Regret The Rejection |✔️

30| Foes

***
The saddest thing about
betrayal is,
it never comes from your enemies

***

K I A R A

I looked out of my bedroom window, watching Nora play with the other children. Her face glowed with happiness while she chased and ran around the park with her friends.

I had left the hospital late this morning, followed by a very fussy Ashton at my side. He insisted on the silliest things, and had nearly driven Marcus and me up the wall.

Mercifully, he had tons of work in the office and had left me to myself a while ago.

Freedom!

A smile made its way to my face and I watched the children enjoy themselves.

So carefree. So innocent and childlike.

Their faces glowed with happiness.
The same happiness I had long forgotten.

They reminded me of my days at Dark Wolf. Both sweet and bitter memories, that would forever be etched to my heart.

A SUMMER EVENING, THREE YEARS AGO

"Pass me the ball, Carson!" Evan hollered as he waved his arms frantically, trying to get his attention.

"Catch it! Catch it!!" Carson yelled as he threw Evan the ball,who in turn threw it in James' direction.

Everyone was present, except for two people — Aden and me.

Aden still hadn't come to terms with Arie's kidnap. He missed her like hell and though we didn't talk about her much, his eyes said it all.
He was moody, sour and rarely came out to play with the other boys now.

I, on the other hand, didn't want to go. Times had changed, ranks had changed and so had their attitude. I was already on the borderline of a social pariah.

I sighed as I tried to ignore the noise the boys were making and turned my focus on to my sketchbook again.

I was sitting next to Dad's grave, like always. This had been my place of comfort, ever since he died. When I sat here, I could literally feel his presence next to me. It was weird, yet comforting. Sitting next to him, even though he wasn't physically present next to me, made me feel safe and secure.

Dad was buried in the place where he always wished to be. I remember him coming with Mom every weekend and sit here, watching us kids play. He would even join us occasionally and cheer us on when we were about to give up.

"Go, Kiara, go!!" My father would urge me as I raced along the perimeter with Aden and the other boys, "Show them what you're made of!"

And that would make me run with renewed energy.

I used to come first occasionally and I would run into his open arms squealing with delight, while he would pat my back and tell me how proud he was of me.

"That's my girl!" He would say and I would flush with pride.

Oh, I would give my hand and limb to get those days back now, but fate seemed to derive sadistic pleasure in my grief.

Visiting his grave everyday had become my habit. Every evening my feet dragged me towards the very spot, with the sketchbook clutched in my hand, where I knew I could feel him again. Dad's surreal presence was like a drug, an escape from bitter reality.