painful secrets

Emelie was white as a sheet. Her eyes travelled to the letter for the millionth time.

Dear Miss Emelie Foss,
We regret to tell you that at 6.24 this morning, Mrs Viviane Foss passed away. It was too late to act.
We are sorry for your loss.

She sniffed loudly. Now, what would she do? Her sister was already taken. Fostered. No more 'I love you, Emmy' at bedtime, no more little girl curling up to her at night. No more. She'd lost two people in one day. It was too much for the thirteen year old.

Emelie had no one. She was all alone. Her entire family was gone. The girl's tears had all been swallowed up since she was five. Emelie didn't cry.

But now was different. Hot tears were streaming down her pale face. Her entire body was shaking, as she crumpled up the letter, and threw in on the ground. She was alone, so now she could just cry.

Emelie's small body curled up on the floor, the tears coming faster. She sobbed loudly. Her arms went around herself, and she remembered her grandmother's warm and safe touch. Her hands stroking her blonde hair, telling her it would work out.

But it never did.

Emelie sniffed, stroking her own hair, singing softly to herself, voice choked up.

"P-please stay, don't g-go," she sang softly. "Please stay. I l-loved you be-before.."

She trailed off, sitting up. "R-rest in peace, Gran. Emmy loves you. Forever. I w-won't for-forget you."

And with that, Emelie collapsed on the ground, sobbing loudly.