The days are passing by like cars on a street, gone in a matter of seconds. And I don't think I'm quite ready. The funerals tomorrow and I'm not ready. I'm not. My uncle seams to think I am... Well, he thinks I'm moved on already, he thinks I'm ready to just move on with my life, live on my own, only months after my parents murder but I can't. I just can't and in every way possible I try to show him this. That I'm not ready, that I need someone's shoulder to cry on but I'm afraid it will never be his.
"Emily, I swear to God, your zoned out every time I walk into the room" my uncle scoffs, marching it. He was looking as smart as ever, dressed in his sergeants uniform with his hair once again, freshly cropped. He cropped it every few days so that it always remained incredibly short. He tells me that it's always best to keep your hair cut short. That the point of a 'fashion statement' - as he likes to call them - can depend on a mans life or his death. What he means by this is that there's no point making an effort with your appearance when in the military, or as any sort of soldier. There's no point having the latest hair cut because when at war or battling, if that 'fashionable hair cut' got in the way, in your eyes and you missed your target because of it. You or others could be dead, all for the sake of a 'fashionable hair cut'. Deep. Isn't it. That's how my uncle works though, he doesn't have a sense of humour nor even the mind to be able to accept sarcasm or anything outside or the military. He's been there his whole life practically. You probably wonder why I spend so much time telling you something like this that you couldn't care less about. I guess you could call it a distraction. It keeps my mind off tomorrow...
"Sorry sir" I reply to his previous comment, glancing up at him. He gives me a disapproving look before continuing too wonder around the room.
"Are you ready for tomorrow" he asks raising an eye brow. My heart aches at his words, I beg of him to stop being so morbid. I don't answer.
"Emily! After Mondays little out break, I suggest you try to redeem yourself before you do indeed begin to anger me" he says, his posture stiffening as he points his noise to the celling starring down at me.
"Sorry" I mumble and look down. That was the first thing he had said about Monday, when I had lost my temper and stormed out of there. He didn't seam... Too bad about it. I guess, he very slightly may have considered how selfish it was to not be at my parents funeral and may just this once, realised he was in the wrong for once. I very much doubt it.
"Have you picked out the appropriate clothing" he asks straightening one of the meddles that attached to his army green shirt. I nod my head and swiftly move from the seat,
"My apologise uncle - sir but I must be going, I need to..." I pause, em... Excuse, excuse, excuse.
"I need too... Tidy my room, it's highly unacceptable for such a young lady at my age" I nod towards him bowing slightly before I leave without another word. Jesus! I speak and act like he's the bloody queen! Well... He basically is on this camp, he's one of the main people in charge, he doesn't take orders, he gives them. Now you see why I have to make up ridiculous excuses to get out of there. I match back to the house, muttering words under my voice. When I finally reach the house, I see the door is open. I frown and push it open a little more taking one step in.
"Hello" I call in hopes for an answer. I get nothing. I frown walking in a little more. You would think I would be quite afraid or panicked at tho moment, that someone's in my house. Nope. The military is the safest place to be... Ever. Who ever it is, I can tell you is not a threat. I walk down the long hallway bit suddenly jump, startled when my uncles office door swings open and out comes a guy. It's the same gorgeous guy from Monday.
"Oh you again" I mutter rudely. Hey! Give me a break, I'm under a lot of stress at the moment.
"What are you doing here again" I frown an the next thing he dose, I'm surprised I don't scream at him for it. He dose the exact same thing he did Monday, he doesn't answer and just walks blatantly past me. This is seriously beginning to piss me off.
"Hey!" I shout following him to the door,
"You obviously work for my uncle, I could get you into a lot of trouble" I lie folding my arms. My uncle doesn't listen to me on a daily basses, why would he listen to me to complain about one of his soldiers. Besides even if he did listen, he would never fire or get ride of or do whatever to any of his soldiers because I wanted him too. This causes him to stop an I smirk to myself but all he dose is simply smirk back showing off his pearly white teeth adding an extra point to his scale of perfection... He broke the scale. His gorgeous brown eyes catch mine and his smirk widens as he winks and then leaves. It's as simple as that. I swallow the lump in my throat and decide to ignore him. I'm not the type of person to chase after someone. Especially if that person is a mute. I roll my eye slamming the door after him and make my way to my room but I stop half way. I glance at my uncles office and decide to rebel against my uncles word. I'm not aloud to go into his office... Ever. But I see nothing wrong with it. Walking in, it's practically the same as his office back in the camp but this time, there's more furniture and more frames of pictures including me as a child and my parents. I swallow looking at the canvas with me when I was about seven, my parents and my uncle on it. I miss moments like this. My eyes travel to my parents and immediately my eyes begin to water. I quickly look away and am out of the room and am upstairs crying into my pillow before you know it. My pillow begins to soak with tears as I sob hopelessly into my pillow. I miss my parents so much...
I'm like this for three quarters of an hour, crying into my pillow. Without a hope in hell of comfort. Finally being able to pull myself together, I sit up, I dry my tears and once again pick up my book. Reding seams to make time fly and now, all I want is for time to hurry up. I went through the stage of not wanting the funeral to come to now the stage I wanting it to hurry up an come, to get it over and done with. Wiping my eyes, I focus on the words of the book, each and every single individual one, taking it all in. I wish my life was a book, so that I could read the ending, be prepared for any hard decisions in life or anything remotely bad. Anything that will make life a little bit easier.
Hey x short chapter I know sorry, will update soon, comment what you think please xxxxx
And OMG thank you so much for getting it on the popular page already xxxx