Forgetting you by ninja choco (e book reader pdf txt) 📕

When the door was lifted up I scaled back to the side of the new car and opened the door before lifting myself inside. I breathed in the fragrant smell of lavenders from the air fresher hanging of the side and leaned back against the soft interior. Its black contrasted boldly with the outside and when I turned the key everything ignited as one. The music drifted softly towards my ears as it played my father’s favorite track and the blue lights cast an glow around my hands.

“Dad, can you please change the music?” a voice demanded from the back seat as the car urged onwards. The father dared a glance back and laughed at his daughters annoyed expression. “These are the classics baby girl” he said as he revved the engine and listened to it purr. “These are the good stuff…”

I was driving down the road, the car easily cutting through the air like a knife as I made my way to the cemetery. I knew where it was…

“We are gathered here today to say goodbye to a…”

I pressed harder on the gas, letting the car inch a little above the speed limit.

“Let us remember the times we have spent with…”

I flicked the blinker on and took a left turn onto a gravel pathway before making my way towards the church which sat towering majestically on top of a hill. It was old with greying bricks and vines crawling up its sides. Roses bushes dotted the area and a sense of death clung to the air.

“Lest we forget this person who touched so many lives…”

I quickly parked the car and got out, racing to the funeral which was about to begin. My hair blew into my face but I ignored it as I came to stand amongst the cluster of bodies surrounding the body of my father. His face was a pasty white and his hands were draped around his heart holding lilies to his chest. His lips had a purplish hue to them and all I could do was stare at him. This was the first time I saw him, but not the first I’ve seen a dead body… 

The preacher came to stand before us and raised his hands to the heavens above. “We are gathered here today in remembrance of Mike Campbell and to say goodbye to our fellow friend. Let us remember the times we have spent with him and lest we forget the lives he has touched…”

These speeches were all rehearsed. Everything they said was all rehearsed. Like the times someone comes up to you can says there ‘sorry’ when they accidently hit you. They don’t mean it; it’s just polite to say.

“Let us never forget Mike Campbell…”

“Let us always remember Light Campbell…”

“I wish I had a memory of that first violent shove, the shock of cold air, the sting of oxygen into new lungs. Everyone should remember being born. It doesn't seem fair that we only remember dying.” ― Lauren DeStefano

Chapter 8:

The funeral had finished with many signs of condolences for the loss of my father. People had shot me sympathetic looks and whispered cold enquires behind my back.

“What is she going to do?”

“I heard this isn’t the first time”.

“Poor girl”.

I had immediately separated from the bustling group which gravitated around the snacks laid outside the church. It was too stuffy and restricting amongst them. I just decided to walk down the ancient winding paths of the cemetery, the stones jutting out from the ground and the angels looking down upon me with cruel unseeing eyes. I always hated these places…

A lady stood there holding her daughters hand as the preacher said those last words only kept for the dead. Tears were slipping out of both there swollen eyes as their bodies trembled like towers about to collapse. The girls black dress with the red ribbon hung limply around her body as she held onto a photo. The mother glanced across, and something came across her face. Something dark and cruel….

I stopped in front of a grave stone with an angel that stood proudly on a pedestal as its hands arched upwards, palm side up. However its eyes were cast downwards and stared at me intently.

‘Light Campbell’

The name engraved firmly into the stone stood out boldly.

 “Let us always remember Light Campbell…”

A man stood from afar and watched the casket go down. In his hands he held a gold cross and a chain. His eyes were bloodshot as he swung the wine bottle to his lips and took a long gulp of the liquid. He was drowning his sorrows deep within him. But as his eyes swept over the huddled group of people they couldn’t help but land on the girl with the red ribbon. It was all her fault, he thought bitterly. His daughter shall be punished…

I sat in the car, just watching the people walk past as they chattered midst themselves without a care in the world. They looked so happy as if the death of someone was long forgot and just a discarded memory. I revved the engine and rubbed my hands gently across the steering wheel, my foot pressing lightly on the gas. And as I left that place, past those big iron gates, I wished that I would never have to come back.

My phone buzzed in my purse which lay to the side of me. I quickly glanced at it before my hand reached blindly. After clasping the solid thing from within the purses soft interior, I pressed answer and waited for the voice, my eyes focusing firmly on the road.

“Hello is this Winter?” a scratchy voice asked uncertainly. I answered straight back, unsure of myself because I’ve never heard this person before. “Yes this is Winter.” Silence.

“Winter” the voice said, and then its voice filled with pity. “I’m sure your mothers told you. And so I just called to make--”

“Told me what” I butted in lightly, my eyebrows crunching in confusion as I raked my mind for whatever knowledge of the situation.

“Oh” was her only reply and I could just imagine her frowning dispassionately, while twirling the phone cord around her finger. “Winter” she said slowly, “you’re coming to live in America with me…”

The words didn’t transfer in my slow processing brain right away. However when it did I unconsciously slammed the brakes and the car skidded to a halt in front of a driveway. It threw me forward and the seatbelt cut into my ribs and tender skin as the air was punched out of me.

“Your mother probably forgot to tell you” her voice continued through the speaker, not realizing the distress she was causing me. “She’s a busy woman, so you should be proud of her and—”

Cutting her off harshly I stated the question I’ve been wondering for some time now, “who are you?”

The silence met me again, it was like a wall and it was overpowering. “Your aunty…”

The three boys stood there in the wide garden throwing the Frisbee around in the afternoon sun. “BOYS!” a voice yelled and a lady came through the glass sliding door. In her hands were some cool drinks placed on a silver tray. “If you don’t keep hydrated in this heat, you’ll pass out,” she said lightly. The three young children ran to the lady, just coming to realize their thirst. One child was blonde with warm brown eyes while the other two had mousy brown hair and blue eyes. They were the finest of young lads and the best of friends. Then a tiny girl came to stand behind the lady, her pale green eyes glowing as she stared affectionately at her brother. “Winter would you like some?” the ladies voice inquired…

After my chat with the lady who calls herself my aunty, I hung up and let my head lean back against the head rest, my eyes shutting close to block out the world. I wish I could just block out everything bad, everything that’s ever hurt me.

It was a honk that snapped me out of my daze and I stared back at the angry driver behind me through the review mirror. His eyes held annoyance and his face was twisted in a sour look as he shot me an evil glare. Not wanting to have a confrontation I pressed on the gas and urged the car forward, the light glinting from the silver exterior.

I hadn’t realized I was going in circles around the block till I passed the same house twice. I grunted in irritation and decided to stop the car and ask for directions from a man who was racing down the path. He stopped and pointed in the direction of my street, his hands clammy and his face dripping with sweat.

There was so much pain that I could hardly breathe

The tears were falling and damping my bloodied clothes as I screamed.

Glass jabbed into my side and pierced my skin.

Blood dripped from the cuts on my body.

There was sweat and it dripped from his face.

Amber.

Cold.

Lights.

Raising my hand I stared emotionless towards the front, muttering a quick thank you through my chapped lips, before driving in the direction the man had pointed.

True to his advice I reached my house within minutes. I parked the car on the side and replayed what my aunty said in my mind. After she had stated that she was my blood relative she had gone into detail about the process of my departure from Australia. She said that she would post all the needed things like tickets and further instructions and what to pack. It was all planned through and there was no room left for my input. My input wasn’t necessary in this case.

“It’s also easier” she had said, “since you have an American passport to transfer here”.

I opened the car door and stepped out into the evening, the warmth bathing on my face and blanketing me in its embrace. I signed in content as I walked up the concrete driveway and towards the front door. Everything was changing.

“Change happens” the friend said while shrugging her shoulders, “you weren’t seriously thinking things will be the same between us right?” Winter stood there, looking at her stupidly before answering in a small and quit voice, “but I thought we were best friends forever…”The girl laughed obnoxiously and pointed a long finger at her. “Things change no matter what”.

“Things change. And friends leave. Life doesn't stop for anybody.” ― Stephen Chbosky,