Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this fic. From the Files of Madison Finn is Laura Dower's property.




From: Balletgrl
Subject: My condolences
Hey Maddie! I heard what happened. I am so sorry -

Delete. Click.

From: Wetwins
To: MadFinn
Subject: Your Gramma Helen
XOXO for Maddie! How are you holding up? I just heard from your mom -

Delete. Click.

From: JeffFinn
To: MadFinn
Subject: The Funeral
I wish I could be there with you right now, honey. But as I've heard your mom is now on her way to Chicago -


Madison Francesca Finn sighed, looking away as if trying to avoid the glare coming from her computer. It made her wonder why she bothered checking her email when she could not even read any of them without bursting into tears, especially the one from Dad's. The actuality of the instances had been slamming on her face, hard like a solid rock. If she would be honest with herself, this was one thing she could not run away from. Escaping reality virtually backfired.

The lone lady slowly stood up from her desk and slipped away her room. The desire to run away overpowered her. But where to go?

Pausing by her door, her eyes wandered towards the partly opened room of her grandmother. Ever since the accident, only one person had the courage to get inside. Some items were necessary to be obtained for the unwanted ceremony. Unfortunately, one must pass through the suddenly sacred chamber in order to go downstairs. How painful it was for Madison to always whiff at the familiar scent of roses, strongest in that place.

A shrill sound filled the silent home once owned by Gramma Helen. In a beat, Madison pulled out her phone to answer the call.

"M-Maddie? H-honeybear? I'm almost there," the cracking voice said on the other line.

"Okay mom," she choked. "We're ready to go."

Upon hanging up, her feet dragged her down the stairs, stepping on every step with heavy stride. Her eyes met the sullen face of her Uncle Bob, the tear-stricken appearance of her Aunt Angie and… his gentle, brown eyes. Approaching them, she first hugged her relatives giving assurances to each other. She was then enveloped in a pair of strong arms.

"Mark…" Madison sobbed.

"Maddie," the brown-haired boy muttered, rubbing her back for comfort.

After a few moments, Mom arrived. Her face all red and puffy, she burst into tears, running towards her family and cuddling each of them for support. And now, those who vowed to stand through all of this were finally ready to leave. But that did not equate to how ready they were on imparting their farewell. With Mark on the wheels, everybody let themselves be transported to the cemetery.

The sky was dark and cloudy, a sign of possible shower. Out of sudden, drops of summer rain started to splatter all over Winnetka. But the people in black ignored the bad weather as they went out of the vehicle. Already, a large crowd of people hovered over the reason why they were all here. Most of them were not even recognizable to Madison but their appearance did not surprise her. Someone as sweet as Gramma Helen would be so memorable to many.

One by one, familiar faces and total strangers offered their sympathies to the family. Madison tried to smile at each of them while muttering "Thank you" in a monotonous voice. After all, there was nothing to be thankful about for this tragic event.

After some time, Madison, Mom, Aunt Angie and Uncle Bob stood in front of the blue casket where their departed loved one lies. The color of the case seemed unusual yet perfect, signifying the calm and peace often radiated from Gramma Helen.

While the pastor did his reading, Madison felt a movement beside her. Someone grabbed her hand and clutched it firmly, as if assuring her that she was not alone in this. She squeezed back, staring at Mark's eyes.

"It's too bad that Mabel can't be here," she murmured.

"I know," he answered softly. "But she's really old as well. I don't think she can bear it."

"Who could?" she responded somehow bitterly. Mark sensed it, gently placing his arm around her shoulders.

The rest of the service passed in a blur to Madison. Her ears were blocked out from other sounds. Nor did the sweet words of the final blessings penetrated through the troubled mind of the young lady. She could only hear her own heart beating, as if losing her breath from running. Or maybe her heart is filled with helpless hoping that she could run away into oblivion, away from the veracity. But again, where to go?

How could something like this happened to someone as nice as her grandmother? Despite the fact that death was inevitable especially with someone as old Gramma Helen, Madison could not bring herself to be ready for her loss yet. Then again, will she ever be ready? How could life be so unfair?

A soft touch took Madison out of her reverie. Glancing at her left, she noticed Mom holding out a stem of red rose. Each of them held one, to be laid out on the final resting place of Gramma Helen. With shaky hands, Madison took the plant. The point had come to say those words she despise.

Goodbye, gramma. I love you so much, she thought, letting the flower fall into the dugout grave, glimpsing on the blue treasure chest for the very last time.

Where to run away? Who's to blame? Nowhere to go. No one to blame. Suddenly, life seemed like a never ending abyss.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

Life is sweet,

But all ends too.


Author's Note: R&R please! How was it so far? That's it so I'll know if I should continue it. Thanks!