Golden Box Book Publishing One Picture: Thousands of Words | Page 87

“Wait! You can’t leave me. I need you,” Chrissie cried out as she
ran towards the fading figure. Nevertheless, Cheryl didn’t come back.
Chrissie fell to the ground and cried tears that had refused to come in
September after the accident. The sobs racked her body and the
sounds of her wails echoed through the hillside. When she could cry
no more, she pushed herself up and trudged back to the house.
The sun had finished its daily journey and the stars were twinkling
through the rain clouds gathered on the horizon. Chrissie fell into her
bed and fell asleep before her head hit the pillow.
That night she slept a dreamless sleep and, in the morning, woke
up feeling as if a weight lifted from her shoulders. I’m not
responsible for Cheryl’s death, so why does Mom blame me for the
accident? Cheryl wouldn’t let me help her. Mom made us move
because of the accident. I didn’t want to move here. I don’t belong
here. Maybe, I could go back to our old house.
The temperatures in Pennsylvania had been unseasonably warm
for autumn so Chrissie dressed in lightweight clothing and headed
downstairs for a quick breakfast. Mom and Aunt Sybil were already
there.
“Chrissie, what are your plans for this fine Saturday in October?”
Aunt Sybil asked. “Do you think you could drive me into town, and
we can pick up some stuff for your birthday party?”
Chrissie’s lips quivered and her eyes grew to the size of hockey
pucks. “No, I can’t drive. I’ll never drive again.”
“Birthday party? I don’t think that it would be a good idea this
year. Your sister has only been gone a month. I’m not ready to
dredge up the memories of your birthdays and the accident. It would
be too painful,” Mom said with a hint of sadness in her voice.
“Chrissie, why didn’t you come home the way we always come