House Of Stone

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Callum Stone

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Callum had been avoiding entering into the Stone household for a while now but the time had come for him to take charge of his emotions. Slowly, he walked up the snowy garden path of the grey stoned house in Chipstead, his hands dug deep in his pocket. As he approached the front door, he reached around in his coat pocket trying to find the key that was left in his possesion. Upon finding it his hand trembled as he slowly fitted it into the lock.
catuiously he pushed it open, not sure what sight would meet his eyes. Stepping in he subconciously wiped his feet on the mat, and stretched his arms out into the darkness, trying to find the light. Soon his fingers met the cold plastic of the switch and the room was filled with light. Temporarily blinded Callum shielded his eyes with his hands, and waited for them to grow accustemed to the light. It took merely seconds but he was unwilling to remove his hands. Slowly he lowered them, scared of what he might see.
The house looked as it always did, with the exception of the Christmas decorations. He walked slowly, breathing deeply along the cold hall. He shivered, and drew his jacket closer towards him glad of the extra warmth. He stopped at the great wooden door, showing the entrance to the sitting room. Callum didn't want to enter it, but he knew at some stage he would have to. Taking a deep breath he walked in and looked around. He noticed the fireplace, logs ready and waiting to be lit. The Christmas tree, decorated superbly, and Callum couldn't help but smile at his brothers precision with decorating it. Slowly he walked over to the fireplace, bending down and beginning to manually light it. He didn't have to, he had his wand in his pocket but he felt that this was not the time to be using magic.
As the fire began to burn he slowly lowered himself into the nearset armchair and watched it, the flames reflecting in the blue of his eyes. The echoes and memories flooded his mind, and a single tear fell on his face.
In the past week Callum Stone had aged as he never thought would be possible and his thoughts now turned to his niece, and how he could ever break this saddening news to her.
 
Amy had been suprised when her uncle had not come to meet her, but instead a distant relative had collected her. However, she was still unaware of anything odd happening and relaxed in the car, a smile plastered on her face as scenes of snowy England whizzed past.
In seemingly no time at all, they had arrived in Chipstead and now Amy sat up, positively beaming to be back here. She was so happy and her heart was filled with joy at the prospect of seeing her dad and uncle once again. When the car stopped Amy jumped out, thanking her 'chauffeur' and slipped and slided up the icey garden path. However she stopped short as she reached the front door. It was completely bare. Her face turned into a quizzical frown, wondering why on earth her father hadn't put up the Christmas wreath. Her relative who had driven her here had told her that her uncle owuld be waiting for her at home and so stepping forward she knocked gingerly on the door, unsure as to what to expect.
 
Callum had been sitting in his usual place beside the fire when he heard a car pulling up. He did not want to open the door, he didn't want to let his niece into this house of despair and grief. Soon he heard the slamming of the door and footsteps slipping and sliding on the icy front path. He expected a knock to follow, and was therefore suprised when there was a slight hesitation. She's noticed the missing wreath he thought quickly to himself and his breathing became shallow. Amy was a quick young girl, and he should have thought about this before. But the past wa sin the past, as an emotionally fragile Callum had soon learnt. The past couldn't be changed, no matter how much you willed it to.
He listened hard for the knocking of the door, almost wanting it not to come, but of course it did. It was a slow and almost silent knock, and slowly and unwillingly he rose from the arm chair.
Each step he took towards the front door felt like he was walking on fire. Every time he breathed it felt like knives were piercing his sides. He tried, and begged his facial muscles to pull themselves into a smile but it seemed impossible. He tried again and again and at last they managed a weak smile.
After what had seemed like seconds he had arrived at the front door, breathless, as if he had run a marathon. With a shaking hand he reached up, and slowly turned the handle of the door, hoping against everything he knew, that it would remain shut.
He closed his eyes, and slowly, very slowly he opened the front door, begging his eyes to not see his niece standing outside. Almost as slowly as he opened the door, he began to open his eyes, praying that it would not be Amy at the door. As the door opened he saw Amy, a quizzicaly look on her face. Callum looked like an aged man, his face pale and lined, his blue eyes had lost their spark a week ago, and had been replaced with dark circles which showed his constant waking every night.
"Welcome home Amy" was all he managed to say, and slowly opened his arms to receieve a hug.
 
Amy stood waiting outside the door for her uncle or dad to open it. She shivered as the icy cold wind blasted through her hair. The quizical look remained on her face as she saw the door open ever so slowly. Peering round she saw her uncle standing there and the quizical expression was quickly changed to one of shock.
This was not the Callum Stone she knew. His face was so pale, almost as white as the snow on the round. His normally bright blue eyes were dark and dull, as if there was no life in them. Underneath his eyes he had dark black circles, which Amy knew at once she hadn't been the only ones with sleeping difficulties.
However she tried to push all this aside as she quickly embraced her uncle warmly. "It's so great to be here!" she said excitedly. "Where's dad?" she asked, removing herself from her uncle's arms and stepping over the threshold, wiping her feet on the mat before quickly taking off her shoes. She peered down the darkened hall way and turned to her uncle, waiting for his reply.
 
Callum couldn't help but force his smile into a proper one as Amy embraced him. It was so good to see her, but as soon as this thought entered his mind it was pushed out by the negative thought of what he had yet to do. He closed the door as she stepped into the house and removed her shoes, forgetting to take off her coat. "You look freezing how about a nice warm drink?" he asked, compeletly ignoring her question about her dad. He didn't wait for a reply but simply walked stiffly past her into the kitchen where he began to busy himself making her a hot chocolate.
 
Where is dad? was Amy's inital thought as her uncle bypassed her question. She had forgotten to take her coat off, and begun to do so when the cold of the house suddenly hit her. Strange she thought to herself, Dad always has the heating on this time of the year, she mused, peering once again down the darkened hallway.
Amy barely registered Callum asking her for a hot chocolate and simply replied with a "Mmm" before removing her gaze and shuffling after him in the direction of the kitchen where she proceeded to watch him quizically from the doorway.
All his actions were done as if he had no energy, he moved in such a stiff manner, not his usual careless way. A small frown appeared on her face, she wasn't stupid and she knew something was up. Obviously something had happened to Callum but she had no idea what. "Is dad working?" she asked him again, hoping that this time he wouldn't ignore her. This was the second time she had asked a very simple question relating to her dad and she hoped Callum would have the courtesy of answering her.
 
Callum couldn't bring himself to even look at Amy and instead stood there as if he was extremely busy with the preparation of her hot drink.
Every time he had to reach up to get something it felt as if his arm was made of lead and he sometimes had to support it. He knew Amy would probably think something was wrong, but not even with the early tragedy in her life, could she think along the lines of what had actually happened.
He had been staring at the kitchen wall when the microwave pinged, telling him the milk was hot. Quickly removing it he stirred in the chocolate, and topped it with cream.
Turning round he heard her question but failed, once again to respond. "Here you go, drink up it will do you good" he said, forcing the smile on his face. "Shall we go into the sitting room?" he asked and once again he did not wait for an answer but strode into the hallway and in the direction of the sitting room.
Once here he sat himself in the armchair he was so used to sitting in and waited for Amy to herself arrive.
 
Amy was startled when Callum ignored her question and handed her the drink. It was extremely hot, and she wondered why Callum had not felt the heat when handing it to her. She quickly turned the mug around so as to be able to hold the handle and followed him slowly to the sitting room. Something was wrong, and as she finally came to the sitting room and sat herself down on the sofa she suddenly realised something. "Hey where's Dylan?" she asked, which she immediatly followed with, "Callum where's dad?". She stared at him, really wanting him to respond to her.
 
Callum watched Amy with his dark blue eyes as she took a seta on the sofa and looked around the room. Startled he had completely forgotten to tell her about Dylan, "Dylan, well he's at your aunts" he replied to her. Callum wasn't sure why he asked his sister to have the dog but when he had come he needed to be on his own, wallow in grief on his own. He was planning on collecting Dylan tomorrow, when Charlie had arrived.
Yet again he skimmed over the question about his brother, not sure how long this would be able to last. He didn;t think he would be able to utter the fateful words, the words that would tip Amy's world upside down.
"So tell me about school, your friends, your lessons" he said, not looking at her but instead just past her. He wanted her to lead a normal life, the girl who had lost her mother at 5 and had not lead a normal life. He wanted her to feel as if she were any other 11 year old girl, with a normal family background. But he knew now, it was too late for that wish to come true.
 
Amy had had enough of callum constantly skimming over her questions about her father. Shaking her head she almost shouted at him, "Callum, where, is, my, dad? If he's working just tell me, I won't be mad at him for doing so! I just want to tell him I'm home now and what to see him!" she exclaimed, slightly exasperated at her uncle's attempt to mask her fathers obseesive working patterns. Amy had grown up with her father working most of the time and she had grown used to it. So why hide it form her now. Amy was so confused about the great mystery of her father that she had completely missed what her uncle had said about Dylan. But right now, all she wanted to do was hear her father's voice once again, after missing its husky gravelly sound for a long time.
 
Callum didn't know what to do with himself. Amy clearly wasn't fooled by his evasive attempts at talking to her about her father and now he was in a state of despair. Should he continue ignoring her, or should he tell her.
It would break his heart to tell her, Callum didn't think he could do that to his niece, not after everything else.
"Amy" he croaked, feeling his voice crack and tears springing to his eyes. He coughed, clearing his throat Callum, you have to be strong, for Amy, she needs you he thought to himself. "Amy, we need to....we need to talk, about your father" was all he managed to say. He rose his face, so that his eyes made contact with hers, fully appreciating the startling emerald colour of hers, the same as his brothers once were.
 
Amy watched and listened as Callum's voice broke. She sat stock still, like a rabbit caught in headlights, not daring to move. She heard his faint cough, and then those words she didn't want to hear We need to talk. She sat there, merely gazing at Callum, wondering what on earth could he possibly tell her that would make him so, so, distraught. She didn't speak, she didn;t make a sound, she just sat there watching him.
 
Callum had hoped he would never, ever have to do this, but now, the rest of Amy's life depended on him. His heart raced, he felt his body go cold and clammy. He wrung his hands together, feeling restless and isolated. He wanted more than anything for this situation to be totally different. For Amy to have returned home, to a normal household, with a normal situation in hand.
Callum didn't know what to do, what to say that could possibly ease the pain of what would happen next.
But he knew, he knew deep down that it had to be done, for Amy to understand, to come to terms with it. She would need his support and Callum planned on using every ounce of his energy to help and protect her.
"Amy, it's, it's about your dad. There, there was an accident Amy. Your dad, he was coming round to my house, to talk about Christmas. The roads were icy, you know how they get like round here. He took the bike, I told him to drive, but he insisted on taking the motorbike. He was going round the bend, and, he didn't see the car coming. There was a crash Amy" he managed to get out. His muscles in his face hurt. His eyes were burning with pain. But he had to go on, Amy had to know. "He was taken to hospital, he was severely injured, the Doctors...there was nothing they could do....they tried and tried...but he was too badly hurt". Here he stopped, tears were pouring down his cheek. He blamed himself, Callum should have gone to see his brother. He was older than Mathieu, he should have gone round, he should have used the initiative. He could barely look at Amy. His breathing was shallow, the feeling of knives piercing his sides returned. He didn't know what else to do, what else to say.
For the second time in his life, Callum Stone felt helpless. Seeing his younger brother laying in that Hospital bed. Doctors crowded round him, and knowing there was nothing he could do to save him. Callum would have given his life to Mat just then, would have died to save his brother. But it was too late, there was nothing he, nor anyone could do.
 
Amy watched Callum as he spoke. Her mind went numb, it felt like her heart had stopped completely. She was unaware of anything around her. This couldn't be happening.
She felt the tears well up in her eyes, and had no control over them. They poured down her face. She didn't believe it. She couldn't believe. No. It wasn't happening. Callum was lying. Was pretending. Her breathing became shallow, her mouth completely dry. She felt as if, as if the world had stopped moving. Time itself had stood still. She watched Callum as the tears poured down his face, and listened as he continued. No. Amy would not believe this was happening. That was it. She wouldn't believe.
She tried wiping her cheeks dry but the tears kept falling from her emerald eyes. She felt the light go out inside of her, the flame that had once kept her alive, had gone.
"He's in the Hospital isn't he? He's there. He's alive. He...he....he has to there. Isn't he callum? He's alright. He's still alive. He...he....he's in the hospital. That's why you bought me home right? You bought me home to come see him? He's going to be alright? Isn't he Callum?" she rambled on, the salty tears entering her mouth every time she spoke. She hadn't even realised she had got to her feet. Her dad. The one person she thought would live forever. Protect her. Comfort her. Help her. Amy couldn't accept it. She wouldn't. Her mother had left her but her father would never to that to her. He would never, ever leave her.
"Callum?" she whispered, stil standing, staring at him.
 
[ignore]
 
Callum felt completely helpless as he watched Amy break down. He wanted to answer her, to shout that he was joking, that her father was alright. That it was just work. That he would be walking through the door any minute now. But he couldn't. Tears pouring down his cheeks, he crossed the room and done all he could think to do. He hugged her tightly. He wanted to protect her, to shield her. To let her know that no matter what he would be there for her. "I'm so sorry" he whispered to her as he hugged her. He could say nothing more, nothing else would ease the pain.
To lose one parent was a tragedy, but to lose two when a child was 11 was completely unthinkable. Amy would feel more isolated now more then ever. Amy needed Callum right now, and this was what he planned to do.
He hoped that the arrival of Charlie tomorrow would also help Amy, to give her someone else to talk to. She may not have seen him before, spoken to him ever, but he hoped that their grief would unite them. Bring them together.
 
Amy's whole body felt as though it was no longer attached to her any more. She stood there, tears pouring down her normally rosy cheeks. When Callum stood and hugged her, she was so grateful.
Amy was no longer an ordinary girl, not that she had ever been ordinary from the age of 5 onwards. But now, she was, she was alone. Alone. No parents. All she had was Callum and as this stark realisation hit her, she hugged him tight, not willing to ever let him go.
Her heart was beating fast, her skin was clammy. She didn't know what to do. She was an orphan. No mum. And now no dad. Amy didn't even bother to wipe the tears away, they ran down her face, thick and fast. Her mind was reeling.
She had not seen the accident, she hadn't been there, but in her mind she could see it all. The sound of skidding, the lights, the crash. She had been there before, and no-one could ever forget something like that.
Instinctively her hand reached for head, below the hair that now concealed the scar that had once felt so visible. It was always there, it would never go away, just as the pain she was experiancing in her heart right now would never go away. The dull, aching, almost physical pain that threatened to engulf her whole body, her whole mind. It had already taken over her heart, and would not recover.



Amy didn't know how long they had been standing there for. Minutes. Seconds. Hours. But when she finally opened her previously shut eyes, the light had faded. Breaking away from Callum she walked over to the table by the sofa and picked up her now cold hot chocolate. Silently she walked into the kitchen. Each step hurt, felt as if there was an enormous weight which rested on her shoulders, threatening to make her collapse. As she walked into the kitchen she could almost clearly hear "Wash your cup up Amy!!!". It was so real she actually spun round, expecting to see her dad walk through the open door any minute. She stood there, watching it, waiting. But when she realised he wouldn't be coming she went over to the sink, slowly lowering her cup and washed it up. Placing it on the washing up rack she didn't bother to dry her hands. She walked back out into the Hall, for the first time realising that her trunk was there. She had not seen anyone bring it in, but right now Amy didn't care. Slowly, she reached down and got it, heading for the stairs. She walked past the sitting room, staring in and seeing Callum right where they had both been standing previously. "Night" she whispered, the tears still falling down her face.
As she started to walk up the stairs, she lugged her trunk up them, feeling her fathers eyes on her. She could think of nothing more, every where she went, it felt as if her father was there. He couldn't be.....gone. As she finally reached the top of the stairs, se turned right and walked into her room.
Everything was where she left it. Literally dropping her trunk by the door she walked over, in the darkness and layed on her bed. She turned her head to the side, where her bedside table was, looking at the picture of her father and mother. "Night" she whispered.
 
Callum hugged Amy tightly, not wanting to ever let anything happen to her ever again. Every single emotion Amy felt right now felt as if it was pouring into him as well. He shared her pain and anguish and felt helpless, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop that.
He didn't know how long they had been standing there but soon he felt Amy break away. Callum simply stood there watching him. Hear her dull footsteps going into the kitchen, and then silence. He listened to every movement she made, any indication as to how she was feeling, her emotional pain. After a while he heard the water running and then her footsteps padding slowly down the Hall again. HE turned his head, his cheeks tear stained as she walked past the door, a silent "Night" whispered from her lips. He heard her gentle steps heaving her trunk up the stairs and then silence. Complete silence. Slowly, very slowly Callum lowered himself back in the chair.
All the pain, all the...the anger he felt as losing his brother just a week ago had returned, stronger and worse then ever. However it was the anger that now engulfed his whole body. Someone had taken his brother from him. Someone had taken Amy's father away.
The only person Amy had left right now was him, and he would do everything in his power to make sure she was safe, was never ever put through anything like this again.

Callum sat there for hours, thinking and thinking, the pain growing and growing. He watched the dying embers of the fire slowly burn out and with their slow disappearance, the anger subsided. All that was left was pain, and very very slowly, his eyes began to close. He may have looked peacefully asleep but his mind told a different story. Flashing lights, screeching sounds, the sound of hospital machinary cursed through his mind, tormenting him, every sleeping moment.
 
As Amy lay on her bed, a million thoughts whirled through her mind, whilst a continuous flow of tears poured down her face. Her emerald eyes no longer gleamed in such a brilliant colour but instead they were dull, as if all the life had been sucked out of them.
All of a sudden her mind flashed one name. Charlie. She hadn't even thought about him, she was too caught up in her own grief. Of course he would be in exactly the same position as her. He probably feels worse than me Amy thought suddenly. The tears slowly stopped as she sat up. Charlie had never known his dad, had never seen him. He had just began talking to him and now he had been taken away. Forever. Somehow, she didn't know why, but Amy's pain eased, ever so slightly indeed, but it did ease.
She had been laying on her side previously and now for the first time, she noticed the dull light pouring in through her window. Last night she had not bothered to get changed, to get into bed, to pull the curtains. Now, however, she stood up. She gazed around her room as if she had never seen it before.
Amy's room was of a relatively large size and was white in colour. However most of the walls were encased with pictures, mainly of family. Herself with her dad, her uncle, the whole of her family. There were pictures everywhere. Dazed she walked towards one of the walls and stretched out her arm, gently touching the pictures. She walked round her whole room, so slowly looking at the pictures, taking them in, absorbing them all over again. Fresh tears leaked out of her eyes as the memories came flooding back.
Eventually she reached the large window, looking out into the snowy lane. She stopped, and stared outside. Everything looked so beautiful, so magical. Amy had so many good memories in this house, with her dad. So many memories, more of which would never be able to be created. Not quite knwing why, she turned and made her way over to her trunk, dragging it over. Opening it, she pulled out a pair of black tracksuit bottoms and a grey tshirt. She made her way over to the bathroom and began to wash, and get changed. Amy could not bear to even look at the dark black jeans and grey jumper she had worn when she had been told about the news. Never would she wear them again, for her they were a symbol of grief, despair. Tying her hair up, she padded down the stairs into the sitting room to see Callum asleep.
A look of sadness was on his face, and once again the tours poured down Amy's face. She slowly and silently pulled a blanket over him which had been on the back of the sofa. Then she too sat down, but unlike Callum she had not slept, and knew she could not.
Amy merely sat there, staring into mid-air, wishing more then ever she could see her fathers face once more.
 
The breaking of the news about his father by his family had been devastating for Charlie. His whole world crumbled, but he did not break down. Crying was a sign of weakness in the family he had grown up in and so he simply took himself to his room where he sat, for hours at a time, with no food, nothing. Sat there. After days of Charlie spending his time like this, his aunt had come up to tell him that Callum had requested him to go over to England. Whether his family wanted him to go or not, Charlie was set on going. He was packed and ready to go the very same day and was on a plane by the evening. It was a long flight to England, but Charlie didn't mind. It gave him time. He still could not cry, grieve for the father he had lost at a young age, only to lose him again, just when he had began to contact him.
The once bright emerald green eyes that so resembled Mathieu's and Amy's had lost their spark. The life had gone out.

After a day of travelling Charlie found himself being driven up a winding English road, full of snow and ice. It was a small lane he soon discovered the cr had stopped in, and looked out of the window at the house that stood infront. The sun had only just really risen, making the house look almost life-like and happy. But Charlie knew that this appearance was deceptive, and that the inhabitants would be far from happy. Slowly he got out of the car and made his way up to the front door, slipping slightly on the ice.
He knew that Callum would be expecting him, but did not know if Callum knew it would be this early. Sighing he raised his hand and knocked tentatively on the door, waiting for an answer.
 
Amy had been so lost in her own thought, her own memories that she barely registered the knocking on the door. She wiped her salty cheeks and shook her head. Had she imagined it? She wasn't sure what to do. Opening the door would seem to her as if she was letting the world in on her problem, into this house which was filled with sadness. Still slightly puzzled she turned her attention to the clock on the mantel piece above the fire. 9am. Frowning slightly now she thought she had better get up to see who it was. Callum was still asleep, and didn't look as if he would be waking soon.

Slowly Amy rose from the sofa, shivering as she had no jumper on. She breathed deeply, not wanting whoever it was at the door to see her in a state. She padded down the corridor to the oak front door, took a deep breath and opened it.

The sunlight temporarily blinded her and as her focus returned she gasped. The dark blond, almost brown her, the green eyes. Dad. It was a few seconds longer when she realised that this person was shorter than her dad had been, and much younger.

For a few seconds Amy truly believed her dad had come home. Was living. Her green eyes welled with fresh tears. She was confused. Who was this person? Then it hit her. Charlie.

"Charlie?" she whispered softly.
 
Charlie stood shivering as he waited for the door to be opened. He was about to knock again when he heard a shuffling on the other side. He sood patiently, as he waited for the door to swing open, and when it did he saw a young girl, of about 11 or 12 standing there.

Her face was pale, her cheeks looked visibly tear stained, her eyes were of a dull green colour, resembling Charlie's identically. He saw the shock on her face as she took in his appearance, and then the disappointment in her eyes as she realised who it was.

"Amy?" he said back, suprised to find his voice so croaky. The sadness in her face was almost unbearable for Charlie to see. He had never met her in his life, never known of her existance. But now, it was like, none of that mattered. They were both here for the same reason. To grieve for the man they had both loved dearly.
 
They had never met each other. Never known of each others existance until a week or so ago. But all that flew out of the window.

Charlie was so like her father, the same coloured eyes, the same coloured hair, almost the same physique. Without thinking Amy flew into Charlie's arms, hugging him. The tears spilled out of her eyes thick and fast.

Here was someone who knew what she was going through. Who was in the same position as her. They had both lost their mums and now they had both lost their dad.

"I'm so sorry" she whispered, slightly muffled as she had buried her head into his jacket, feeling his warmth.
 
Charlie had, admittedly been slightly shocked when she just hurtled into him. But he reacted instinctively. He dropped his bag and hugged her. It was then, and only then that he let his emotions show. Tears poured out of his eyes, as he cried openly, hugging Amy tightly. He heard her muffled apology, and was slightly suprised by it. Moving his hand up he managed to wipe his face slightly. "Please, don't aplogise, I'm sorry, you knew him so well and I....I..."he whispered, not able to carry on his sentence, but instead squeezing Amy, hoping she would understand what he was trying to say.

He tried to keep himself together, to not show weakness. But it was as if Amy took the need away to always be strong, not showing emotion. New tears feel from his eyes but these were silent ones, just slowly travelling down his cheek.
 
Amy felt at a loss as to what to say as Charlie's sentence trailed off. She thought she had got to grips with the whole crying thing, not wanting to show people how she really felt. However just seeing Charlie standing there, so like their dad, was something Amy didn't think she would experiance again.

It was freezing outside on the cold crisp morning and she began to shiver, really starting to feel the cold. Slowly she moved away from Charlie and stood again at the entrance of the house. She sniffed, and wiped her eyes, trying to get rid of the tears. "I'm sorry leaving you out here, come in" she croaked, stepping into the hosue which felt so warm compared to outside. "Callum's still asleep, I didn't want to wake him" she explained, not quite knowing why.
 
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