Chapter 2: Agonizing Remembrances

I slowly descended the stairs, taking in every word my mom said, and the weight of her voice seemed to grow heavier with every passing moment. My heart sank at the mention of my grandparent's house. The thought of it being in a state of disrepair filled me with an overwhelming sense of sadness.

"What do you mean?" I asked, hoping that maybe it wasn't as bad as she made it seem.

"I mean, the house has been neglected for a while now. There are cracks in the walls, the roof is leaking, and some of the windows are broken. I didn't want to tell you before, but I think you need to see it for yourself."

I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes. The thought of my grandparent's home falling apart was almost too much to bear. It was the one place where I always felt safe and loved, and now it was in shambles.

I almost want to go immediately, but a sharp pain slices through my chest like a knife, and suddenly I'm flooded with questions. Am I really ready for this? Can I handle facing the world and all of the pain and uncertainty it holds? Can I bear to see what has become of the house where I made so many precious memories with my beloved grandparents? The thought of it all makes my head spin and my heart ache, and I'm not sure if I'm strong enough to face it all.

"I... I-I I don't know..."

My mom was quiet and she stood there, looking at where I am, patiently waiting for whatever I decided to do.

My mom stood there in silence, her gaze fixed on me as I stood contemplating my next move. She didn't pressure me to make a decision or say anything to sway me one way or the other. Instead, she waited patiently, allowing me to come to my own conclusion in my own time.

"I... I can't handle this, mom," I muttered, my voice quivering with fear and uncertainty. "I don't know what to do... I don't know what to think."

My mother climbed up the stairs and enveloped me in her arms, holding me close as tears streamed down my face.

"It's okay, sweetie," she whispered, her words a balm to my wounded heart. "You don't have to do anything you're not ready for. Just know that I'm here for you, always."

But her comforting words couldn't dispel the gnawing ache in my chest. The thought of my grandparents' house haunted me, and I couldn't help but wonder what had become of it since their passing. Would it still be standing? Would their cherished possessions still be there, waiting for me to claim them?

The weight of responsibility crushed me, knowing that I would soon inherit the house and all its memories. But what had I done to protect it? To honor my grandparents' legacy? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

A sense of shame washed over me, and I couldn't help but ask myself, "What am I even doing?"

"I-I'll go see it," I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

My voice quivered as I spoke, my heart pounding in my chest. The thought of facing the remnants of my grandparents' home was daunting, but I couldn't bear the thought of losing the last tangible connection to them.

My mom's eyes widened at my request, and for a moment, she seemed to hesitate. But then she took a deep breath and nodded firmly.

"Of course, honey. I'll be right there with you. We'll face it together."

The weight of her words was not lost on me. My mom had always been my pillar of strength, but even she couldn't erase the pain and emptiness that had been growing inside me since my grandparents passed away.

As I hugged her tightly, tears streaming down my face, I couldn't help but feel grateful for her unwavering support. She was the only one I had left in this world, and I knew I could count on her to stand by my side no matter what.

*****

With a heavy heart, I agreed to go to my grandparents' house on the same day. It was an impulsive decision, but I couldn't bear the thought of letting go of the only thing left of my grandparents. Besides, in just two years, the house would be named after me, and it was my responsibility to keep it in good shape.

As I got ready to clean the house, I didn't waste too much time picking out my clothes. I knew I would get dirty anyway, so I grabbed a random white shirt and my old black jeans. I tied a red bandana around my head out of habit, something I always did when I wore a white shirt. But as I looked at myself in the mirror, a strange feeling washed over me.

It was my hair.

With my short hair ending just above my shoulders, it looked strange to tie a bandana around my head. It didn't look as pretty as it used to when I had long hair. Should I take it off? But Glenda was already knocking on my door, signaling that it was time to go. It was too late to make a decision, so I left it on.

*****

Standing before the double panel doors, I could feel my heart pounding against my chest. Leaving the house was something I never thought I would do again. My mom stood by my side, her comforting smile urging me to take the next step. But could I do it? Could

I face the outside world after being cooped up for so long?

Finally, I gathered my courage and pushed open the doors. The warm wind whipped my hair back, reminding me that I was truly outside. Stepping onto the stone path, I was greeted by the brick stone fountain at the center of the curving pavement. The sound of the water was soothing, but it only served as a reminder of what I was leaving behind.

While my mother went to retrieve the cars, I couldn't help but stare at the fountain. The water seemed to flow endlessly, always circling back to where it started. Was that what my life would be like now? Always coming back to where I started?

In the car, my mother and Glenda discussed what we would need to clean up my grandparents' old house. I didn't want to feel useless, so I insisted on joining them at the hardware store.

As we walked in, the smell of fresh wood and tools filled my nostrils. It was a strange sensation, being out and exploring once again.

But as we walked further into the store, the realization hit me that my grandparents were no longer with us. It was just me, my mother, and Glenda. No Gramps to guide me or comfort me in this strange new world.

As I stood there, my heart racing and my head spinning, I couldn't help but feel like I had made a terrible mistake. What was I doing here? Outside of the safety of my home, where I could control everything and make sure that nothing could hurt me.

But now, everything felt dangerous and out of control. The air felt thick and oppressive, making it hard to breathe. The world around me seemed to spin out of control, leaving me feeling lost and helpless.

I tried to call out to my mom and Glenda, but my voice failed me. They were nowhere to be seen, and I felt like I was all alone in the world.

That was when I saw the shelf, looming tall and solid against the chaos of the store. I stumbled towards it, desperate to find something to hold onto before I fell.

But instead of finding solid ground, I found myself crashing into someone else. I felt their chest against my face and heard the clatter of metal cans as they hit the ground.

"Oops," the person I bumped into said, to which I learned was a boy.

I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment as I tried to apologize, but my words were cut off by my mother's voice calling out to me.

She pulled me away, and I stumbled after her, feeling like I had made a fool of myself in front of everyone.

As we left the store, I couldn't help but steal a glance back at the boy who had helped me. He was cleaning up the mess I had made, his expression kind and understanding.

But all I could think about was how clumsy and helpless I felt.

*****

Standing in front of my grandparents' house, I hesitated. It had been so long since I set foot in this place, and now, I wasn't sure if I wanted to continue walking. As the gate opened, the house loomed before me, designed to look like a narrow lot house despite the large land it stood upon. The white paint that used to adorn the walls had now turned yellowish due to a lack of maintenance.

Taking a step inside, the smell of freshly mowed lawn filled my nostrils. The foot trail led me to the entrance of the house proper, which was only a few yards away from the gate. Unlike our house, there was no need to walk a great distance from the gate to the doorstep.

Hesitation consumed me, and I couldn't shake off the feeling of disturbing the peace of the house I used to love. The thought recurred from the back of my mind, causing me to stop in my tracks.

"Sweetie, are you okay?" my mother's meek voice chimed in from behind me, causing me to jump slightly. I recomposed myself before answering, "I-I'm fine, mom..."

Encouraging me, she nodded her head towards the entrance of the house where Glenda stood, handing all our stuff to Chandler. A little older than me, Chandler was probably 18 or 19, but I couldn't remember. He gathered all our stuff from Glenda, his hair slightly outgrowing on his face, framing his strong complexion. Chandler was slightly pale, considering the slightly harsh climate, but he sent me a warm smile before disappearing through the door.

He was the housekeeper my dad hired a few months ago to maintain the house, the person who had stayed behind while I took a hiatus and all cooped up in my own little world.

As I stood frozen in the doorway, the weight of the emptiness in the house settled in my bones like a leaden cloak. The familiar warmth and joy that used to fill the air were now absent, replaced by a hollow chill that echoed through the empty halls. It was as though the very essence of the house had been drained away, leaving only a shell of what it once was.

My eyes roamed over the shelves and the trinkets and treasures they held. They were the same as I remembered, yet somehow different. The memories of my childhood flooded my mind, memories of running around the house, exploring every nook and cranny, asking my grandparents questions about every object that caught my eye. But now, everything was covered in dust, untouched and unloved.

The realization hit me like a sledgehammer. I had been avoiding this place for too long, too afraid to confront the reality of what had happened. The house was in shambles, left to decay without anyone to tend to it. The guilt and shame of my neglect made my hands clench into fists, and I felt the urge to flee, to run away from the pain and the memories.

But then, my mother's voice interrupted my thoughts, jarring me back to reality. She was calling me, urging me to come inside and help with the chores. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was worth it, if I could face the daunting task of cleaning up and restoring the house to its former glory.

In the end, I decided to stay, to face my fears and help my mother and Glenda with the work. It was the least I could do for my grandparents, who had loved this place with all their hearts. As I looked around the empty rooms, I realized that the only way to honor their memory was to bring life back to the house, to make it a home again, filled with warmth and love. And with that thought,

I took my first step forward, ready to face the pain and the memories that lay ahead.

Would Grams and Gramps be happy if I abandoned their legacy and moped in my room like a caveman?

I forced myself to swallow the lump in my throat and walked further into the house. Glenda and my mother were already busy sweeping and dusting, but I couldn't find it in myself to join them. Instead, I wandered around aimlessly, searching for any trace of the warmth and love that used to fill this place.

My feet led me to a closed door that I used to love to open every day, and I felt a sense of dread wash over me. The hallway was darker and narrower, and dust had accumulated on the floor. My hand reached out to twist the knob, almost against my will, and I pushed the door open. The room was dark, and my hand fumbled for the light switch. When the room was illuminated, I gasped at what I saw.

The Grand Piano my Gramps had bought... for me.

He had known my love for music since the beginning. We had gone on an adventure together and stumbled upon a music shop. I fell in love with one of the pianos, and Gramps couldn't be more supportive of teaching me. On my birthday, he surprised me with the gift of a lifetime, and I was the happiest person alive.

But now, the sight of the piano filled me with pain. I remembered all the times I sat here and played passionately, losing myself in the music with my grandfather. Now, I could never bring myself to play it again, for fear of being consumed by my grief.

As I ran my finger over the smooth cloth that covered the piano, tears streamed down my face. My mother's voice calling my name broke me out of my reverie, and I quickly wiped away the tears, trying to hide my pain.

"I'm sorry, I was just about to start cleaning," I mumbled under my breath as I frantically searched for something to do, anything to avoid the piercing gaze of my mother. The music sheets strewn across the room offered a momentary distraction, so I scrambled to gather them and shove them into their designated cabinet.

But my mother's voice cut through the air like a knife, slicing open my carefully constructed facade.

"This used to be your favorite place," she said, her eyes wandering around the room. I froze, my heart pounding in my chest.

I tried to brush off her words, to pretend like they didn't hurt me, but they cut deep. This room, once a source of joy and comfort, now felt like a prison. Memories of my grandfather flooded back, taunting me with their sweetness and reminding me of what I had lost.

"We should be cleaning," I said, my voice trembling as I busied myself with the dust-covered Grand Piano. I ran my fingers over the cloth covering it, feeling the weight of my grief like a physical presence.

"I could help you sort things out in here"

My mother's sudden offer to help caught me off guard. Despite my best efforts to push her away, she remained a constant presence in my life, always willing to help even when I didn't deserve it. I watched as she crossed the room and began to clean, feeling a mix of guilt and gratitude wash over me.

As I unpacked the boxes of music sheets and placed them neatly on the shelves, my mind wandered to memories of my childhood.

The trophies lining the shelves reminded me of the piano contests I had won as a child, of the praise and admiration I had received.

But those memories now felt distant and hollow, empty shells of a life I no longer had.

I looked over at my mother, her face lined with the weariness of years of struggle and heartache. Despite my mistreatment of her, she had never given up on me. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I realized how much I had taken her for granted, how much I had hurt her.

"Mom?" I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you." The words felt inadequate, but they were all I could manage.

A small smile crept onto my mother's face, and for a moment, the weight of our shared pain felt a little lighter. Together, we worked to clean the room that had once been my sanctuary, and although the ache in my heart remained, it felt like maybe, just maybe, I could start to heal.

*****

The day had been excruciatingly long, filled with the arduous task of cleaning. My body ached, and I could feel every muscle protesting as I sat on the plush carpet in the expansive living room. The house was far too large for just the two of us, a habit my father had inherited from my grandfather, who believed that size mattered more than practicality. It didn't matter if there were only a few people living in the house, as long as it was grand, it was worth having.

As I stretched my arms above my head, attempting to soothe the throbbing pain, I couldn't help but wonder why we even bothered with such a large house. It was as though the empty rooms echoed with the memories of a family that no longer existed.

But today was different. Today, I had spent the day working hard, something that had become an unfamiliar feeling over the past few months. I had spent my days cooped up in my room, lost in my own world of pain and anguish. Today, however, I had pushed myself to the brink, and it was starting to show. The sweat had dried on my back, and my body was begging for rest.

As I yawned, fighting the urge to collapse onto the floor, Glenda entered the room, carrying a few items that she needed to put away. I offered to help her, but she declined, insisting that I needed some fresh air after pushing myself so hard. And she was right, I did need some air.

I had forgotten what it felt like to be outside, to feel the cool breeze on my skin. It had been so long since I had ventured into the backyard, and the thought of doing so now was both terrifying and exhilarating. As I made my way outside, I felt a rush of emotions flood over me. Memories of happier times mixed with the pain of the present, creating a feeling of overwhelming sadness.

I decided to drop my phone off to my mom's bag that she left on the kitchen counter and proceeded outside.

I made my way to the back door that led to the backyard. The sliding doors weren't that smooth to slide anymore, but I try my best to pull them open.

The cooling wind hits me directly to the face, slightly freezing my whole body. I stepped out of the door and started to walk towards the yard, the sun directly facing me.

All the exhaustion that I've felt for over 3 months seemed to dissipate as I took in the liberating sight of green adorning the backyard.

I inhaled deeply, relishing the crispness of the air as it filled my lungs. It was a welcome respite from the stuffiness of the house. As I gazed around the backyard, my eyes fell on the trees my grandparents had planted years ago. They looked forlorn and forgotten, their branches stretching out as if reaching for something they could no longer have. I couldn't help but feel guilty for neglecting them.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, my voice barely audible over the rustling leaves. It was a habit I had developed over the years - apologizing to inanimate objects that I had failed to take care of.

But my moment of introspection was abruptly shattered when a putrid odor hit my nostrils. I gagged, trying to suppress the cough that threatened to escape my lips. The smell grew stronger with each passing moment, overpowering the scent of the trees and the wind.

"What the hell is that?" I muttered, my eyes narrowing in disgust. And then, I heard it - a hissing noise that sounded like someone was spraying something. The sound was coming from beyond the concrete walls that marked the boundaries of the property.

Without thinking, I made my way towards the gate that led to the outside world. As I approached it, a feeling of unease settled in the

pit of my stomach. I knew I shouldn't be doing this, but my curiosity always got the better of me.

As I peered through the small opening in the gate, my heart sank. There was a guy - a tall guy - standing on the other side. He was spray painting the walls with reckless abandon, his movements fluid and confident. I watched in horror as he defaced the pristine white surface with colorful patterns and designs. And then, I saw it - a duffel bag filled with spray paint cans lying beside him.