Hi everyone!!  :DD Now that I've updated, I'm pretty sure my ranking will go down... So, please tell your friends about my story! Please? O.O I will <3 u forever!!! The picture at the side is that of Willow's memory... And please bear with me! It'll start to get interesting from Chapter 5, I promise!!!

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Update (9/1/16): Reading my author's notes back when I was merely 14 makes me cringe so badly

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The days go by right in front of my eyes, as if they are something intangible and all I could do is watch. Nothing worth noting happened but, then again, nothing ever has, and nothing ever will.

Before I know it, October has arrived. Halloween is looming upon us and nearly everyone I know is preparing in every way possible, be it making their costume or decorating or planning epic scares, for "the biggest party ever": the autumn formal.

I'm not interested. Why should I be? I have no reason to celebrate it. Halloween just makes me reminisce about the times my sister and I shared going trick-or-treating, the once enjoyable memory that had turned bitter, as have they all. I don't want those memories to come back haunting me.

But then again, who am I kidding?

They've been haunting me, ever since that tragic day.

I know people say that I should just move on and that I can't change the past and that time heals all wounds and all those so-called words of advice. But look at me now. Two years later and I'm still stuck in this endless loop of pain and memories. I've tried so, so hard but I can't seem to let it go.

What did I ever do to deserve a life like this?

"Willow tree, are you okay? You're spacing out again."

I give Gray a small smile, trying to hide the pain I feel inside. "Yeah, I'm alright. It's nothing to worry about," I reply, placing a hand on his back.

"Yeah, well, that's out of the question. I'm always worried about you."

I chuckle, glancing at him, only to find him already staring at me. His blue eyes light up as he smiles and he puts his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to him. I rest my head against his chest, feeling the familiar, rhythmic beat of his heart.

"You're going to be alright, Willow. Everything will work out in the end."

"Will it? My family aren't going to resurrect from the dead any time soon," I snap, rising to my feet and folding my arms, feeling distressed.

"Willow, come on. I know you don't want to hear this but you have to let it go. You need to move on. I want you to be happy," he says softly, standing up and wrapping his arms around me. "Please, Willow. If not for me, then for yourself."

I turn my back on him, walking out of his embrace, hot tears roll down my cheeks.

As much as I want to move on, I just can't. There are so many things that are left unresolved. I can't handle it. I keep it bottled in because this weight is mine alone to bear. This is my family, not theirs. It doesn't involve anyone else. I want to move on, to live a happier life, but at the same time, I don't want to let go because I feel like I owe at least that much to my family. I'm alive, but they're not. It's not fair.

"Come on. Willow?"

I shake my head forcefully. "Sorry, Gray. I can't talk about this now," I reply, my lips quivering. "Could you please leave?"

"Are you sure you'll be alright?"

I turn to look at him, furrowing my eyebrows in sorrow and anger. "Yes, Gray. I appreciate you being here but I really need to be alone right now."

He nods. "I understand."

He walks up to me, placing a hand on my shoulder and starts massaging it. I close my eyes, trying to release the tension in there, trying to relax.

But I can't.

"Thank you, Gray," I whisper.

"Sleep well, okay?"

"I'll try."

"If there's anything, just call me."

I nod. "Okay," I mutter.

He sighs, rubbing my back comfortingly before pulling away. "Love you, Willow."

I give him a sad smile in reply.

I watch as he walks out the door, closing it silently behind him, and I'm left all alone in an empty apartment once again.

Just me and the ghost of my memories.

*

"Trick or treat, Willow!" my older sister, Jess, exclaimed, jumping out at me from behind the curtains in the living room as I walked past, startling me and making me jump.

"Hey! Don't do that," I replied, frowning.

"Oh, don't be such a big baby, Wil. Grow up."

"Don't be so mean, Jess."

She chuckled. "I'm just teasing you and you know that, Wil," she answered affectionately.

"Yeah, I do. But that doesn't mean I like it," I answered, crossing my arms, trying to seem firm, my eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.

She let out a light hearted laugh and extended a hand. "Shall we go and get changed? Everyone else is going to go trick-or-treating without us if we don't hurry."

I nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! I get to be a pink fairy this year."

"And I get to be a witch."

"It's going to be so much fun!"

Jess looked at me and her face broke into a smile. "Anything can be. As long as we're together."

"Of course we will be. We're sisters."

She nodded. "And sisters will be there for each other forever."

*

"I miss you, Jess," I mutter, a tear falling down my face. "I miss all of you."

When did my life become such a mess? Why am I caught up in all this turmoil and loss and grief? Why am I the unlucky one?

Why me?

But I suppose any sane person would ask that question when something bad happens to them, right?

Why me?

I get that life is not a bed of roses and that we're all bound to hit potholes at some point but why does it had to be now? Why couldn't I have grown up like any other kid my age and not have to go through all this?

It created a void in my heart, an emptiness that can no longer be filled. Family is the most important, and now that they're gone, I feel numb. Like things aren't quite the way they're supposed to be.

Like I'm missing a vital part of my soul.

Gray really helped me get out of my rut. I was in such a bad place after the accident and my mind was going to very, very dark places and if it weren't for him, I doubt I'd be here today.

He really helped me, and I'm glad that there's at least one person for me to lean on.

I need to stop relying on him and start relying on myself, but I'm not sure where to start.

I let out an exhausted sigh, my shoulders sagging, carrying the baggage of the past and things I can't seem to move on from, no matter how hard I try. I get to my feet, walking from the lounge to the bathroom, where I grab a white cup from the over sink cabinet and fill it with cold water before into the back room — my 'art' room — closing the door quietly behind me, feeling the itch to create. I need to draw or paint or sketch.

It's my way of expressing myself, of clearing my head.

It's my way of relieving all the memories, hoping to paint them away and maybe, slowly, let go, and I wish i can say they've been working, but they really haven't.

I head towards my easel set up by the window, picking up a brush in the plastic cup on the small table to the left of the easel, placing the cup of water in my hand on the tabletop and squirting some paint onto a stained palette, clearly used a lot over time.

I take in a huge breath of air, dip the brush in the water, coat in blue paint and put brush to paper, letting my instincts take over.

Painting is the single most calming thing to me. It's the one thing that can make me feel at peace and forget about the troubles of the world.

It's an escape.

I don't think when I do art. I let my hand draw, moving seamlessly across the page, feeling the picture rather than thinking about it. It's so ingrained in me, like second nature. It's hard to explain, but I think it's just something that comes from passion and a lot of practice.

My mind wanders as I paint, imagining certain moments in nature, capturing them in my mind. Art is all about seeing things in different perspectives, catching the moments that stand out. Aesthetics, melancholy, beauty, nostalgia.

Ironic, isn't it, considering I can't seem to get out of a certain mindset.

I draw the last line and lift the brush off the paper, stepping back to see the finished work. It's a sunset by the beach, with the silhouette of a family by the shore, the two kids running on the sand and the parents walking behind, arms around each others waists.

That one particular April evening, when Dad spontaneously decided to bring all of us on a road trip.

I close my eyes, hoping to shut out the memory, but to no avail. Tears start pooling in my eyes and I desperately wipe them away with the back of my hand.

No, Willow. This is not the time to cry. There is no point crying over what is gone. There's no point crying over what you'll never have. I've got to stop crying every time I think of them.

I chew on my lower lip, approaching the easel once more and tearing the paper off the pad, laying it by the larger table pushed against the wall on the right side of the room to let it dry, before taking a look around the room.

It's both my sanctuary and my hole of self pity.

A means for it to stop but at the same time, the one place I cannot help but think about my family. After all, I started painting because of them, because when I brought home a drawing from preschool one day, they complimented me and said that I was talented.

I know it's practically obligatory for parents to say that their young kid's drawings are beautiful, but that simple comment developed my immense love towards art today and that's why I will always remember them every time I paint.

I draw, because I want to make them happy.

Even now.

Pieces of half finished and completed paintings and sketches, along with all my supplies — brushes, pencils, pens, markers, paint pods, among others — and sketchbooks are scattered all across the room, filling up nearly every surface in the room.

It's messy, yes, but I wouldn't want it any other way. It's a work in progress, you could say.

Suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the emotions in this room, I exit and make a beeline towards my bedroom, slamming the door shut behind me, throwing myself onto my bed and staring blankly at the ceiling above, memories still flooding my mind.

I sigh, forcing all of it out of my mind.

There's no point dwelling over them.

I should live in the moment, as Gray always tells me.

It's bittersweet, really, how we met, that one fateful day. The day of the accident, the day I lost it all. But also the day I found the one person who, essentially, saved my life. I guess you could say that.

My life is a mess, isn't it?

A mess I really wish I could sort out. I just want the grief to stop and start living my life the way a normal person would. I know my family wouldn't want me to continually mourn over them. I know they'd want me to move on and to make the most out of my life. They'd want me to be happy.

But how can I do that?

But how do you move on from the people you hold most dear to your heart?

___

Update (06/17): Just a quick reminder, this is the end of the Tapas version of UGWT. From here on out, the chapters will be the first draft version. If you want to read the rest of the edited version of UGWT, head on over to the Tapas app (Android and iOS, and also available on web at tapas.io). Just search Under the Gray Willow Tree by Angie Tan. Cheers!