These Bruises

"Que sera, you'll never guess who I saw."
I was loved. I was hurt. That was repeated when I left you. But there are two other people who I love. As a single mom with two little kids in California, my life got better. It was six years. Six years since I last saw you. Six years since those little talks. Now you can see that these bruises that I've been hiding for those six long years mean. (Second book in Little Talks duology)


47. epilogue-everybody loses, we all got bruises

~Louisa POV~

"Ladies and gentleman we are beginning our descent into JFK Airport. Please fasten your seatbelt and hold on. And thanks for flying with us today." The lady on the announcement announces. I set down my soda and buckle up. A few minutes later, I feel the plane jump a few times until we glide smoothly into a stop. The passengers and myself get up, I grab my carry on and exit the plane. I walk down the terminal until I exit the gate. Then I go to the luggage pickup and wait for my luggage.

That was when I felt a pair of arms wrap around me. "Hey asshole." I hear the voice say.

I smile and turn around. "Hey shitface." I say hugging my little brother Tristan.

Despite our two year age difference, we have learned to appreciate each other. We also learned that we enjoy calling each other asshole and shitface. 

Tristan and I are also different in personality and our life. 

He looked a lot like dad. Brown hair, brown eyes. He can be cunning and cocky at times, but he got that from my uncle. Being the starting tight end for the New England Patriots, he has that athletic ability in his looks. He also has a girlfriend now. Her name is Alice. I, on the other hand, am the total opposite of Tristan. Although in the past I did do some sports, I dedicated my time to music. I also have the resemblance of my mom. Unlike Tristan, my own family has already begun. I am married to my husband, James, and have a two year old daughter Eadlyn. 

"No James or little Eady?" Tristan asks as we walk out of the airport. 

"No." I say walking beside him, "but someone else came."

"Who?" He asks as we walk to the car. I look down at my stomach, and so does he. He automatically knows. "Another little Henderson?!" His eyes beam up. My last name is Henderson now, not Lunt. 

"Yes. Only a week along." I say with a smile getting into the car and buckling up. 

"Well you'll have to tell everybody that. Including mom and Zayn." Tristan exclaims as we pull out of the airport to visit mom and Zayn. Mom and Zayn are currently on the corner of Springfield and Jaycox, and today is a special day so I decided it was time to pay a visit to them. 

I talked to Tristan about some of the students I teach because I'm a high school history teacher and my casual everyday life until we reach the corner of Jaycox and Springfield. I take a deep breath. "You ready, Lou?" Tristan asks. 

"I am." I reply getting out of the car. 

We walk into the area and everyone is gathered up. By everyone, we mean everyone. Grandma and grandpa Carter, Uncle Zach, Aunt Katie, cousins Ella and Jacob, cousin Elizabeth, her husband Calum, their children Clary and Leah (from a previous marriage of Liz), Harry, Rebecca, Darcy and her brother Tommy, Liam, Sophia, their kids Brad and Jayde, Niall, Rachel, Carly, Brian, Louis, Eleanor T., Kevin, Kelly, Sereen, her husband Chad, Emily, Marvin, Jason, Kaitlyn, Nicole and her husband Theo, Eleanor R. and her husband Francis, Nicole and her husband Carswell, and Camille and her husband Taylor. Tristan and I were the last to arrive.

"Hey they're here." I hear Clary say as she sees us. We greet everyone and then we walk down the walkway.

we reach the area where mom and Zayn are and we turn left and begin to search for them. It's been a while since I've seen them, so I don't remember where they are.

"Found them." Grandma Carter says and we all walk over to her and look down.

In Loving Memory

Zayn Jawaad Malik

January 12, 1993-March 11, 2035

A great brother, son, father, and friend

Britta Ann Malik (nee Carter)

May 23, 1995-June 3, 2035

A loving sister, daughter, friend, and mother

Losing mom and Zayn have been the toughest thing in my life. Zayn died in a car crash on the highway. Mom died from suicide. I was still in college when this all happened, and Tristan was in his first year. Everything was tragic. I couldn't contain myself for a long time. 

Everyone sets either a flower or a gift on the grave, pay their respects, and leave.Tristan and I volunteered to go last, so once it was our turn, we step up. 

"Happy birthday, mom." Tristan whispers setting a flower by the others. He wipes away a tear and wraps an arm around me. I rest my head on his shoulder and look at the tombstone. After a while, he says, "I'm going to let you have a moment." And he walks back to the others.

I kneel down on the grass and look down at the ground. "Hey mom. Happy birthday. you would've been 50 today. I still miss you and Zayn everyday." I sniffle. "I'm pregnant again, guys. I already have a name for it if it's a girl. Ann. I want it to have mom's middle name as a first name. Boy, James and I don't know yet. I love you both. Your story is something I think of everyday. I still remember the day before high school graduation mom told me that story. I couldn't have asked for a better mom and stepdad in my life."

I close my eyes and a song comes out. It was my mom's favorite song.

"I walked through the door with you, the air was cold. But something about it felt like home somehow and I left my scarf there at your sister's house and you still got it in your drawers even now..." I continue to sing until I'm sobbing.

I can't finish the song. It hurts too much.

I suddenly feel something touch my shoulder. I look up and see a girl about 18 years old in a uniform and a boy about 20 in a jacket and jeans.

It was mom and Zayn the age when they first met in spirit form.

How they looked when all of this began. 

They're smiling at me. 

The next thing I feel is a real hand. I look behind me and it's Tristan. "We're waiting for you." 

"Okay." I say getting up. We walk back to the others.

I won't forget their story.

About the cruise ship. 






I won't forget these bruises my mom endured.

Well, tell her that i miss our little talks.


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