Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Fast and the Furious character.
This is my first Fanfiction and I'm very nervous about posting. I hope you guys enjoy and please review. I'm thankful to have some amazing friends on this site that have pushed me to actually write one of my stories instead of finding a very talented writer to write the story for me. Enjoy!
Never in a million years would I have thought my life would play out like it has. Death is unbearable; losing someone you love is heartbreaking. But death is an event that everyone has to experience sooner or later. The emotional and physical pain is downright crippling to the soul. It takes months –sometimes years, even—to get through the grieving process. I guess that's why I'm still here grieving for something that was taken away from me, but if I'm honest with myself it was my poor decision that got me here.
Down on one knee, I can feel moisture from the grass seeping through my pants, confirming that it had rained earlier. It's late on a gloomy Sunday and the cemetery matches the eerie atmosphere. Resting my hands over the name engraved on the headstone, I take a shaky breath and my tears fall freely. I was never one to cry; I was the type to bottled up my emotions and bury them in the deepest, darkest corner of my heart that I could find. My dad used to always tell me tears were a sign of weakness, and fragility leads to death, both mentally and physically. The irony of the situation is that he was right. My weakness was what destroyed me and led me to my death. Death… there goes that word again; a word that has the ability to break even the strongest of hearts. Gently tracing over the name and date on the tombstone, I wish I would have listened to my dad.
I tried my hardest to escape the pain, but I find myself drowning and the pain sweeps over me with the ferocity of a tidal wave. It invades every part of me for days. For months. But after the pain comes the hate. Hate for being weak. Hate for believing in the so called word 'love', and hate for letting it make a fool out of me. Books can really fuck you up; they can make you believe that there's actually something to the whole 'happily ever after' bullshit. Eventually you'll come to realize that they're just words on a page that are meant to deceive the simple-hearted; like me.
Standing up and brushing the dirt off my pants, I turn and begin walking away from the headstone that reads: "In Loving Memory of Leticia Ortiz".
It's a strange feeling having your own headstone; knowing that according to the world, you're dead. Cold, and buried six feet under. Killed in a car accident and burned beyond recognition. At least, that's what the report said, anyway. I bet you're wondering how all this came about, come with me.
Let's go for a ride.