Beautifully Broken Read Online Free

bedroom. I rolled over onto my side
and stared at my small cozy abode. I hadn't changed it, not once in the eight
years that I had been living here.
     
    My small white wooden desk
still sat in the far corner by my closet door. My bulletin board had grown in
size over the last eight years, and now took up half of the pink wall across
from my door. I still slept in my full size bed, with quilt made by my mother
when I was only two years old. Across from my bed stood my eight drawer
mahogany dresser, cluttered with pictures of me and my parents, and me and
Gray. I rolled over a bit more staring at the small, framed picture on my
matching nightstand. It was a small picture of my mom and dad when I was first
born. They were staring into each other’s eyes with more love than I have ever
known or felt in my life.
     
    My dad was holding me in his
right arm, with his other arm wrapped tightly around my mother's waist. As I
ran my finger across the picture a stray tear fell onto my pillow. I missed
them dearly and my heart was yearning to feel their touch. I carefully set the
picture back down sliding myself up against my headboard. I sat staring blankly
out the window when I heard voices coming from the kitchen. This was an unusual
occurrence, given the fact that my kitchen only ever housed Gray and myself
since my parents died.
     
    I pushed myself up off my
bed and lazily walk towards the voices and clattering sounds. I stopped dead in
my tracks when I spotted Gray and his mother in my kitchen, cooking dinner. The
picture playing out before me came off as odd. Gray and his mom hadn’t been
getting along since he made the decision to go into the police academy this
fall. As if hearing my inner thoughts, they both turned to stare at my shock-ridden
face.
     
    “Well Dear, don't just stand
there. Come sit at the table while Gray and I finish making dinner.” His mother
crooned. Her sleek copper brown bob swayed as she walked towards me.
     
    “I'm a little confused.” I said,
as I let her lead me to the dining room table. I sat back watching as Mrs.
Weston moved gracefully around my kitchen, just like my mother used to. I
smiled at the memory of my mother.
     
    “Gray told me you two had
quite the day today, it was his idea.” She whispered the last part in my ear as
she set the French bread on the table. The aroma of oregano, basil, tomatoes
and garlic pleasantly tickled my nose. It suddenly dawned on me, I hadn't eaten
all day, and I was mouthwateringly hungry.
     
    “It smells great Mrs.
Weston, but really you didn't have to do this, I manage just fine.” I tried to
stifle a yawn.
     
    “Call me Reagan Dear. Mrs.
Weston was Daniel’s mother you know that. Like I told you, Gray here is the one
who has done everything, I just cut the bread.” She gave me a whimsical smile
and went to search for glasses in the cupboard.
     
    “They’re in the cabinet
above the stove.” I said, waiving my hand in that general direction. I nestled
into the chair at the small glass dining room table, staring at Gray and his
mother as they interacted with one another. I had forgotten how much he and his
mother looked alike. Gray inherited almost all of his looks from his mom. Her
electric blue eyes, and copper colored hair were identical to his.
     
    I admired his mother for all
that she had been through. After Gray’s dad died a few years back, she managed
to keep herself strong and composed. She never left Gray to fend for himself.
If anything, she showed even more love than any adolescent could imagine
needing.
     
    Gray’s father, Daniel died
in September of our junior year. Mr. Weston had been a homicide detective for
ten years before his shocking death. Mrs. Weston had never minded her husband’s
line of work; she was amazingly supportive of his sometimes-dangerous job. Of
course she worried, as any wife of a detective would, but he always seemed to
stay out of harms way.
     
    The day he died was the day
a piece of Mrs. Weston