FicWad

~MADELINE'S P.O.V

So, there is only so much that can go wrong in one day. There's an unwritten law, there has to be, that says so much bad luck cannot befall someone undeserving. And I'm not talking about myself, even though Dad missing could've just as easily not happened...anyway, Brendon, sweet Brendon who has never asked for anything (including what I'm sure was an accidental death) just...was not a happy camper today. And it all started with me coming home from my new waitressing job, bruises on my arms forming and a cut on my lower arm that was curved strangely and bleeding still, despite my best efforts to make it stop. Since it was the twilight hour, he was able to grab me with ice cold hands and take me upstairs to the bathroom, gently tending to my cut and wrapping it. Funny, I couldn't even tell him exactly what had happened. A couple was celebrating their small wedding in the restaurant I was working in and the bride, who was incredibly drunk had decided I looked like her ex best friend or something...the cut I had actually gotten from a broken wine bottle. Nice, right? I had retold the story to Brendon in a comical manner but he wasn't buying. It was really sweet...and I was unused to it, but he got so protective and I'm sure when he was alive no girl could resist that pout, either.

"It's not fine, Mads, you really could've gotten hurt, you should've fought back to save yourself from getting hurt." I rolled my eyes but froze as his cold breath traveled over my face and frozen fingertips traced my jaw. "I don't want you joining me in this world of between. It isn't fair. And who cares if you forgot my birthday cake. It's not like I was going to be able to eat it." Yeah, that's another thing that happened. I forgot his birthday cake on the train ride home. Lovely. Then after a freezing kiss on my forehead, Brendon proceeded to inform me of my father's absence. No note, but a couple twenties and a bunch of ones and fives in a envelope on the kitchen table. Now, I'm no idiot, I don't need a note to tell me that my father left because he can't mourn in a healthy manner and is uncomfortable with my 'gift', but it would've been nice to know that he at least felt guilty enough to leave a note.

I didn't call the police like I should have, if I was a good loving daughter, and I had to to handle a drunken screeching phone call from The Scene Queen later that evening as well. Then I got to canceling my phone bill, seeing as I would just need money to buy food and things now. Brendon kept expecting me to cry, but that's the worst thing to do on someone's birthday. We talked until dawn was approaching and I finally was tired enough to sleep. No, that was a lie. I was tired...but if Brendon was talking, I wanted to hear his words. I wish I could do something for him, and soon. He was starting to really become attached to the house. That was always a bad thing for spirits. Less chance of moving on, if they can't let go. What was I going to do?



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Short like always, but the next chapter is the big finale, which will be very long, and then I'm writing another story, a sequel of sorts.