People always leave traces. No person is without a shadow.

{ this book is from my account on Wattpad - @clestroyed }
AMAZING COVER BY = @goofy_nialler


2. first




A / N :
hello darlings, welcome to my new story.. Would like to say a thank you to those who are reading right now. I hope you enjoy this and like I said this is dedicated to my Grandma along with all the people who are mentioned in the chapters.

So without further ado, here is chapter one.

Much love,
Charlie xx

{ p.s. Please do listen to the song as I think it fits perfectly with this chapter: this is my favourite song EVER so I totally recommend. Also, sorry for the shortness of this chapter - it will grow longer. }


|| For Fay, who is awesome||


f i r s t


[ o l i v i a  ]


My left hand tangled itself through my brown strands. I sighed, highly strung, my slender fingers with coated black nail polish drumming repeatedly on the table's surface.

My leg bouncing up and down rapidly, my teeth scraping my lip drawing splotches of blood, repetitive swallowing, fiddling with the loose ends of my jacket, my breathing coming out ragged.

Okay, I was nervous.

The miasma of the hospital food, which appeared to look more like slop, hit my nose. I exhaled shuddery breaths, my eyes glancing around the room, watching nurses.

Elderly, children, adults, babies. They were all here. Most crying and gloomy, some happy and bright, a few just blank - able to hide their emotions and fears to the world that only they know.

"Olivia Corelli?" My head snapped over to the aged doctor, who's eyes were travelling over the heads and I shot up, rushing up to him. He stepped back slightly, his startled expression clear on his face.

We walked through numerous halls and stopped at a wooden door. I felt too jittery to be bothered to wait or even look around. He turned to me as I studied his features, old greying head, soft brown eyes and milky, pale skin.

"Olivia -- "

"Please. Call me Livvie." I rushed out.

"Sorry," He chuckled gently. "Livvie. I'm Mr Moore and your mother is my patient. Okay, which first, good news or bad news?"


"Good news, your mother is healing and well." I nodded, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip. "Bad news, is that -- " He paused, his eyes flickering down, turning somewhat sad, making my heart race even faster. "Mrs Corelli is in a coma."

My face crumpled.

"I'm afraid, this is because she had a brain tumour."

One stab to the heart.

"She won't be waking up for quite some time."

His voice drowned. I closed my eyes and dragged in a deep breath.

My heart was constantly being poked, creating a succession of pins and needles.

His name call brought me back to reality. "Livvie?"

My eyes snapped up to meet his.

"I'm sorry," Mr Moore's voice was faint, his expression warm, and he held out an arm to pull me in.

I accepted and he tightened his hold on me, obviously feeling sympathetic.

The hug was in a way, comforting but still felt rather awkward. He patted my back, in attempt to muster my courage.

Mr Moore slowly let me go, all actions and bearing, silent.

Opening the door, I saw my mother laying lifeless and pallid.

My feet ran up to her, grasping her hand and pressing my lips to it.


I couldn't cry. She wouldn't like me to cry.

"Oh my gosh." I muttered, my lips moving against the back of her limp hand. "I'm not going to shed tears.. I can assure you that." A chuckle escaped my lips. "You wouldn't like that would you? I'm going -- " I stopped, shaking my head slightly, "I'm going to note down when you wake up and find your list of chores for me to do, okay?

"I'm going to complete every single one, even if it takes me hours, day, months and even years, I'm doing it for you, mum. I love you. Yes, it sucks having you on a life machine but you know what, I'm promise to scramble around for your bucket list, save up money and we are definitely achieving every single sentence you have noted down.

"I cross my heart. Hope to die, stick a needle in my eye. I will visit you most days and create a playlist of all the Taylor Swift songs, Ed Sheeran, Kodaline, Bastille, the Beatles and many other singers/bands, I can think of. I love you mum. No matter how many times I say it, or even if I don't show it, my love will never change for you." I breathed in, stroking a few locks away from my mother's porcelain face. Her appearance was still flawless, no matter how unwell she looked, her green cat-like eyes, the smattering of freckles across her cheeks, and her cute curvy lips.

I pecked a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Walking out of the hospital, I was able to claw onto the last threads and still have hope.


          I unlocked my front door, pushing it open. Switching on the lights, I picked up the letters flicking through them, seeing a couple of late payments. I shut my eyes briefly, and clipped the notices up in the fridge. 

Pulling out a notepad, I grabbed a pen and started writing a list.

     1) Get a proper job. (Working down the coffee shop doesn't count - if you don't get paid)

     2) Find mum's bucket/chores list.

     3) Decorate the house with friends.

     4) Do not become an introvert.

     5) Take exercise lessons.

I chewed on my pen, nothing else coming to mind. I ripped out the page and again, attached it to the fridge along with the notices and memorable photographs. 

I recalled the pictures, my lips lifted into a smile as my index finger traced the outline of our faces.

I inhaled.

I can do this.

I can prove to my mother that she will wake up.


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