The Other Side of Life

Chapter Three

The Other Side of Life: Chapter Three~

"Finished?"

Willow's eyes left the half-full plate and met those of her uncles as he watched her curiously. She nodded her head slowly, reluctantly, and he gave her a warm smile in return, almost as if telling her with the expressions on his face, that it was okay.

Willow hadn't had a big appetite lately. After the accident, she barely ate. She had this constant sick feeling in the pit of her stomach and adding food to it made it worse. She didn't enjoy feeling like she could throw up any minute, so she lessened the odds by only eating when she felt like she would pass out from lack of nutrition. It was a big change for Willow, she had always considered herself to be a 'foodie', or at least that's what her friends had called her, but now she was eating only when and what was necessary to stay alive.

"Right, well, lets go then. There's still a lot more places left to see," her uncle beamed as he stood up from his uncomfortable chair, urging Willow to do the same. Old Willow probably would have laughed at his eagerness and abided to his orders with just as much enthusiasm. But Willow of present time couldn't even muster a smile. She wanted to tell him that she didn't care about the tour anymore. She wanted to tell him that this wasn't making her feel better like she had hoped and that she just wanted to return back to her uncles house.

But she didn't. She didn't utter a word. Because really, she didn't want to go back to her new-home, either. She was dreading the silence, the loneliness, the memories that came with both, and the inevitable heartache.

So instead, she grabbed the pair of sunglasses she had taken off when she was re-doing her ponytail and pushed them on top of her head. Ready to go.

"I was thinking I could show you the town square and then take you the bookstore so you can pick out some books, if you'd like. I remember your mum telling me you loved to read and when I saw you last Christmas you had your nose stuck in a book for most of the night," he chuckled airily at the memory, probably trying to initiate some sort of smile from his niece.

Though Willow just nodded her head, almost like she hadn't heard half of what Max was talking about. But, she had, and she remembered the exact book he was referring to, though it was a few Christmas' ago now. After that one, her mother banned her from taking books with her to social outings because it seemed to distance Willow from everyone else.

It was a good book, though— Willow had enjoyed it. At least until she got to the end and the main character had died. Normally Willow liked to read the ending of the book first to make sure there were no sad endings, but the book looked lighthearted and promising enough, so she didn't bother to check; she felt the happy ending was a given. But as it turned out, it wasn't, and it left her disappointed for days. She had to tell herself it was just a book. It was just a story made up by someone with a wild imagination and that it didn't happen.

But it turned out, it does happen. Not only in books, but in real life. People died. Good people died. People with kind hearts and bright smiles and promising futures. They all died. Some sooner than others; some more painfully, some peacefully; some fast, some slow; some old, some young.

Death didn't care who it took— whose future it destroyed or whose life it ruined. Death was unforgiving, relentless. It took who it wanted, when it wanted, how it wanted; leaving a path of destruction in its wake. But death didn't care— death never cared. Because death didn't deal with the consequences. The people who it left behind did.

The family and the friends of the taken. The ones who felt the pain even years later; the ones who mourned every day, even when they didn't realise it; the ones whose smile became dimmer and whose eyes seemed less bright.