I spent about two hours talking to my father about Tyler, ranting about how much of a jerk he was to everyone and how I was sure that Mom wouldn't be able to hold herself together today.

My prediction was pretty accurate.

I let myself into my house just after darkness had fallen. The night sky still carried traces of peach and pink that had been left behind by the gruelling day that I experienced. I was mentally drained and exhausted from my two encounters with Tyler and was desperately seeking comfort food and a good Disney movie.

A gut-wrenching feeling choked me when my ears grew accustomed to the distant wailing. I could hear her. I slotted my key into the lock and twisted the door open, exhaling sharply at the ominous feeling that settled inside me. Fear yawned open inside my stomach like a black hole and it took everything within me not to double over and cry because she had done it again.

The sharp stench of alcohol stang my nostrils making me wrinkle my nose with displeasure and I pursed my full lips into a straight line.

"Mom?" My voice broke as another wail rang through the house.

She looked immaculate this morning. She was doing so well. What went wrong?

I stepped into the hallway and kicked off my chucks, trying to buy myself a minute of sanity before I entered the living room. I don't know why I felt disappointed, I mean it's just the way she deals with it every year but I just couldn't help but feel let down. It was like she was escaping the reality of the tragedy, leaving me to deal with it all alone.

A choking sob resonated through the house before it dissolved into a series of helpless whimpers.

"Jeremy, why d-did you leave me?"

It came out in big slur as if the words were stumbling over each other trying to get out in one big rush. I squinted and trudged into the living room. Groping the wall for the light switch, I acknowledged the two empty wine bottles strewn at the foot of the couch. All the lights were switched off but I could still make out the slumped figure shaking on the carpet.

"Jem, I miss you so m-much it's k-killing me! It's b-been eight years and I c-can't move on..."

My finger found the switch and light flooded the room when I paused by the doorway. My breath hitched and my chest caved in as if the air was being forcefully sucked out of my lung.

Just like every year, the bottles were discarded beside my mother whilst she lay on the floor in a crumpled heap as if she was kneeling at an altar, praying for a miracle - an unheard miracle to bring the dead back.

"We were supposed to g-grow old together...We made plans when we were twelve to visit London, Paris, Sydney, Beijing...What am I supposed to do with those empty plans now?"

My heart hammered painfully in my chest, clenching with sadness. She spent the entire year holding everything in, flashing me smiles that concealed her inner grief but every year on my birthday she would crack open a bottle and just cry her worries away. She rarely drank except on this occasion and I couldn't exactly yell at her for missing my father when I missed him just as much.

"You weren't just my h-husband, you were my childhood b-best friend and soulmate..." Mom trailed off before letting loose a humourless laugh. "You made my life a living hell sometimes, but that was what made us u-us–"

When she broke down I couldn't take it anymore, I stepped into the room and picked up the two bottles. Mom glanced up and met my eyes with shame. Her pale blue eyes welled up and her face crumpled like paper and I immediately enveloped her into a bear hug.

"Shh shh. Don't cry Mom, p-please," I croaked when she buried her head in my chest.

I hoisted her up to her feet and lured her upstairs. After shuffling towards her room, I kicked the door open and helped her change out of her creased work clothes. I made her drink three cups of water, trying to sober her up enough to relieve the mighty hangover due tomorrow before letting her settle into my arms on her bed. I stroked her blonde hair from root to tip, gently easing it out of its loose bun. Twirling a lock between my index finger, I let my other hand slide down her arm to grip her own hand.

"He would have never wanted this for you," She whispered into the darkness after a long while, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

My rib cage felt like they it was going to collapse in on itself and puncture my lungs. I bit my lip to hold back my tears, shaking my head as I tried to dislodge the lump in my throat.

"You were the light of his world, you know that dear, don't you?"

I nodded and released a shaky breath even though she couldn't see me.

"He used to wonder what type of woman you would grow up to be and we used to talk about all the places we'd take you once we'd have enough money."

Closing my eyes, I felt my father's presence so strongly that I could just about smell his musky aftershave. It was a smell that made me feel safe and secure and happy; but the ache in my chest was making it hard to breathe. Not to mention the fact that my rib cage was squeezing my lungs so tightly that each breath came out as a wheeze.

"When you were a baby he would spend hours singing to you and you used to cry at how bad his voice was, but when he picked you up you would burst out laughing and his beautiful eyes would crinkle as he laughed too."

A cross between a shaky laugh and sob came from my mom when she wiped her cheeks. She lifted her head up to look at me and in the darkness, her stark blue eyes wavered with unshed tears.

"All he ever wanted was for you to have a normal and happy life Ashley."

Normal and happy seemed to represent everything that my life wasn't. It was a chaotic mess of grief and horror that haunted me every night, forcing me to wake up screaming, panting or just sobbing hysterically. That wasn't normal at all, not when the guilt hovering over me the following day was like a thundercloud, like an unwanted presence.

Don't even get me started on my happiness. I haven't felt complete for exactly eight years; not with a gaping hole left in my chest after my father died and that emptiness widened into a black hole when Taylor passed away. Now all my emotions were sucked into that hole making me feel bitter and grumpy all the time.

"It's so uncanny how alike the two of you are. He loved hot chocolate, never made the bed, left dirty laundry around our room and made me want to pull my hair out with frustration when he always lost the TV remote, but he always put everybody else before himself and was always shy around new people, spending all his time daydreaming about our future," Mom trailed off, lifting her head to look at me through the darkness. "You both share those curls and haunting golden-brown eyes."

Her blue eyes seemed to glow, roaming my face as a shaky smile managed to form on her lips.

"Most of all, his legacy lives on in you."

Her luminous eyes and the tenderness in her voice made my chest cave inwards and a sob racked through me.

"Please, s-stop Mom..." I barely choked the words out. "It's too m-much."

I felt her nod against my chest before I finally allowed myself to crumble down. All the emotions that I had held in today: the grief, the anger, the frustration and the pain seethed out of my eyes, drowning my face as I struggled to catch my breath. The lump in throat was just too much to bear. I rocked Mom until I had nothing left inside besides raw eyes and a throbbing headache.

Eventually I must have fallen asleep because I was back inside the passenger seat beside my father singing along to Radio Disney. We were cruising down the highway with the windows rolled down. The crisp summer breeze wove their fingers through my curls, pushing them back so they billowed behind me like a flag.

I turned my head and felt my chest flutter at the handsome man looking down at me from the driver's seat.

"Hey kiddo," He grinned.

"Daddy?"

My voice sounded different. It was high pitched and soft, unlike the gruff voice I used to grumble at my friends at school. Reaching out to him, the car suddenly dissolved into the darkness leaving the two of us floating over a sea made of strips of burning flesh and blood. The bubbling red sea below us gave off a foul stench of rotting meat and I had to clasp a hand over my mouth to keep myself from retching violently.

"What is that?" I asked, my voice muffled behind my palm.

I pointed down at the bubbling, searing strips of skin that floated down below. When he turned to face me, gold eyes melted, dripping down his cheeks and into his brown stubble.

"Why, sweetheart, that's me," He chuckled affectionately, taking his scorching hand between mine.

A convulsive retch made me loosen my grip on his burning hand, leading me to fall down. Down, I fell, down into the red river down below.

"Ashley?" A different voice interjected, scooping me away just as I was about to crash into the scalding scarlet sea.

I jerked awake and blinked five times before groaning at my showered, freshly made mother. Her damp blonde hair tickled my cheeks as she leaned over me, shaking my shoulders gently.

"Mom?" I asked groggily, sitting up and rubbing my head as she stood upright.

She twisted her long hair before wrapping it into a tight bun. As she secured it with bobby pins, I rubbed my eyelids, chasing away any chances of falling back asleep before kicking the duvet until it was tangled around my feet.

"Morning sweetie, I'm running late so you'll have to manage breakfast by yourself today."

I nodded, still dazed and half asleep. My eyes followed her as she darted around the room fussing over her clothes while she slipped on her platform heels. Mom hopped in front of the full length mirror as she struggled to shove her feet into her red skyscrapers, grumbling under her breath when she tilted her head to slip on her pearl earrings.

Sprinting out of the room, I heard the tap running for a split second before she reappeared, leaning against the door looking surprisingly calm and kempt - there wasn't a single remnant of last night's events on her face besides the dark circles she expertly covered up with concealer.

"Ashley?"

I gave her a questioning nod, blindedly blinking up at her as I fumbled around the bed for my glasses. Mom waited until I put them on before continuing.

"About last night..." She trailed off, biting her glossy, red lips as an apologetic expression took over her face. "I'm sorry you had to see me like that. It's just that sometimes, you know, it get's a bit too much and..."

Her voice was barely a whisper when she trailed off again. My heart clenched at her pained grimace. Standing up, I strode over to her and wrapped my arms around her shoulders. To my fortune, I had received my father's genes for his towering height so I was nowhere near as short as she was. Even in heels, she was still about three inches shorter than me. I was nothing compared to the giants at school like Blake or Tyler, who were both a full head taller than me, but I was still taller than most girls.

"It's okay Mom, really, it's okay," I repeated several times, rubbing small circles on her back.

Inhaling the clean scent of soap, strawberry shampoo and a hint of Chanel perfume, I reluctantly pulled away, holding her at arms length and scanning her face.

"Will you be okay today?" I asked, searching my mother's eyes.

She bit her lip again, averting her gaze before blinking at her feet. When she looked back up at me, her eyes were glassy with tears and I felt my own eyes sting quite painfully.

"I'll manage," She nodded slowly, blinking rapidly. "You're okay too, right dear?"

"When am I ever anything but okay," I chuckled, but my voice sounded bitter enough to make her arch a thin eyebrow at me.

Eventually, Mom headed downstairs and shortly after the slam of the front door echoed throughout the silent house. Padding over to my room, I shuffled through my CD collection before settling for one of my father's favourite old-school, rock albums. Cranking up the volume, I grabbed some clean clothes and went to have a shower, fiercely scrubbing away any of the misery that wanted to contaminate my day.

Once I had thrown on fitted black jeans and my favourite red flannel shirt, I trudged downstairs, wolfed down my breakfast in record time, grabbed my tribal printed messenger bag and flew down the road on my bicycle.

All my morning lessons flew by pretty fast but my wallowing dread increased throughout the day until last period: Home Economics. I walked into class just as the bell rang, leading Ms Smith to raise her eyebrows at me as I hurried into my seat. Tyler was already seated, awake and stonily staring straight ahead, ignoring my existence as I rushed past.

"What the hell happened to your face? Bloodshot eyes and puffy lips? Not a good look on you," Michelle cackled from her seat, raking her heavily made eyes over my body.

I rolled my eyes at her and scoffed in reply. "I ask myself the same question every day before remembering that you were born that way."

I flashed her one of my sweetest smiles, turning her one sour. Her dark eyes flashed with fury, narrowing into paper-thin slits before she flipped her middle finger at me. I shrugged nonchalantly but stopped still when I caught Tyler's eyes on me, lips twitching with amusement. However, as soon as his eyes met mine, he quickly looked away and his lips rearranged themselves into their former scowl.

"Ashley stop holding the lesson up and sit down!" Ms Smith bellowed, causing Michelle to flash me a smug smile before she went into a detailed explanation of the lesson plan for today.

I glanced around the classroom at the kitchen worktops and almost groaned out loud. Ingredients were set up, ready for each pair to begin their assignment - except that my partner was the equivalent of an invalid who refused to move a muscle.

"Off you go now. You've got till the end of this lesson to make a mess and clear it up otherwise nobody is leaving this classroom!"

Every single pair in the classroom bolted out of their seats and bagged their area, claiming the best work stations at the front of the class that were equipped with newer, granite ovens. That left Tyler and I at the furthest end of the spectrum, right at the very back - not that either of us was making the effort to get out of our seats anyway.

"Chop chop, class!" Ms Smith's steel-grey eyes scanned the classroom. "Ashley! Tyler! What are you waiting for? The next presidential election? Get out of your seats, now!"

After pinching the bridge of my nose to contain a scream of frustration, I hauled myself out of my chair and trudged over to other side of the room, ignoring the curious glances from my peers.

Our monstrous teacher yelled, "Tyler!"

Eventually he stood up, grabbed his bag and strode over to Ms Smith. The volume of the class dwindled to hushed whispers, everybody eager to see what Tyler was going to do next.

"I'm not working with her," He growled, leaning threateningly towards Ms Smith, before spinning around to glare at me, his sea-green eyes seething with hatred.

I gawked at him, feeling my chest contract hard enough to make the air in my lungs rush out as if someone was squeezing me like an empty plastic bottle. Tyler continued to glare at me and the heat from his glower made me want to cower away inside the burning oven because that temperature was most probably a fraction cooler than his death glare.

And then he walked out.

The entire classroom watched in shock when the door slammed shut before they swivelled around to face me, pitiful smiles shoved my way like free coupons as a restaurant. I ignored Michelle's complacent smile before hiding behind my hair.

My cheeks burned as I started gathering equipment from the bottom drawers, praying that the ground would open up and swallow me alive.

I was definitely going to fail this assignment - with or without Tyler's help.

**

I don't know how I made it through that lesson, but I did, and it was hell. Blake and Mona offered to work me but Ms Smith snapped at them the moment they came over to help me.

After class Mona went on a fully raged rant about how much of a jackass Tyler was being but I couldn't concentrate on her words; all I could see was the hatred his eyes held when they met mine.

"He needs to pull his head out of his ass and just make the effort. It's not like it's going to kill him to try!"

I positioned my bag on my other shoulder and hastily tightened my hair into a ponytail. Mona scoffed at my lack of response.

"Where's Blake when you need him? He knows Tyler better than me, I mean, they were best buddies once," She muttered hotly, looking around the corridors.

I could almost imagine Blake grimacing at the reminder that Tyler used to his best friend. The two of them, paired with the notorious Dylan Crossway were an inseparable trio back when Taylor was alive, but after the massive fight at their most important soccer match, Tyler and Dylan pounded each other to a pulp and Blake was caught between his two best friends. He remained neutral and helped pry his friends apart but after that day, Tyler began the descent from his perfect life and cut off all his friends: including Blake.

Of course, Blake refused to give up on his best friend during his time of need, but Tyler made it clear that he wanted nothing to do him last year.

Despite the tension between me and Tyler, even I made an attempt to get through to him, following him around from class to class, begging him to talk to me.

But all Blake and I ever received from the blond haired guy was a cold shoulder. Our last attempt at breaking his shell was after the stunt Tyler pulled on the first anniversary of his sister's death; and that didn't go down too well.

In addition to Tyler's seclusion from everybody, a gaping hole remained between Mona and I after Taylor passed away. We fought all the time and I couldn't deal with her constant tears just like she couldn't take my abrupt mood swings.

Blake managed to eradicate the strain between us after detaching himself from Dylan, the rest of the soccer clique and Michelle's group who always trailed after the soccer team.

"You know they have a tough season ahead of them so he can't miss a single practice," I reminded Mona, meeting her chocolate brown eyes with an eye roll.

She was perfectly aware that Blake had left us straight after class for soccer practice but not before he lightly squeezed my shoulder and asked if I was okay. He even offered to drive me home and skip practice but we both knew that wasn't an option since Coach Webber would have castrated him.

"Yeah well maybe he'd be able to explain to me why that jerk is making your life so hard!" Mona snapped, flicking her eyes up to me as we stopped by her locker.

"I know he's a total douche but he's only acting like that because of what I said to him yesterday," I blurted out as she turned the dial, causing her to freeze mid-way.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek before pursing my lips at her questioning look.

"Tyler heard me say...unpleasant things about him when I was pissed off with Ms Smith for pairing me with him," I admitted shamefully, wishing my hair wasn't in a ponytail so I could hide behind it.

Mona dumped her books and slammed the door shut, giving me flat look as if my confession didn't cut a valid excuse for Tyler's behaviour.

"So? That's doesn't give him the right to act like a total ass!"

I shook my head at her as we started walking towards the parking lot to her car. On the way, we stopped by my bike. Unchaining it, I told her about everything that had happened after class and at the cemetery yesterday.

"Okay, so what? You were having a bad day but don't we all? He's overreacting and using it as an excuse to act like more of a moron than he already is!"

Although her voice seethed with fury, her brown eyes carried traces of uncertainty. I mean, it's not like she could defend my side when I was the one who had stepped over the line. I understood that I was in the wrong but that didn't give him the green lights to make my life a misery.

"I guess you're right," I mumbled thoughtfully, stepping away from her convertible.

Leaving Mona in the parking lot, I strapped on my helmet and began the long cycle home, spending the entire journey reassuring myself that there was no reason for me to feel guilty when Tyler was acting like a total jerk. It was just in his nature to be hateful, rude and inconsiderate. That was who he was now - it was in his genetic makeup to be a spiteful ass.

I mean, Tyler wasn't exactly the victim he was making himself out to be so why should I feel remorseful and ashamed?

But I did.

Deep down I felt terrible and it was devouring me from the inside, gnawing on my insides like a pesky rodent. I knew I had to do something, but I didn't know what.