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Isabella

He sat on the small, wooden bed in her room. The room smelled of cinnamon and apples just like she always did, he now realizes. The walls of the room were a soft shade of green that created a calming feel. Her favorite color, he remembered her saying, was this shade of green. The pillows all matched the green walls which added to the serene feeling of the room. Stuffed bears, lions, dogs, and other animals were also neatly arranged on her bed. A light pink bear with round, green, translucent eyes sat amongst the collection. He picked it up and inspected it closely.

He remembered the night he’d given her this bear. It was her thirteenth birthday and he’d spent all day with her. She’d told him she had the greatest time of her life and that she’d never forget it. He couldn’t believe she had kept the bear for three years. He set the bear back down on the bed with the rest of the animals. It seemed so out of place now; it reminded him of her. It reminded him of Isabella.

Isabella was never one to try and fit in, she was always so individual. Her long, brown hair and big, dark eyes made her beautiful, even though he’d never said that to her. She was so beautiful, he thought now. He stood up and walked to her ivory colored wooden desk. On it, he immediately saw a silver frame decorated with twisting roses that held a photograph of the two of them together. She was smiling broadly with her arm draped around his shoulders. He was also smiling, which was rarely caught on camera, and held her closely, protectively. He gently touched her image on the photograph. A tear slid down his cheek as he realized how much he truly missed her.

Isabella would still have been alive if it wasn’t for him, he thought. She had so much more to live for. He didn’t realize how much he hadn’t appreciated her. He never dreamed he would feel this depressed without her. If he could only turn back time he wouldn’t have gotten drunk, he wouldn’t have gotten into that car, he wouldn’t have… There was no use wishing for the impossible. He looked around the room one more time, breathed in the beloved aroma of his dead sister, and closed the door.



The news was hard to watch since the death of his only daughter, Isabella. Mark forced himself to think of other things but it was impossible to pry his thoughts away from grief. He assumed television might help numb the pain in his heart. He was hardly paying attention to the newscaster on the television. She was describing an incident in which a car was driven off a cliff. According to her, the driver inside was a drunk eighteen-year old boy. The scene switched from her face to the scene of the accident. The helicopter-camera zoomed into to show a blue sedan, much like the one he owned, in ruins and being pulled out of the water by heavy machinery. “…the unidentified male carried no ID with him and had a .22 intoxication level,” the newscaster explained, “ he carried on items other than a small, stuffed, pink bear..” The image on screen changed to a small, soft pink colored bear with round green eyes and newly acquired blood blemishes.





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