Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 150968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
After the Christmas party, I remember being filled with so much anger and hatred. I screamed at how unfair it was; I questioned God or whatever High Power was listening to me. I felt betrayed by destiny and I became hostile.
“God is merciful, and we believe that He pardons those who are truly asking for forgiveness. So, if He can forgive us, then we should be able to forgive ourselves.”
While I had been so angry at my situation…
Maryam was seeking comfort in her faith.
I was filled with so much self-loathing and resentment, and Maryam was reconciling with herself, coming to peace with her situation.
“How?” I whisper. “How do we forgive ourselves?”
Dr. Bailey said the same thing. To accept, to forgive and to let go of self-resentment. She said those three things were essential in our healing process, so that we can move on.
But, how?
How do I accept that none of this was my fault?
How do I forgive myself for mistakes that were beyond my control?
And how do I let go of all this self-loathing that seems to manipulate my every breath?
“I don’t know,” Maryam whispers, her eyes focused on her canvas. “But sometimes, it’s not just about forgiveness. It’s about acceptance.”
We both fall quiet again, a thoughtful silence spreading between us. Maryam keeps on painting, while I stare at my empty canvas. Finally, I dip my brush into black paint.
I don’t know how long it’s been, but everything I tried to paint didn’t feel right. So I kept painting over it with black paint. I tried flowers, grass, the moon, the starry skies…
Except nothing felt right.
The others are done with their artwork.
But I am left with only an empty, black canvas.
Maryam touches my elbow, and my eyes flicker to her easel, which she turns toward me so I can see her finished canvas. “I’m not sure, but I think if we believe in new beginnings, then it might become easier to move on,” she tells me softly.
She has painted the sunrise over a lake and the colors are vibrant and exquisite. Warm and breathtaking. A new beginning.
“Maryam,” I breathe, my voice shaking.
I finally understand what she’s been trying to say. The warmth of her sunrise leaves seeds of hope in my withered heart. I know exactly what to paint now.
Everyone takes their finished canvas and head back inside.
I stay, and finally…I dip my brush into something other than black paint. By the time I’m done, my shoulders ache, but a ghost of a smile finds its way onto my lips.
A butterfly is spread across my canvas.
Monarch butterflies represent strength and endurance. Transformation and evolution.
A new beginning.
My new beginning.
Riley Johnson is not perfect.
And I refuse to be the dead sparrow.
I am the Monarch butterfly — free and reborn.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Grayson — 16 years old (Sophomore year)
I never thought of myself as a stalker.
I mean, they did send me an invitation. So why am I standing here, outside the restaurant, looking on at them like some kind of pathetic stalker?
Honestly, I don’t know.
It’s been a year since I’ve last seen my sister.
What am I supposed to say to her? Do I hug her? Will she still recognize me? Will she run to me when she sees me? Am I still the slayer of dragons…or has her adopted father taken on that role now?
I know I shouldn’t be jealous of a grown-ass adult, who probably loves Naomi as much as I do, but damn — I’m envious that they get to watch her grow, they get to be with her, when I can’t do the same.
Mikael and Rehya have kept their promises, sending me photos of Naomi over the last few months. Today is the first time I’ve received an invitation to come see her.
On her birthday.
Exactly a year after.
But a lot has changed in a year.
She’s changed. Naomi is taller, and her curly, thick hair is longer. Her eyes are bluer, which I thought was impossible, but they really are a brighter blue.
And she talks now.
Not a lot, not frequently…but she talks.
Naomi has a speech impediment — she stutters. Mikael and Rehya have put her through speech therapy, but nonetheless, she’s happy in her life now. She’s a bright, smart and beautiful little princess, who has everything she deserves.
Good memories and proud parents.
I have changed. Somehow.
Though if someone was to ask me how I’ve changed, I wouldn’t have an answer.
I’m not Grayson Avery anymore. Benjamin and Naveah Hale legally adopted me two months ago. I can still vividly remember the proud smile on their faces once the papers were finalized.
I am Grayson Hale now.
Uncle Ben says I’ve always been a Hale — that I’ve always been a part of them.
Except, it has taken me sixteen years to get here. Some days, I still feel like I don’t belong anywhere. Sometimes, I still feel lost — just a body wandering around, waiting for another shitstorm. But that’s why Uncle Ben has sent me to therapy, which I go to routinely.