Penitence

I’m stripped, I’m bare
I’m left here with nothing
I hold the wheel
don’t know where I’m going
Your face, I see, in every reflection
No time, no space
I’ve lost all direction

Leona Lewis – Alive

There weren't many people outside as I stepped out of the bar to smoke. It was a cold evening, but I didn't pull my jacket tighter. Instead, I pulled the relatively new pack of Marlboro from my pocket. I'd only recently started smoking, and I wasn't completely sure why I'd picked up the habit. Maybe it was the sense of release it provided? Or the relaxation? Whatever it was, it seemed to help.

I knew my parents wouldn't be happy; they'd drummed it into me as a child that smoking was bad for me, but I hadn't seen them in over a month, and I wasn't about to tell them any time soon.

After opening the packet, I pulled out a cigarette and placed it between my lips, lighting it up in the next instant. I inhaled deeply, as I did every time, feeling the familiar burn in my throat that came with being a new smoker. The only problem was that I was still unaccustomed to the smoke, which meant I choked as I exhaled. I removed the cigarette and held it between my fingers, letting it burn out that way.

I closed my eyes and leant my head back against the wall. I was tired, physically and emotionally, but I knew that if I went home, sleep would continue to evade me. Which was why, at just after ten thirty at night, I was at a bar – alone – and planning on stretching the night out as long as possible.

The cigarette burnt out after I’d only taken two hits. I didn’t care, though, as I dropped it to the floor and ran my foot over the end. I took a deep breath and trailed my fingers through my messy, blond hair. I hadn’t washed it in a couple of days, which meant the stray curls were more disarrayed than normal. I looked a mess, I knew that, and paired with the dark circles under my eyes, I probably looked quite menacing. No wonder people are giving me a wide berth, I thought bitterly.

A short while later, I turned around and made my way into the bar. I didn't look around at the people inside, instead, heading straight for the bar to order another drink.

The bartender had a knowing look on his face, as if he knew about the kind of shit I was going through. I disregarded it with a grit of my teeth as I asked for another two fingers of bourbon. I preferred my drink neat, and tonight was no different.

A glass was placed in front of me, and I swilled the liquid around the glass before taking a sip. It was much like smoking, in that it left a slight burning feeling as I swallowed. However, this was a burn I much preferred, and would experience many more times before the night was out.

Not long after my drink was served, the seat next to me suddenly became occupied. I didn't look up, not caring to see who it was.

“Jasper.”

I clenched my jaw, recognising the voice instantly.

“Why are you here, Edward?” I said roughly. I didn't turn in his direction as I spoke. I didn’t want to even look at him right now.

“We've tried calling and going to the house, but you never answer,” he replied, keeping his voice even. “This was the one place I knew I'd find you.”

Not granting his response with anything coherent, I merely grunted, hoping he would leave. But I knew he wouldn't, not until he’d said what he’d come to say, at least. Given the situation, I was more than certain it was going to be something I didn’t want to hear right now.

“Are you just going to keep doing this to yourself? Or are you going to face up to the responsibilities you have?” His voice was stern now, but still more controlled than mine was. I glanced at him, my eyes telling him more than words ever could.

“She’s not my responsibility.” It was a lie, but I tried not to show it in my expression; the last thing I wanted was for him to call my bluff. As, true to form, he was going into the exact topic I wanted to avoid.

“She’s your daughter, of course she’s your responsibility!” he snapped, his anger and disgust at my words colouring his tone. I couldn’t say I blamed him. In his position, my reaction would have been the same. I would have called him out on it, demanded why he refused to admit his daughter needed him as much as he needed her.

But I wasn’t; I wasn’t that person. I was here, wishing he would leave me the fuck alone.

When I didn’t respond, he continued. “She has a name, Jasper.”

“Stop it.”

“Her name is Amelia.”

The muscles in my jaw tightened. “Stop it.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t think about her.” There was something in the way he spoke that told me he knew he was pressing all the right buttons. Fucking Edward.

I shook my head, trying not to think about the ten seconds I’d held her in my arms, and certainly trying not to think about what happened afterwards.

“That’s bullshit, and you know it!” he exclaimed, slamming his hand down on the counter. “You miss her, Jasper, and you need her.”

“I said stop it!” I growled, my fingers curling into tight balls. “You’re wrong. I don’t even know her. I don’t know what helps her sleep every night, or the way she likes to be held. I don’t know what kind of milk she drinks, or the routine she has to follow. I don’t know her at all!”

“You can learn,” he said simply. In any other situation, I could have marvelled at how he regained composure in a matter of seconds. However, I couldn’t. I didn’t give a fuck how he’d done it. It was just another thing he was better at.

I let out a quick laugh, it was cold, humourless. “You just don’t get it, do you? I don’t want her without Alice.” I bashed my fist against the counter. The bartender looked in our direction, worried that there would be a fight, but we ignored him. “I miss her so fuckin’ much, Edward. It’s Alice that I need.”

He exhaled loudly, and then fixed his gaze on me once again. “She was my baby sister, Jasper. Do you think I don’t miss her every second of the day? Hell, we all miss her, but we hold it together for Amelia. She’s what’s left of Alice now; she’s what you need to cling onto. Pull yourself together, Jas, for her sake and your own.”

His words hit me like an iron fist against my chest. He was right, but, then again, Edward was always right. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block everything out around me.

“You’ll regret it, you know,” he continued, his approach much calmer than before, though the gravity of his words hung in every syllable. “When she’s older,” he went on with quiet determination. “You’ll regret missing this time, and you won’t get it back, Jasper, you’ll never be able to undo this.”

My eyes welled up with tears, so I kept them closed, not wanting to let the emotions win. I couldn’t cry, not in front of Edward.

“Just think about what I said,” he murmured. I heard him stand up, and then a second later, I sensed that he put something down in front of me. I said nothing as he rested his hand on my arm for a second before pulling away and leaving.

When I finally opened my eyes, my gaze immediately landed on the small photograph sitting in front of me. The tears suddenly spilt over and ran down my cheeks; I didn’t try to hold them back or wipe them away.

She looked different from the baby girl I’d seen at the hospital. But she was undoubtedly my daughter; I would have picked her out of thousands. In that moment, I realised what Edward had said was wrong. It wouldn’t take me years to regret not being there for the first months of her life.

I was already feeling it now.

In the picture, she was lying on a bed wearing an all-in-one white baby suit. She was fast asleep, with her arms above her head. She looked tiny, and if I held her, I knew she’d be a light as a feather.

As soon as I closed my eyes, I pictured her warm and tiny in my arms. Immediately, I was thrown into the memory of the day she was born.

♦♦♦

My hand was now bandaged up and ready to use again. It throbbed, but I was eager to get to my wife, so I barely noticed it. Alice had dropped a glass of water when the contractions started. I hadn’t realised and had run right into it, slipping over, and cutting my hand on the broken glass. Honestly, it was a miracle I didn’t cut my feet up, too.

But of all the days to trip up and injure myself, it had to be the one when Alice was going into labour. I knew later, when things had calmed down, she would tease me for being so unobservant. I was sure it would remind her of when we were younger, and the ridiculously thick glasses I used to wear.

A smile was on my face as I spotted one of the nurses that had dealt with Alice when we came in. When I told her I was looking for Alice, she lead me down the corridor, telling me that my wife had gone into labour a short while ago. I was disappointed that I hadn’t been there, and I hoped I wasn’t too late. I didn’t want Alice to go through that without me by her side.

I was expecting her to take me straight to a delivery room, but she was stopped by another nurse, who gave me a long, confusing look before leading us to a side room. I wanted to protest, to demand where the hell we were going.

However, when I entered, my eyes landed on the nurse sitting in one of the chairs, and in her arms, was a tiny bundle.

My baby, my Amelia.

The nurse holding Amelia stood up and came towards me. I knew this was going to be the first time I held my daughter in my arms, and the excitement I felt was hard to contain. I only wished that Alice was in the room, too, to witness it happening.

She told me how to position myself, and then slowly, I took Amelia into my arms. The instant joy and relief nearly bowled me over, and happy tears sprung in my eyes. After months of seeing her on the ultrasound, she was finally here.

The door opened and the two nurses from before walked in. I looked at them feeling puzzled. I felt even more bewildered when I noticed their morose expressions. But, I pushed it aside. This was the happiest day of my life; whatever was bothering them wasn’t going to get to me.

“Where’s Alice?” I asked as I turned my attention back to Amelia. Her eyes were closed, and both thumbs were tucked into her hand just below her chin. I couldn’t wait till Alice came back so that we could sit together as the three of us once again. I could only assume that she was changing, if not already on her way back.

It was only when I looked up again, that I realised they hadn’t answered.

It took only one look at their faces for the wind to be knocked out of me, like a tonne of bricks landing against my chest. Holding Amelia in my arms was the exact moment all the pieces of my life fitted together, yet everything around me was falling apart.

“I’m sorry, Mr Whitlock,” the nurse began. It was the same nurse who had brought me here. “There were complications during the birth, and your wife suffered a large internal bleed. The doctors tried all that they could...”

As soon as her words registered, everything around me faded. All I could hear was the pounding of blood in my ears, and when I gasped out, “Take the baby,” it sounded as if I was underwater, choking.

If their expressions were sympathetic, I didn’t see them. If they said anything more, I didn’t hear it. All I could focus on was Alice; all I could think about was finding her. They didn’t expect me to walk out without saying a word, but none of them stopped me. I wouldn’t have let them.

Alice. Gone. No.

The corridors were like a maze, and I blindly went from one department to another, not knowing where I was going, but somehow knowing I was getting closer.

Alice.

Doctors, nurses, and even patients walked by, some of them paid attention to me, some didn’t. But none of them spoke to me...no one tried to stop me. Nobody asked if I was okay.

Alice.

The corridor I found myself in was quiet, and above the door it said maternity. How I’d found it, I wasn’t sure. I was certain that the room where our child lay was only a short walk from here, but the happiness I’d experienced felt like a lifetime ago now.

“Alice.” But this time it was verbal, and the female nurse I had directed it at seemed to realise who I was referring to straight away.

“Are you Mr Whitlock?”

I didn’t remember nodding, but then again, I didn’t remember much of what happened next. She led me into a room just down the corridor; I didn’t look around to see if there were others in the room, for all I saw was Alice laying on the bed in front of me.

“I’ll give you some time alone,” the nurse said. I didn’t answer; I didn’t look at her. Alone. She said she would give me some time alone.

Alone. Alice. Gone. No.

I took a step towards Alice, my eyes travelling over her tiny body. Her skin looked paler than it usually did, like a porcelain doll. Except the porcelain doll was incomplete, and it took me a moment to realise her baby bump was gone.

I’d seen it develop for the last six months, and now it was gone, as if none of it had even happened.

She’s just sleeping, I thought to myself as I took her hand in mine; it was cold and her fingers didn’t curl around mine like they usually did. But she was just sleeping.

“Wake up, Alice. I’m here now, I found you, just like I promised you I would,” I whispered, the edge of panic, despair and fear filling my voice. “Our daughter is waitin’ for us. She’s beautiful, just like you, and such a tiny little thing. You’ll fall in love with her straight away.”

The only sound in the room was my laboured breaths, and as the silence stretched on, I realised I was crying.

“Come on, please open your eyes,” I pleaded, the lump in my throat nearly suffocating me. “Show me that you’re just sleepin’.”

With a shaking hand, I reached out and ran my fingers along her cheek, brushing hair away from her face. My touch was feather light, yet I could still feel the cool temperature of her skin.

As I retracted my hand, I bent forward and kissed her gently on the forehead. She was just sleeping, but she was never going to wake up.

♦♦♦

Pulling myself from the memory, I looked back at the picture, knowing there was only one thing I could do. I left some money on the counter and made my way towards the exit. I couldn’t go there now, it was coming up to midnight, and even though I knew Esme would let me in, I doubted that she would let me in to see her.

As I stepped outside, I pulled the cigarette packet from my pocket and threw them into the trash without a second thought. The walk home seemed longer than it usually did, and I couldn’t understand why.

The Polaroid in my pocket felt like a heavy weight, dragging me down. So I pulled it out, taking to staring at it as I walked the last stretch of my journey.

When I finally reached the house, I pulled the keys from my pocket and sluggishly opened the door, not looking forward to walking in alone. It was the same each time I came home, but tonight I was damn near sober.

I hated it.

I dropped the keys on the table once the door was closed behind me. It made a loud noise as they hit the hard wood, making me wince. Staring at them for a moment, I began to hate how that one, loud noise had affected me. Then again, every sound affected me, now. The whirring the fridge emitted, the passing of water in the pipes, I heard every one of them and loathed them all in some distinct manner.

They were minute, insignificant. But, most of all, they were the sounds that used to be masked by Alice’s mere presence. Even when it was completely silent around me, that, too, was a noise now, and it screamed at me every time I went to sleep, and every time I opened my eyes the next morning.

The silence was the worst of them all, and I only really seemed to notice it now that she was gone.

Walking forward, I placed the picture on the table beside the couch, patting it delicately before walking towards the stairs. I cursed under my breath when the steps creaked as I moved up them.

When I entered the bedroom, my gaze lingered on the unkempt bed, the duvet cover lying in the exact same position I’d left it the night Alice went into labour. On the way to the bathroom, my hand skimmed the across her side of the bed, barely touching it.

I retracted my hand seconds later; even that one touch was enough to burn me. However, as I moved away, it wasn’t a physical pain that latched onto me. The emotional pain was paralyzing, slowly crippling me. The loss of her was everywhere, in everything around me, and there was no escaping it.

Her absence was like a dark cloud hanging over me, present in my every action.

The door shut a little too abruptly when I walked into the bathroom. I jolted, cursing myself for such a reaction, before flipping the switch in the shower, letting the sound of the water drown out the loudness of my wretched thoughts.

Leaving my clothes in a dark pool at my feet, I stepped under the torrent of hot water, letting it cascade down my body and disappear down the drain. After a while, I found myself staring downwards, watching the water disappear.

There was nothing I could do to make it stay; nothing I could do to stop it from slipping away. Just as there was nothing I could do to stop Alice being torn from my life, and the misery and despair that had left me with. Was there anything I could have done to stop her from being taken away from me? If I had been awake, and gotten her to the hospital quicker, would she have been here with me now? That thought alone tormented me day in and day out, making the throbbing pain in my chest feel as if it were tearing my heart out.

Before I could comprehend what was happening, a raging sob escaped my lips, and I crashed to the floor, my legs no longer being able to hold me up. Clenching my hands into tight balls, I fell onto my side, tucking my legs into my chest, as if I was in the-

Fuck…I couldn’t even think of the word anymore. It reminded me of…it reminded me of Alice and those few happy months when we dreamed of being…

Uncurling one hand, I used it to painfully grip my hair as I cried out, screaming into the silent, waiting house outside of this room. Why her? I pleaded desperately. What did she ever do to deserve that? But, like always, no one responded to my pleas, because that’s just how it was.

With a strangled cry, I jerked my arm out, slamming it into the wall. I repeated the action, relishing in the pain as I clenched my hand even tighter. It was only when I pulled it back that I realised the extent of the damage.

The side that had taken the impact was inflamed and throbbing. But that wasn’t what caught my attention. It was the drops of blood that seeped out from beneath my fingertips.

I tentatively uncurled my fingers, my eyes zeroing in on the ugly scar that stretched across my palm. I’d broken the skin once again, and as I stared at it, I knew it was yet another scar that had to heal.

I couldn’t see the other scars, they were deep within me, and right now, the mere thought of them ever healing seemed impossible.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm myself down. The ache in my heart was ever present, but I attempted to swallow back the pain that tried to force its way up my throat like bile. Inhaling through my nose, instead, I pulled my trembling body off the floor and shut off the water I’d long forgotten.

I dried myself quickly before going to the cabinet in search of a first aid kit. My chest constricted as I looked passed Alice’s things and took out the kit. Her products were everywhere, in every direction I looked, and I couldn’t bring myself to touch a single one of them.

Shutting the cabinet again, hiding her things from view, I opened the box and retrieved the gauze and band aids. I patched myself up as fast as I could, not wanting to look at the scar longer than necessary. I couldn’t even glance at my hands now without being reminded of how I got the injury in the first place.

Once I was finished, I left the box on the side by the sink, and went out into the bedroom. I kept moving, not wanting to linger. There was nothing left for me in that room, it meant nothing now that I didn’t have her to share it with.

As soon as I was free of the bedroom, I went for my small pile of clothing and pulled on a pair of sweat pants and a hooded sweater. After discarding the towel in the washing basket, I trudged downstairs, my stomach rumbling as I did so. The emptiness in my stomach was a different kind of ache to the emptiness in my chest.

I hadn’t eaten a proper meal in over a month, and in its place I used alcohol and cigarettes to eradicate my hunger. But now I had neither, and in this big house, I didn’t know what to do with myself.

We’d bought this place in the hope that we’d be able to build a family here, and now I wished we hadn’t. Even the meaning behind the house itself linked back to her and the little girl she’d brought into this world.

As my mind drifted back to Amelia, a tear slipped from my eyes. She would be asleep now, dreaming of colours and shapes, as I was sure babies did at that age. Did she know? Her mother…her father…she knew neither of us. In that sense of the word, she was an orphan.

Regret and guilt flared as I wandered into the main room, Edward’s words ringing in my ears. He was right, yet again. I needed to step up to my responsibilities as a father once and for all.

Starting tomorrow.

The couch stood in the centre of the room, an ominous thing that mocked me whenever night time approached. Sleep constantly evaded me; the only way I found a release from that was drinking myself into a stupor, or going for long walks in the middle of the night, hoping to tire myself out enough that it was impossible to keep my eyes open.

I usually chose the former. However, tonight, I had neither, just like earlier. All I could do was close my eyes and allow the silence to lay itself down next to me. I did that, fruitlessly willing sleep to take me away.

After the clock chimed in a new hour, I rolled over and opened my eyes. Seeing the picture on the table, I picked it up and stared at it.

♦♦♦

I stood outside the apartment door for maybe an hour; I couldn’t be certain, I wasn’t keeping track of the time.

After Alice and I married, Esme had no need to live in the big house on her own. I only fully understood her reasons for moving now that I’d experienced something similar to what she had.

The apartment she moved into was small; it was enough for her…enough for a newborn baby. Esme was the only other person who was able to look after Amelia. My parents were too old to look after a newborn baby all day, and Edward and his wife, Bella, had a two year old son who took up most of their time.

I hadn’t seen my own sister, Rosalie, for nearly three years. Once leaving high school, she and Emmett had run away together, leaving their family and friends behind. She’d come back for a while, bringing him with her. They stayed for maybe two months before leaving again after having a big argument with my parents. We hadn’t heard from her since then.

Was she married now? Did she have children of her own? Who was to know? I rarely attempted to even contact my estranged sister anymore, let alone ask what she was doing with herself.

But she wasn’t who I wanted to think about today. She hadn’t been the number one girl in my life since she was thirteen years old. She wasn’t my priority anymore…Amelia was, and always would be from now on.

It was only when I heard the faint ping of the elevator down the corridor, that I finally made a move. I didn’t want anyone to find me standing outside the door, regardless of the fact they probably wouldn’t recognise me anymore.

I knocked once, feeling a whole bundle of nerves that were completely different to the ones I felt the first time I came to take Alice on a date. The fact it was a totally different door didn’t matter in that moment. It still made me remember; it still gave me the urge to run and hide away.

However, the door swung open, and the moment I saw Esme, I knew I couldn’t run anymore. She looked completely drawn. Maybe not as tired as I felt, but she wasn’t far off. Though, when she saw me, she somehow managed to give me a weary smile, one I didn’t even try to return.

She didn’t look as surprised to see me as I thought she would be. I could only assume Edward had called to let her know he’d seen me. Somehow, he must have known I’d visit her. In any other situation, I might have laughed. It was so like him.

When I walked in, I couldn’t help but scan the area. It looked completely different to what I remembered. The last time I’d been here…I hadn’t been alone. Now there were packs of diapers, piles of tiny clothes, formula bottles, and numerous other things that shouldn’t have even been here.

Furthermore, there was a smell that hung in the air, a clean, sweet scent that reminded me of fresh cotton. My heart tightened, as if someone was squeezing it. Everything about this room made me reminisce about what I wanted, what we’d both wanted, and as I looked towards the only closed door in the flat, I wondered if my baby girl was in there waiting for me.

She must have been…but I couldn’t bring myself to go in there yet.

Esme brushed passed me and picked up the basket of washing that was sitting on the couch. She must have been hanging it up around the house when I knocked. I watched her for a long while, inspecting the way she moved around the small apartment.

Neither of us said a word, but, then again, what was there to say? It was futile asking how the other was doing. Neither of us wanted to hear how hard it was to cope, or how everywhere we looked, there was a reminder of what was forever lost to us.

It was only when she replaced the empty basket that she appraised me silently. “You can sit down, you know?” she finally said in a gentle voice, breaking the silence. I glanced at the couch as if it was a fucking alien. I’d been standing in the same damn position since walking in, and I hadn’t even realised it.

I sat down rather robotically, placing my hands in my lap. When I looked up, I noticed her staring at them, and I remembered, belatedly, that the bandage was back again. The last time I’d seen her in person my hand was in a simple, neat bandage the nurse had put on. But now, it was wrapped up in my rushed, poor attempt.

“Do you want me to take a look at that for you?” she asked, signalling to my hand. “I could put a fresh one on there, if you like.”

“Sure,” I muttered, not wanting to look at it. Esme was a nurse, and I knew she’d do a far better job that I ever would. At my affirmation, she disappeared into the bathroom before coming back with her own first aid kit.

She sat down beside me, taking my hand in hers. I didn’t speak as she worked over it, silently wondering if she could tell what I’d done to it. There was a slight bruise now, too, from where I’d struck the wall. However, if she did notice, she didn’t comment on it, taking to sitting with me in silence, instead.

In a way, being in her presence was kind of soothing. Even though she was hurting herself, she still had that peaceful, tranquil aura around her, and it was a relief to feel something different than the darkness that usually surrounded me.

I spoke too soon.

The feeling was shattered the moment I heard a shrill cry coming from the other room. I jumped a fucking mile, watching the door with wide eyes. Before I knew what I was doing, my hands had scrunched into tight balls, my nails digging into the fresh dressing across my palm.

I’d never heard her crying before, and in all honestly, it scared the shit out of me. I wasn’t ready for this, not anymore. Not without Alice. I couldn’t do this alone. I needed her. But, somehow, Esme’s voice broke through the frenzied haze in my mind.

“Go to her, Jasper…”

My gaze flickered to her, and I was certain she could see the piercing fear running through my eyes. She stood up, resting her hand on my arm as she came to stand in front of me.

“You can do this.” Her voice was quiet, and kind, and exactly what I needed. “The hardest part was coming here…go to your daughter, Jasper, she needs you.”

I took a deep, calming breath, my hands quivering all of a sudden. I nodded because she was right. Amelia needed me.

Amelia.

Pulling away from Esme, I slowly made my way towards the closed door, Amelia’s cries drawing me in.

Alice, help me.

I didn’t receive an answer, but as I opened the door, the crying stopped. A Moses basket sat upon a stand beside Esme’s bed. It was trembling slightly, as if she was wriggling around within it. Each step I took towards her felt lighter than the last, until finally I reached her.

Time seemed to slow down and speed up the moment I laid eyes on her. She looked different from the picture Edward had given me, and in my mind, it felt as if I’d missed even more.

I sat down on the bed and took her into my arms, just how I’d been taught all those months ago at the classes. She was so tiny, and so fragile. Yet, at the same time, she was so strong, grounding me, binding us together.

“Hi,” I whispered as she opened her eyes. A silent gasp passed my lips as I saw something the pictures couldn’t have shown me. Her eyes were grey, just like Alice’s were, and as she gazed up at me curiously, my vision blurred with tears.

I shifted her into one arm then used my free hand to brush along her cheek. Her skin was incredibly soft, and I made sure my touch was gentle. She pressed her lips together as I did so, reaching out for my finger with her tiny hands.

She grasped my forefinger, bringing it to her mouth. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I watched her. She was so perfect, just as I’d pictured her – more than that, in fact. Though, there was one tangible different.

Her hair was blonde.

The moment we found out it was a girl, I’d been so sure she would inherit Alice’s hair colour. Amelia didn’t have very much, mind, but it was most certainly the same shade as mine. There was no denying that.

“I’m sorry, pretty girl,” I whispered, wiping my face against my sleeve so that my tears didn’t fall onto her. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you. But…I am now, and I’ll never abandon you again, not like this.”

I couldn’t promise her that I’d never leave because nobody knew what was around the corner. Life had proved that to me. But I was here, this was now, and I’d do everything in my power to never desert her again like I had in the past month.

I would need help, from Esme, from my parents, even Edward and Bella. But I would do this for Amelia, for myself, and for Alice because, no matter what, as long as we were here, together, Alice would always be a part of us.

No matter how painful it was to move on…she’d still be in our hearts.

Some say grief was stealthy, that it came in disguises. That it could creep upon you and do more damage than any physical wound could. I would say I mostly agreed with that, though, at times, there was no masquerade for it to hide behind.

It was unmistakable.

However, there was one thing that rivalled it, one thing that could be stealthy, could come in disguises and creep up on you. In its own way, that one thing was stronger than grief. That one thing was hope; Amelia was my hope.

Amelia would be the light that guided me home.