present meets past.

The ceremony ended shortly after the grave had been filled, leaving George and Angel to stand in the centre of the graveyard.

Snow falling gently down onto the two, no words being exchanged between one another. There's not much to say after a funeral, everybody's left with a heavy cave in their hearts.

Despite the hole in their chests, George had made a promise.

He promised to tell Angel about Anastasia, regardless if Angel reassured him that he didn't have to tell her.

He needed to tell her for himself.

George can't move past Anastasia if he keeps her hidden away, he needs to face her head on.

"I have someone I'd like you to meet," George quickly spoke, his words muddling together like bubbling caramel as he shuffled to face Angel.

She tried to hide her surprise, nodding calmly.

He gingerly took her hand in his own, walking her across the graveyard to another large array of gravestones. A heartbreaking amount of gravestones.

The children gravestones seemed to hit Angel the hardest, seeing the small rainbow wind spinner pinwheels spin slowly in the bitter wind.

They walked to the edge of the cemetery property line and stop in front of a grave under an oak tree. Angel briefly looked around, then down at the head stone.

Anastasia Oliver.

Born March 23rd, 1997.

Died September 19th, 2016.

Angel was right. She didn't want to be right, she hoped that they had broken up because of an argument, a disagreement. Not her death.

"George," Angel's lips trembled, her grip on George's never faltering. She wouldn't let go of his hand, not until he let go, "I'm so sorry,"

She couldn't imagine the pain George went through, as was still going through.

She couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose George.

"Don't," George raised their interlocked fingers to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of Angel's hand, "She would have loved to have met you,"

Angel couldn't help but feel like she was replacing Anastasia, being stood here next to her grave holding George's hand felt almost wrong.

However much George reassured her that she was the only one he loved, she couldn't help but wonder if he would've still loved her if Anastasia was still alive.

Was Angel just the second choice?

Was Angel just a coping mechanism?

"I was driving with Anastasia, to Dream's house. It was a pointless trip, I wish we had stayed home," George started to explain, brushing the layer of snow off of the smooth granite, "The driver who we collided with was intoxicated, driving on the wrong side of the road. Before I noticed him speeding towards us, it was too late,"

He was nervous in the car because he didn't want history to repeat itself.

He didn't want to kill another person he loved in his car.

"Her head went through the windscreen, cutting up her neck and face. She lost too much blood in the time it took for the ambulance to arrive,"

"Please, Ana," George begged, his hands fumbling with her wrist to find a pulse before tapping her neck with two fingers, "You're okay, you're okay,"

He found reassurance in his own words, despite saying them in an attempt to reassure Anastasia.

The drunken man sat dazed in his car, still managing to lift the bottle to his lips once more. He was too oblivious to understand what he had done, too intoxicated to care.

George caught eyes with the man, climbing out of their crushed sedan to confront him. It was his fault. His fault.

His girlfriend was dying because of him.

He ignored the blood trickling down his body, the shooting pain which dragged against his tibia. It was definitely fractured if not broken, but it didn't matter.

Ana mattered. Getting revenge for Ana mattered.

His left leg almost dragged behind him, storming towards the grey car before him.

"What the fuck was that you fucking idiot?!" he yelled, forcing the man's car door open, however much he protested against it, "Get the fuck out of the car,"

He grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the car, "Hey! Hey! Watch it asshole!"

"You killed my girlfriend," George firmly slapped him across the face, holding onto the neck of his t-shirt, "She's dead! Because of you!"

The more anger that built up inside of him, the stronger his punches became, instantly leaving bruises and blood across the man's face.

"I didn't do shit," the man started to fight back, landing a firm punch in George's eye socket, "You should have looked where you were going!"

The pain he felt didn't seem to matter, since the agonising pain in his heart seemed to tune out the soreness of his eye.

"You were on the wrong fucking side of the road!"

George knew he had to stop. That it would only make it worse if he killed this man for killing his girlfriend.

He couldn't stop.

The fire inside of him kept growing, the longer he looked at his face.

Throbbing bruises painted his face, alongside smudged blood on his upper lip.

He was brought back to reality when the sirens could be heard in the distance, they had finally came.

George limped back to his car, leaning against the drivers door as he waited for the ambulance to be in sight.

The drunken man sat beside his car on the tarmac, wiping the blood from his nose, too drunk to understand the severity of the situation.

Anastasia was dead.

Angel listened to George intently, her hand brushing through his hair as a way of comfort, "Did he go to jail?"

"That's the worst part," he shook his head with a shaky sigh, "He got out of jail a year later,"

Drunk driving jail time is six months or a 10,000 fine.

But the man had killed someone in a car accident, which was a felony that, upon conviction, should result in a sentence of between 3 and 15 years of imprisonment.

A year wasn't nearly enough time in jail.

"But he killed someone? It wasn't just drunk driving,"

It was infuriating to know that someone like him managed to get released with barely any jail time.

"He knew some cops, I guess. We didn't have enough cash to take him to court either way,"

He was released, despite being a danger to every person on the road.

Who knows how many other times this accident has occurred.

"How long has she been unconscious?" the blonde nurse asked, pulling Anastasia's body out of the car and laying her down onto a spinal board.

They had to treat accidents as a spinal injury, since it's the most fatal. If they were to move her in the wrong way, it could permanently paralyse her.

Though, that didn't really matter since she was already gone.

They were putting all this effort into saving a dead girl.

"Since I first called you guys, around twenty minutes," one paramedic instructed George to sit down, so she could tend to his injured leg, but he didn't cooperate well.

"Sir, I'll need you to stay still for me," she held his shoulders, gently tilting his head away from my body being escorted into the ambulance.

"I want to go with her," he pointed to the ambulance, pushing the nurse off of his leg, "I'm fine, see? Let me go with her,"

"Sir-,"

George winced behind the woman's back, limping towards the ambulance and begging to be let inside, "I'm her boyfriend, please!"

"You can go in the second ambulance coming, with Tony," his eyes followed the paramedics finger, pointing to the man George had beat up minutes ago.

"Just let me-,"

They shut the doors, driving off before George could say a word.

A paramedic stayed with the two men, keeping them both a safe distance apart until police arrived.

George wished that he had faked a larger injury, so that he would've been able to travel with her body in the ambulance.

Instead, he was stuck with Tony and the paramedic. The man who had killed his girlfriend and the paramedic who took way too fucking long to arrive.

They were both crying now, stood on the small pathway in front of Anastasia's grave, letting the snow melt on the warmth of their cheeks.

"I don't want to lose you too," George mumbled, pressing his forehead against Angel's with teary eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere, George," she carefully raised her hand to his cheek, brushing away the snowflakes and tears delicately placed upon his faint freckles, "I'm not going anywhere,"

She'll look after him, Anastasia.

She'll make sure he's okay.

AUTHORS NOTE ;

reused some of this chapter from a dropped book of mine ^__^