Eight Weeks (Unfrozen Four Book 2)

“I always thought I would sink, so I never swam”—Malibu by Miley Cyrus

My hands are shaking as I stand in front of the house. The same one I ran away from years ago.

I promised myself I would face it. My fears. My past.

I want the future I’ve been promised. I want to grow old with Aaron, marry him in a couple of years and start a family. I want all this, but I know I will never have it if I cannot face what I ran away from first.

It’s easy staying in a city that seems to only have your walls cave in, at least when there is one thing that keeps you there. But I don’t want to be a burden to Aaron in the future.

For now, it’s fine. I can breathe without feeling like I am choking on air. But what will happen in ten years? What will happen in a few years, when I find out the only grandmother I have left has passed away?

Once she is dead, I will never find closure. I will never get answers to questions I’m not sure I have. Maybe one, but even just one question can change a person’s whole view on the world.

I refuse to promise Aaron forever when I cannot even promise myself not to run away when going gets tough.

Taking a deep breath, I lift my fist to knock but somehow my stupid knuckles just won’t touch the wood to make a sound. And when I try to ring the doorbell, my finger refuses to hit the button.

I am supposed to be at my boyfriend’s hockey game in two hours. If I keep standing here not doing anything, I won’t be anywhere near his game in time.

Suck it up, Sofia.

“Easier said than done.” Great, and now I am talking to myself.

Not having knocked yet, my breath gets lost in my lungs when the front door suddenly opens and an elderly woman with grey hair looks up at me.

She looks a little lost, her eyes moving from left to right, up and down trying to place me anywhere.

“Sofia…” My grandma brings a shaking hand to her mouth, covering it. “Oh, dear.”

Her eyes begin to water, an unknown pain stabbing me right in the heart at the sight.

“Come in, dearest, please.” She steps aside, a little wobbly on her feet but she has always been ever since I can remember.

I shake my head a little too automatically. Standing outside of the house it all happened is one thing but entering is a whole other topic.

“I’d rather not.” Does that seem mean? I hope not. My grandmother must understand that standing here is probably the hardest thing I have done in almost a decade. Apart from, you know, killing my grandfather. Though, maybe that was less difficult as I didn’t intent to murder him.

“You came all this way, Sofia.” More or less a long one considering that I am currently a student at St. Trewery University, but she doesn’t know that. “Please, do come inside. I won’t bite you, dear.”

I mean, there is still a chance that she hates me and only wants me to come inside to poison me and watch me die, but sure.

She wouldn’t do that, right? She is my grandma still, even after what I have done.

“Alright.”

One tiny step at a time, I walk into the house, breathing in the familiar scent of home and love I was met with whenever we came to visit when I was younger.

The house hasn’t changed much. The half cupboard in the corridor still has the same dent it always had. Not always, but from whenever I was six years old, and my brother and I decided to play hide and seek in the dark. I ended up walking into the coatrack, which then fell and put a dent into the wood of the half cupboard.

I wasn’t in trouble for it, despite thinking I’d get the beating of my life.

The walls are covered with pictures of my siblings and I, my cousins and aunt and uncles, even pictures of my father when he was younger, or my parents’ wedding day.

And then there are a few family photos with my grandpa. As much as I want to look at them, I can’t bring myself to do it, so I walk past them a little quicker.

I follow my grandma into the living room, closing my eyes as I have to walk past the stairs. She must have noticed because when my eyes open again, she smiles at me a little, but at least she doesn’t comment on it.

When she sits, my grandma gestures for me to do the same. For once I do without hesitating. Being turned away from the stairs will at least give me some peace. Not a lot, but a little, maybe? It will keep me from bursting into tears any second.

Or maybe not, we’ll see.

“Can I get you a glass of water, Sofia, dearest?” I shake my head, doubting I could down anything right now. “Alright. So tell me, how have you been? You haven’t come to visit much in the last couple of years, I was wondering when I’d see you again.”

Come to visit? I didn’t even speak to her in years all because I felt too guilty to do so.

Even now I am not sure if I should tell my grandmother all about me when I came here for closure. Or at least trying to understand why my family hasn’t abandoned me yet.

So, instead of answering the question I’ve been asked, I say, “Are you not in the slightest mad at me?”