PROLOGUE

Loosing someone hurts. Painful to remember and to even reminisce.Loosing her father in a car accident seventeen-year old Eva tries to find a new direction in life with a mysterious companion.

          Years back when I was still daddy's little girl I always find myself in awe of daddy's artwork. Rows of the perfect symmetrical paintings he used to display among his art pieces in the garage were mesmerizing and they're being sold out. One by one each painting is removed from a wall until those walls of my favorite paintings were replaced by another. I used to whine about why they're being handed to other people. They were like ants swarming dad's garage which now became a studio for his paintings to display. Neighbors usually came but also dad's closest friends. The studio was surprisingly big and clean and it houses his creation. I could still remember the smell of acrylic and pastel on each canvas. He was ecstatic about it all the time and every time I asked he dismisses me off, slowly leading me to a kitchen or the living room as he assists one of his clients. He returned to where I was sitting on our soft couch after the negotiation and kneeled in front of me. "You're pouting again honey" he said and sighed. "Now daddy wants to know what's bothering you lately" he asks as he grabbed my knees with both of his hands massaging them. "I love the foyer painting daddy you shouldn't sell it to them" I murmured. Instead of looking at him I gaze at the window into a bee heading towards a flower.

   "Mom's not here kiddo, this is the only temporary job I can get used to" he said and added "as long as I can find one decent job we can keep some of them". Dad brushes my hair with his left hand, tucking it in my ears and place my head on his big bulky chest. Thinking about mom made me sick, I don't even  like thinking about her and her d****e boyfriend. She left us for that egotistical dude and now it's just me and dad. They were fighting about it one night as I overheard them saying about the other not being good enough but mostly it was about money money money so I left and headed on my bedroom and cried. Minutes later mom came leaning against the door, arms across her chest "Eva will you stop crying you're overreacting again" voice like needles, mom knows how to keep the tears coming.  Seconds later I hear dad's footsteps, gesturing towards the hallway mom waves me off  "look here he comes, have fun with her Rych" then walk out like I'm not worth it in her life. My dad closes the door and hops into the pinkest  bed ever making it wobble. I am as sad as a broken doll but it made me giggle. "Hey kiddo" he said taking a long and shaky inhale and lets it out. He rubs his auburn hair before speaking "Listen, about mom and me you need to understand that it's our business okay, you shouldn't be worry everything is just a little complicated right now and you're too young for all of this, but what I do want you to know is that daddy is gonna be making ice cream cakes tomorrow" he said and attempting to do a 'YEY' cheer. He is good at cheering me up and it was a little weird cause daddy used to sleep with mom but that night he didn't. As he was asleep I could hear wheels rolling down the hallway and a door shut with occasional bumps on the side of a door. An engine roared to life and I knew it was mom. I don't have to look up to know if dad is awake cause he was crying quietly while my head rests in his chest and tears starts to swell under my eyelids.

          

           In between ragged breaths all I could think was 'I'm going to be mom-less daughter of a single father tomorrow'.' Daddy would be wife-less tomorrow '. So with that I slept in deep sadness thinking about missing the aroma of scrabbled eggs tomorrow morning. The sound of the air sucking vacuum barely audible now since dad uses it sometimes and the sound of mom's humming.But I wasn't looking forward into seeing my mom's face again in the morning I was looking forward to a bright new beginnings.  So I forced myself to sleep and gave up crying as dad's heavy breathing started to slow down. 

          The paintings help with our financial status as dad explained to me I finally understood why he really needed to do it. He was finding a way to make this all work to prove to my mom that he can do it alone with me. It's sad to see the paintings go into unknown cargoes and SUV's but on the bright side we manage our happy life together. Dad really worked his butts off on that time. Those weeks and nights of hard work just to basically sell it into his gallery is immeasurable. Dad was not just a painter he was a committed artist in life. Doing what makes him happy, us happy.We'd go hiking and swimming as a father-daughter hang out on summer and he'd also help me with my projects. Ice creams and cakes and birthday bashes. He did those just for me to be happy and reaching at the age 14, never have I regret of having him by my side. I kept thinking that maybe it's going to be always me and dad doing this thing together till his last breath. So when the day came, the day which took his last breath. It was the Fourth of July when dad was coming home after displaying his paint on a studio in Brooklyn. His car found it's tire's on a slippery lane and slam himself on a huge oak tree, at least that's what our neighbor Martha carefully explained to me while holding back tears. Everything became blurry and the world suddenly stopped. My brain stopped. I was thinking about how my last happiness was taken away from me in an instant and an instant I was taken away too. Not to him but to somewhere else, in a dark room where no one else could hear but me.

 

          The day after the burial of my father, being stuck on my own bedroom alone that night sucks. Staring at the windows into the starry sky Martha came to my room "your daddy was a good man Eva" she said. I didn't have the mood of talking my dead father at that moment. She crosses the bed and held me closer and tightly in her embrace. I could feel the tears rushing in her face and dropping into my curls and then without a minute I joined in. My cheeks were soaked in on the night. The next day my aunt arrived picking me up after hearing the news and she pulled her car into the curb and jump out seconds before running towards me and as I walk out into the foyer to greet her she pulled me into a hug. I could feel her warmth uneven breath trying so hard to steady herself. That night she swore that she'd  took care of me from now on, her husband would also come by but will only do occasional visits. Uncle Jack is working in NYC as a Photographer and aunt Rosie works at a restaurant which is a one drive away from here.

 

          Afternoon came, I was on my study table near my bedroom window when aunt Rosie  suddenly walks in holding a canvas. "Look what your father painted, I think it's for you" she said carefully turning the white canvas which is now has an image. Perfectly streaks of color smooth out the edges and a vivid image of the same foyer painting came back to me. "But dad sold it" I said "Looks like he did another one for you, you know how long it would take your father to do this right?" she asked. I nodded. "Then shall we display it on your room?" I smiled "Yes". I was grinning as the image was laid above the pink bed's headboard.

          After dinner which consists of aunt Rosie's delicious recipes I went back into my room, it was close to evening and the stars were increasingly  popping out of the vacant purplish clouds. I don't know what happened next or what pulled me to do it but I was dragged by own feet at the window sill supposedly looking at the sky when my eyes darted to a little figure down the street.

          It was a boy wearing a jet black jacket, the hood covering his head running at the curb he was panicking as I can see with smoke billowing around his mouth.  A cigarette on his smug lips and fear overwhelmed him as he took of the street to the next side of the road. A lady was shouting behind him in jeans and boots and all. As I look closer it looks like the boy's holding a bag and I was so stupid into thinking this me as a little girl staring at an event happening outside could help. For a second he turned his head he had dirty blond hair and his eyes found mine for a half a second before turning and headed into another road. My head darted for the door but before I could run downstairs to call my aunt and the police. I heard a tires outburst and a smack of bones and flesh hit the ground. 

 

          Turning quickly, eyes wide, the image of the black hooded boy was on the ground. The bag still clutched in his hands as blood seeping out of his ribs flooding the curb. What happened next will forever haunt me. 

  

  A U Hall truck stopped and a man frantically climbs out of the truck in a whimpering voice and into the pale face that awaits for him at the side of the road. I turned my head away quickly cause normally since I was still young at that time the dead was supposed to be scary to look at. I didn't even want to imagine what my dad looks like when that oak tree found his body. But it's not the fact dad died without a single image, no one was with him at that time, not a single goodbye note which would be his last words to the face he so badly wanted to see, his only daughter or the little boy's body on the road, red liquid coming out of his mouth and gashes on his nose. 

  

  It was the fact that when he hit that curb he was staring at me and smiled before his last breathe reached the end of its line.

  

Author's Note

I apologize for any incorrect grammars and sentences. I really really appreciate if you read it. This is only the prologue and Chapter 1 is coming soon.

I am open to any opinions about my writing, negative or positive. It helps me improve my writing skills even more. Any suggestions would be really great too. Enjoy =)