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Shaun
Four months. Four agonizing months since I had seen her in the park. Four agonizing months of starting to dial her number, and then stopping myself.
I am listening to the middle aged woman complain about her life. She doesn't even need a therapist.
I will the clock to move faster. My office is dark, modern, and devoid of warmth. Ironically, it fits me.
Thankfully, the session is over. I tell Amamda that she's made progress, next week, and it's been a pleasure. Notice the lie. I glance down at the desk calender, and look up 2:30.
I don't get a chance to see who is scheduled next, because I hear someone entering the room. Automatically, I look up, and see her.
She is looking at the floor.
Serena
I looked him up. Kayla convinced me to go. I protested, trying to say that Ashleigh needed watching. She said she would wait with Ashleigh. Eventually, I gave in.
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I swung down from the tree branch, laughing apathetically, careless, my arms flaring like a monkeys as I jumped on Bryan. Then he jumped and landed on top of me, and crushed my chest. I started cracking up, my face squished and red.
BAM! Zared’s gun.
That was our signal. We both silenced and stilled. Bryan stood up, hesitantly, and pulled me up. My knees knocked with terror. I shook my head. I knew what tonight was, and I sure as hell wasn’t ready to face it.
Tonight was my stepfather, Zared and my dead mother, Julia’s anniversary. My heart thudded, breaking my sternum and ribs into tiny pieces. "Please… please, don’t make me go in there," I begged him. I held onto his shirt. His moving shirt. He was already mobile. My feet were frozen.
"Bryan!" I shrieked. Then a strong, BAM! made me shudder and jump. "Take me somewhere else! Anywhere else!" I plead.
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Shaun
It feels like a piercing physical wound; to see her leave me again.
I cannot access the part of me that handles realisation. Serena called her Ashleigh. That child in her arms. Is mine.
My forehead is resting on the edge of the hard granite countertop, and I am trying to ignore the card that is currently lying right in front of me. I already know what is printed on it by heart.
Serena Meyer
Gaurdian Ad Litem, New York.
serenashleigh@mweb.com
And then a number scrawled on in her own handwriting.
**************************************************
Her eyes haunt me when I close my own. Everything I see reminds me of her.
Irony; isn't it, when the one thing you absolutely need to survive is within your physical grasp but you cannot have it? Isn't it some kind of 'destiny' rule that means you always land up with the one person right for you and it's all flowers and daisies from then on?
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