Beauty in the Breakdown
Chapter 1
"We need to talk..."
These words played through my mind for the last few days. I've been trying to pick apart every single syllable and try to figure out what really went wrong. I've heard these words multiple times, in multiple situations, I've grown to hate the way they sound. But somehow this time they struck me ten times harder. I flinched at the thought of the warm crisp touch on my arm. Was this actually true? Was all that I worked for in my whole life really not worth anyone's time or troubles anymore? I still can't believe this could ever happen.
I looked at the clock, it read 2:56am. I haven't been able to get any sort of "shut-eye" for a while now. My eyes almost have a sort of glaze over them, and they are blood-shot from the lack of sleep. Every thought in my head is just taunting me. I look outside the complex to distract myself and find myself looking at gray smoke in the distance of the city I once loved, Chicago. I see bright yellow taxis speeding down tunnels in rush to get off for the night and get paid their "hard-earned" cash. Then to my right I spot a train, a Metra train to be exact. I squeeze my eyes shut remembering that chilling call. That call that changed my life forever, telling me I had become an orphan. It was in the newspapers everywhere for days, "ROGER AND LILLIAN WEHRS HIT BY METRA TRAIN ON JULY 6TH", the headlines read. They were my parents, and now they were gone.
The thought of it gave me goosebumps as I clenched my fists. A mix of anger and sadness controlled me now, I felt like a machine, I was programmed. How could this happen?
"Faye..." a quiet gentle voice interrupted my thoughts. My six year old brother, Will, stood at the foot of my mattress. I could tell he had a nightmare, most likely about our parents. The streetlights gave me enough light to see those innocent, puffy, red eyes. His hands were trembling and his whole body was shaking. I pulled him in for a tight squeeze, the way our dad used to. The kind of touchy hug that trickles through your body, minutes on end.
"Shh, I'm here," I said rocking him back and forth still clenching onto him, "I'm not going to leave you."
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