LOCKWOOD: EPISODE 2

    

NOA POV ❤️

My room felt congested, like I was in a room without air. All I could see was my best friend's face, her smile, her laugh even her frown. I could see it all imprinted in my brain like a never ending video tape.

It was already two weeks after her death, two weeks after I'd been released from the hospital. Two weeks after dad came back from his business trip. A lot had happened in two weeks but I wish these two weeks didn't have to end because I could not face what today was. It was her wake. If I felt like this during her wake, how would I feel during her funeral? I couldn't even say "HER" name, because I fear if I do the pain would be twice as unbearable as it is now. I was still in my thoughts when mum opened my bedroom door.

"Querida, el desayuno está listo." (My dear, breakfast is ready) mum said looking at me.

"No tengo hambre" ( I'm not hungry) I said looking at my bedroom window fixing the dress I was supposed to wear for the wake. Looking at myself, I didn't recognize who I was anymore, my brown skin was pale, my hazel eyes looked bloodshot from lack of sleep and my hair? I hated my hair, it was too curly and unruly for its own good. She always said I should cut it, and now she's dead.

"Mija," mum said touching my shoulders. "I know you're hurt about what happend, but Claire would not want to see you like this, she would want you to be happy not starving yourself." I turned around and looked at mum. She put her fingers on my hair and she started stroking it. She loved doing that a lot but I wasn't in the mood for it today. So I gently removed her fingers.

"You know what mum, " I said standing up. "Claire also wouldn't have liked her throat slit near the parking lot of max Cornwell's house, but her throat was still slit anyway. She was still murdered, like a pig! So please don't tell me what my bestfriend would have wanted for me because I would much prefer it if she was here to tell me that herself," I said already crying.

"Mija," mum said looking worried she tried touching me but I dodged her.

"Please, don't... I don't want to talk about it, please?" With that mum left the room and I cried again for the hundredth time.

Claire's family was pretty well off. Her mother was a surgeon but her father died when she was just six. The poor woman must be devastated that the two most important people she loved were dead while my parents who were still alive were hardly around. My relationship with my parents was kind of strained. My mother and I got along sometimes, but my father and I? A whole entirely different story. We never got along, ever! The reason for this was that dad was hardly around. He owned one of the biggest wine producing factory in the country, so he was away on business trips almost all the time cause there were several other branches else where. 

My dad started out small we were just a low class Madrid family when I was born. Mum and dad had me pretty early. They were both 18 and just graduated from high school. My grandfather was a man of tradition and he insisted dad had to marry mum and so he did. He got into college and grandpa got him a small internship at a wine producing company back in Madrid. That was when dad discovered his love for wine. He proved his worth and here he is now, one of the most successful business men in the country but there is one thing my father failed in and that was his relationship with his child. Dad was practically married to his job and had absolutely no time for me at all unless it was for emergencies and that took a toll on me. I have a father but it's as good as being fatherless. 

As for mum, she owned a bakry, Sometimes she's there and sometimes she's not. It's mostly just on and off with her. I think this was majorly because she never went to collage. She had me to take care of after all, she would always say. I always wondered if she wanted more than this, more than being a bakery shop owner.

"Noa, we're here get down," he says without so much as a glance. Mum looks at me and smiles, we all get down from the car but I ask my self one question.

Am I ready for this?.

To be continued...