#choices the haunting of braidwoodmanor

[darley1101]

Missing Pieces (The Haunting of Braidwood Manor)

Title: Missing Pieces

Book: The Haunting of Braidwood Manner

Character: Hannah/MC with mention of the Waverly family and a few Freshmen characters

Rating: PG-13

Warning/Trigger: Mourning, loss. 

A/N: This goes out to @kennaxval and @strangerofbraidwood . Tags are at the end of the story. If you would like to be added, moved, or removed please let me know. If you enjoyed the story please consider giving it a re-blog so others might enjoy it as well.

Turning up the collar of her cream colored wool coat, Hannah hurried down the crowded sidewalk towards the little flower shop on the corner. It had taken some smooth talking, along with the promise of a glowing online review, but the owner had come through for her. “Be right there,” a frail voice called out when Hannah tumbled into the little shop. A few minutes later a petite elderly woman with owl like eyes and a white top knot appeared from behind a curtain, a smile on her wizened face. “How might I help you?”

“I placed an order for Hannah.” Tucking her lips between her teeth, Hannah waited with baited breathe. 'Please don't have sold my flowers, I know its Valentine's Day and I'm late getting here but those flowers are important,' she thought, her heart constricting at the thought. The recipients wouldn't know whether she brought a single flower or a full dozen each but Hannah would know. She'd made a promise to herself and come hell or high water she would honor it.

“Ah yes!” The elfin lady's face lit up. “Five dozen red roses. I have them in the back.” Without another word, she ducked behind the curtain. Moments later she returned, five beautifully arranged bouquets carefully set upright in a wooden crate. “Thought this might make it easier for you,” she beamed. “Must some very important people for you go through all this trouble.”

“The most important.” Emotion constricted her throat. It never got easier. Someone had told her that it would but they had lied. 'Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry,' she silently chanted as she handed over her credit card. Two hundred and fifty dollars on flowers would hurt, and she would be paying on them for months, but they were the only thing she could do for the people she loved. In an ideal world she would have been able to select the perfect gifts and enjoy the excitement on their faces when they opened them, but Hannah had learned and accepted that there was nothing ideal about the world in which she lived. It was a cruel, lonely place.

The florist offered her a gentle smile, her gnarled fingers raising in a quick goodbye when Hannah hoisted the crate into her arms. “Do come back.”

Hannah murmured that she would before ducking her head and carrying her crate of flowers out the door. The quiet, gravity of how she was spending Valentine's Day weighed on her as she made her way towards the older Toyota she had purchased with a prayer and a thousand bucks Victor had loaned her. She carefully set the crate in the passenger seat, wincing when she glanced at the time on the dash. There was only two hours before her shift at the coffee shop. Her heart screamed that it wasn't nearly enough time while her mind reminded her it was the perfect amount of time. It wasn't good to dwell where she was headed.

Saint Michael's looked the way it always did. A picturesque cathedral that looked cozy despite its size, and air of welcome about the cemetery tucked next to it. Sniffing and then clearing her throat, Hannah gently gathered one of the bouquets in the crook of her arm. She murmured a greeting to the groundskeeper and Widow Harrington before focusing on the headstone to the left of the statue of Saint Michael himself. “Happy Valentine's Day Jonathon,” she said softly, crouching before the marble slab that was etched with her brother's basic information. Birth. Death. Loving Brother and Son. And only a dash to represent the life he had lived. “I know, red roses on Valentine's Day is so contrived but hey, I wouldn't be your annoying little sister if I didn't intentionally do things to piss you off.” She squeezed her eyes shut, willing to the tears to disappear. It was a useless plea. The salty drops were already running down her cheeks. “Your friend Zig put in an application at the coffee shop,” she whispered. Crouching, she placed the bouquet in the urn attached to the headstone. “I told him I would put in a good word for him. He was always nice. A little hot headed at times but nice.” Her fingers shook as she fluffed out the arrangement, shifting the stems until they looked the way she wanted. “I'm supposed to hang out with this girl Kaitlin and her roommates after work tonight. We're going to try to make it to the midnight release of that new wizard movie. It's more your kind of movie then mine but...I told you I would try and I'm trying.” Taking a deep breathe, she laid her palm across his name. “I love you Jonathon, and I miss you more and more each day.” She blinked back several tears and let out another huff of air. “Don't forget to look after Eleanor, Thomas, Clarissa, and Simon for me. They're our family now too.”

Clearing her throat, Hannah stood and hurried back towards her car. There were those who thought she was crazy for wanting to spend Valentine's Day wandering from cemetery to cemetery, leaving expensive flowers that would wilt and die. What they thought didn't matter. Valentine's Day was supposed to be about love, about reminding people how important they were and even if it didn't make sense to anyone else, what she was doing made sense to her. During the thirty minute drive to Braidwood Manor she went over the things she wanted to tell the Waverly's. She'd uncovered so many things that they would have wanted to know and it sucked that she couldn't actually tell them. On New Year's she'd tried. She'd let herself be conned by some gypsy who swore they could commune with the dead. Hannah might have bought into it if the woman hadn't gone into some spiel about their peaceful deaths. Murder and suicide were never peaceful. 'Stop thinking about that,' Hannah ordered, blinking back tears as she turned her car off the main road and onto the seldom traveled lane would take her to the family cemetery where Eleanor and her siblings were buried. 'Remember your promise. You're only going to focus on the good.'

“Happy Valentine's Day,” she called out, her voice echoing in the woods that surrounded the small plot. “I tried to get a different color for each of you but the florist was only able to promise red, so...I'm sorry Thomas but you're going to have to get over having the same as Simon.” She walked around the car to retrieve the crate from the passenger seat. “I have some news that will make you smile Clarissa but first...” Hannah stopped in front of the first of four identical headstones. Eleanor Waverly. She dropped to her knees and traced the name with the tip of her finger. 'I should have said yes,' she silently sobbed,' when you offered to stay I should have been selfish and said yes.' It had seemed too good to be true, nobody got a second chance at life. Or did they? Hannah found herself questioning that more and more. She'd read some things, met some people, specifically an Egyption antiquities dealer named Kamilah and her  girlfriend/assistant Lily, that made her think maybe there was more to life after death than, well, death. “I discovered something you would find interesting. There's a Waverly Hall at Hartfeld. I had forgotten all about it because I'm not an English major. I did a little digging and it turns out the funds to build it were donated by your father! Since you...none of you...had the opportunity to attend college he had a hall built in your honor. There's even a plaque with your names on it.” Shifting slightly, she reached for a bouquet and laid it at the base of the headstone. “I wish I could give you these in person. I mean, if you were here I probably would have done something a little more personal like baked a cake or made your favorite dinner.” She paused, closing her eyes. “I should have told you that I loved you,” she murmured. “I should have been brave, like you, and just...” She shook her head. There was no use in dwelling on what she could not change.

“Clarissa,” she choked out, scooting on to the next head stone. “I found out the most fascinating thing. Do you remember that boy you were telling me about? The one you had a mad crush on but never had the chance to tell?” Reaching back, Hannah dragged the crate towards her. “I think he might have a crush on you as well because...” smiling sadly, she placed another bouquet near Clarissa's headstone, “...he had a daughter named Clarissa. I tried to find out more information, like did any of his ancestors know how his wife and him came about that name...and in the process I got to actually meet your namesake! She's an elementry school teacher in Northbridge. She says her father named her after a dear friend of his that died too soon. He didn't forget you Clarissa. He made sure you were remembered.” As she had done with Eleanor's, she traced Clarissa's name, her heart tightening with each letter. Her hand fell away and she made herself move on to the next headstone. Thomas.

“I'm not sure if you heard me telling Eleanor about Waverly Hall at Hartfeld, but that isn't the only memorial on campus. My friend Kaitlin is a music major and every day she practices piano in the Thomas Waverly room. Your father did that for you...just you.” The crate was almost empty, save for the two bouquets for the boys. It hurt to pull out the flowers, to lay them in the dirt that covered where Thomas's body rest. “When I found that out I had to tell her about you. What an amazing musician you were and how you probably would have become famous if you hadn't died so young.” It was hard to say what Thomas's musical future would have been but Hannah liked to think he would have become a household name. “And Simon,” she forced herself to lay the last of the flowers against his headstone, “I found your insect collection in our science department. College students marvel over it and the fact that it was built by someone so young makes it even more awe inspiring.”

Rising to her feet, Hannah struggled against the sob tightening her throat. She had known this would be hard, had thought she was prepared for the onslaught of emotions, but like so many times before she'd been wrong. “I miss you,” she whispered, her eyes welling with a fresh onslaught of tears. “I miss you more than you could possibly know.” Sniffling, she took a deep breathe and let her eyes wander from headstone to headstone. “I...I have to go now but I promise I'll be back soon.” She took a shuddering breathe, whispered her love once more, and then made her way back to the car. If she hurried, she would just make it to work on time and then after..after she would try to pretend her heart wasn't shattered in a million pieces. 'Who knows,' an all to familiar voice whispered on the wind, 'maybe you'll find love again.'

[bobasheebaby]

Why? Dear god why?! This hurts so much! It’s beautiful but it hurts!

Missing Pieces (The Haunting of Braidwood Manor)

Title: Missing Pieces

Book: The Haunting of Braidwood Manner

Character: Hannah/MC with mention of the Waverly family and a few Freshmen characters

Rating: PG-13

Warning/Trigger: Mourning, loss. 

A/N: This goes out to @kennaxval and @strangerofbraidwood . Tags are at the end of the story. If you would like to be added, moved, or removed please let me know. If you enjoyed the story please consider giving it a re-blog so others might enjoy it as well.

Turning up the collar of her cream colored wool coat, Hannah hurried down the crowded sidewalk towards the little flower shop on the corner. It had taken some smooth talking, along with the promise of a glowing online review, but the owner had come through for her. “Be right there,” a frail voice called out when Hannah tumbled into the little shop. A few minutes later a petite elderly woman with owl like eyes and a white top knot appeared from behind a curtain, a smile on her wizened face. “How might I help you?”

“I placed an order for Hannah.” Tucking her lips between her teeth, Hannah waited with baited breathe. ‘Please don’t have sold my flowers, I know its Valentine’s Day and I’m late getting here but those flowers are important,’ she thought, her heart constricting at the thought. The recipients wouldn’t know whether she brought a single flower or a full dozen each but Hannah would know. She’d made a promise to herself and come hell or high water she would honor it.

“Ah yes!” The elfin lady’s face lit up. “Five dozen red roses. I have them in the back.” Without another word, she ducked behind the curtain. Moments later she returned, five beautifully arranged bouquets carefully set upright in a wooden crate. “Thought this might make it easier for you,” she beamed. “Must some very important people for you go through all this trouble.”

“The most important.” Emotion constricted her throat. It never got easier. Someone had told her that it would but they had lied. 'Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry,’ she silently chanted as she handed over her credit card. Two hundred and fifty dollars on flowers would hurt, and she would be paying on them for months, but they were the only thing she could do for the people she loved. In an ideal world she would have been able to select the perfect gifts and enjoy the excitement on their faces when they opened them, but Hannah had learned and accepted that there was nothing ideal about the world in which she lived. It was a cruel, lonely place.

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