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Book online Ā«Angel Breath by Racquel Kechagias (read along books .TXT) šŸ“–Ā». Author Racquel Kechagias



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to her fatherā€™s memory and nothing would sweep her away from the reality of what today meant.

 

It wasnā€™t long until Isabelle found herself walking into the little church beside the old graveyard. She could feel her eyes filling with tears again and she was grateful that she put on waterproof eyeliner; she knew if she hadnā€™t she would look like a raccoon otherwise. The service was a small event, with a small group of her fatherā€™s closest friends, people she hardly even knew. She could feel herself - her fatherā€™s only family member present ā€“ about to cry as she got up to say her piece on her fatherā€™s memory. She could feel her tears falling over as she looked down at all the stoic faces and then she spoke.

 

ā€œMy father was a good man. He was dedicated to his work and to his family. I have never known a braver man, never known anyone he was more good at heart. Iā€™ll miss him and Iā€™ll never forget him.ā€ Isabelle said, looking down onto her fatherā€™s coffin. She had requested that the coffin be closed, she couldnā€™t handle seeing her father like that and she only now realized how right she had been in making that choice.

 

Isabelle made her way back to her seat after placing her black and white roses on top of her fatherā€™s coffin and she watched as everyone brought the flowers ā€“ either a black or white roses ā€“ to her fatherā€™s coffin. She could finally feel her tears flowing even more freely as she watched them say their goodbyes and she reminisced on all the memoryā€™s she had with her father as the odd thirty people came to the front of the room.

 

The odd thirty people slowly filed out of the church. Isabelle hadnā€™t planned for a reception party after the funeral and so there wasnā€™t to be one but she knew that they were going to watch the coffin be lowered into the ground and so Isabelle stood up to watch the coffin lowering as well. That in itself was a great feat for her to accomplish today and she gave a small sarcastic grin before it dropped from her mouth and vanishing to God knows where. It wasnā€™t long before the coffin was lowered into the ground. Isabelle knew that when she looked back onto this day that it would simply be a blur in her mind as it already felt as if everything she was doing was robotic. She stood over the grave looking at nothing as the people gathered left, not stopping to give the grieving girl their condolences. Isabelle didnā€™t notice as the raven haired boy stepped out of the shadows of a nearby tree on the other side of the grave before making his way over to her.

 

ā€œHey, I just wanted to say that I liked what you said about your father.ā€ The raven haired boy said. Isabelle looked up into the pall face and she could see his dark amber eyes met her icy blue ones.

 

ā€œThanks; it seems like youā€™re the only one.ā€ Isabelle replied before letting out a breath of air that she hadnā€™t realized that she had been holding.

 

ā€œDonā€™t mention it. Iā€™m Ethan Valdez by the way.ā€ Ethan said giving Isabelle a huge smile as he offered her his hand. Isabelle accepted the hand he had offered her and they shook hands momentarily, Ethan held onto her hand for a moment before dropping it.

 

ā€œHow did you know my father?ā€ Isabelle asked, as she turned away from the grave of her father. She knew that she would be back soon, if not later today than tomorrow at least.

 

ā€œI used to work with your father. We usually got put on the same assignments. I learnt everything I know from Jonathan.ā€ Ethan replied, chuckling to himself at the true meaning behind his own words. Isabelle shook her head at the chuckling man ā€“ who appeared to be around her own age ā€“ before she started walking towards her car parked out on the street of the graveyard. Ethan followed after her and he quickly caught up to her even though she had gotten a few good miles away from him before he had started to follow.

 

ā€œSo what are you doing later this week? Would you like to go out for coffee or something?ā€ Ethan asked.  Iā€™m sure you would love that, Isabelle thought darkly before pushing the thought away. Sure he was a nice guy, and he was good looking chiseled enough to draw attention but not enormous like some of those gym junkies that had pursued her before.

 

ā€œSure; how about Friday?ā€ Isabelle suggested refusing to admit to herself how incredulous it was that she was accepting to go out on a date ā€“ was it a date? ā€“ on the day of her fatherā€™s funeral. She couldnā€™t help but be smitten by the lopsided smile that appeared on Ethanā€™s face when he realized that she had agreed.

 

ā€œOh Okay cool. So, Iā€™ll pick you up seven sharp?ā€ Ethan asked. Isabelle couldnā€™t help but smile at his failed attempt to ā€˜play it coolā€™. Ethan held open the small gate leading to the graveyard for Isabelle and she blushed slightly at his automatic gentlemanly behavior.

 

ā€œThis is my number,ā€ Isabelle said handing writing on the back of Ethanā€™s hand her mobile number. ā€œIā€™ll see you Friday then,ā€ Isabelle said before making her way over to her car. She couldnā€™t help smiling as she made her way home, her hope of a somewhat brighter future evident in her eyes and expression to any that paid her any attention.

 

The days leading up to Friday the thirteenth ā€“ of October ā€“ were spent in a haze of sappy love movies, boxes and boxes of Kleenex tissues and endless bottles of soda which included ā€˜Cokeā€™.  She knew that she was introverting towards herself; she knew that she did it enough without a reason on top of it, that it was a bad habit that she couldnā€™t break out of. She wasnā€™t like other girls her age, she wasnā€™t loud and she didnā€™t enjoy parties or nightclubs. Her best friends were her classical books and her ā€“ now deceased ā€“ father.

 

Friday came and Isabelle could feel her excitement welling up in her, the hours until seven ticked by slowly and yet her phone still did not ring. Isabelle fidgeted as the hour approached, she could imagine all the reasons why he hadnā€™t called. He might have even found someone else prettier and more outgoing to replace herself. Isabelle let out a frustrated sigh it was fifteen to seven and yet her phone had still not gone off. It was as this thought crossed her mind that it did, in fact, vibrate across the counter top, playing her favorite tune; Smooth Criminal, one of her favorite hitā€™s from the late 80ā€™s.

 

ā€œHello,ā€ Isabelle could hear her voice quiver, whether from fear or excitement she couldnā€™t be sure.

 

ā€œHi, Isabelle. Iā€™m really sorry about this but Iā€™m going to have to cancel, somethingā€™s come up at work and Iā€™m the only one that can attend to the job. Iā€™m really sorry, how about we have brunch tomorrow to make up for it?ā€  Ethanā€™s voice came through the other end of the phone, his voice crackling like static. Isabelle could have sworn that she heard strange noises on the other side of the line but she couldnā€™t be sure. What exactly had Ethan said he did for a living?

 

ā€œUm Sure, how about 9:30?ā€ Isabelle asked; feeling slightly embarrassed for all the conclusions that she had jumped to in her mind. Isabelle looked around her almost empty apartment. She needed to get out of the house whether it was with Ethan or without him; she simply needed to get out of this house that held the memories of her father in it.

 

ā€œGreat, Iā€™ll see you then; and Isabelle?ā€ Ethan said his voice evident with his smile and excitement. She knew that he was waiting for her to respond. Waiting for her to say something before he continued but she didnā€™t and he let out a sigh deep on so many levels but none of those levels made any sense to Isabelle. ā€œIā€™m really sorry about tonight, I wish I could but I simply canā€™t.ā€ Ethan said before the line went dead on his end.

 

Isabelle looked around the empty two bedroom apartment. They had moved here after the night of Xavierā€™s death five years ago. It had been small but it had been perfect for the two of them. Her father never brought any women home and Isabelle was silently thankful for that. True at that time she had been a legal adult and her father could have had anyone over if he had truly wanted to but he hadnā€™t and Isabelle was grateful that her father hadnā€™t tried to replace her mother, or attempted to bring another woman into their lives. Isabelle looked around the dining room/living room/ kitchen area ā€“ as they were one big combination ā€“ and could see the memories fluttering behind her eyelids, the memories creeping under her skin like poison, eating away at her bit by bit. She wish she could forget, she wish she could look around the room and see nothing, feel nothing but if she forgot, she knew that she would ā€“ in turn ā€“ forget her father; she could not allow her fatherā€™s memory to simply slip through her fingers, she would not forget him and thus she could not afford to forget the memories ripping her from limb to limb.

 

Isabelle quickly grabbed her coat and locked up the apartment behind her. She couldnā€™t stand being in the house alone and with the memories swarming around her, threatening to crash down upon her. Isabelle wiped at her eyes, brushing away any tears that threated to fall as she decided to walk instead of driving; knowing that the walk would clear her mind.

 

The lights and sounds of Camden distracted her; even the people that passed her by distracted her from the thoughts, the memories that swirled in her mind. She could see their smiling faces as the couples passed by and Isabelle longed for what they had; somebody to be close to,  somebody to love and love her in return but the only people that she had ever loved and been loved by in return were either dead or they no longer cared. With the thoughts of love and couples came to mind the thoughts of an eighteen year old boy who used to be her best friend. True, at the time she had wanted so much more than just his friendship but that friendship had burned away to nothing in the light of Xavierā€™s death at her fatherā€™s hands. True, it wasnā€™t her fault that his father was dead, well perhaps it was; His father had come after her that night, proclaiming that she had broken a promise to his son. Isabelle shivered from the cold night air and wrapped her coat even tighter around herself as the memory of that night fled from her mind. She couldnā€™t remember everything about that night, almost nothing except for the storm, the blinding light and Adamā€™s hateful eyes as she turned away from him.

 

She was almost there, almost at the little strip of shops that she loved, with its bookstore and coffee house, with its diner and Movie Theater. She could hear the sounds of a struggle coming out of the dark alleyway between the Movie Theater and the diner. She could hear cursing and swearing but the accent and dialogue were jumbled almost as if the voice speaking was from another part of the world. Isabelle didnā€™t understand what was happening but she couldnā€™t stop herself from approaching the darkness emanating from the deserted alleyway.

 

ā€œI thought I told you Cael that if I found you here again that I would end your miserable existence,ā€ A deadly voice roared, Isabelle could swear that it sounded like

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