Black had never been her color. No matter how expensive the clothes might have been or how they supposedly made everyone look slimmer, it was hard to don them when it meant acknowledging everything she ran from. Her mother was dead. The last time she had been to a funeral was years ago for her father and now it would seem she would outlive both her parents. It was hard not to dwell on the guilt that came with their deaths.
At least with her father there hadn't been anything she could do. She could hardly remember how he died, just that he was gone. But her mother had literally begged for her to listen knowing that her poor stubborn daughter would be the end of her. The tears in her eyes that day hadn't been from the smoke of her cigarette or the memories of the past. Those tears came from the fact she knew that there were no more chances because Ari couldn't even grant her a single request.
