Marshall looked at his reflection, he could see how much grief had overtaken him in the past year. Even before that, life had taken its toll on Marshall.

He couldn't remember a time that he had short hair, nor could he remember the time he had a clean shaven jawline.

He didn't have a bushy beard, but it was certainly unkept around his jawline.

Marshall looked at the electric razor and scissors on the bathroom sink. He remembered when Larna had placed them there, it was two days before she had told him she was leaving.

She didn't put them there as an ultimatum, instead she put them there for Marshall in hopes that maybe a fresh look would help him find something in himself.

He studied the razor and scissors; they hadn't moved from their spot in a year. Even when the nurses had come and gone from his place, he had forced them not to touch them. Nothing in the bathroom was allowed to change expect for the towels.

Marshall's memory had blocked out so much of Larna's death, he hadn't realised how much of her had lingered in his mind or around his house.

It was like the house was her's too, she had spent more time with him then she did with anyone else. He couldn't even remember if she had her own home to go to.

Marshall shakily reached for the electric razor; he took a deep breath before pressing the power button. He watched as the electric razor came to life.

He watched his reflection in the mirror as he put the razor blades to his lower jaw.

Marshall pressed the power button off; he placed the electric razor back down on the sink's edge.

He took in his freshly shaved reflection. He almost looked like a different person with a clean shaven jawline.

Marshall saw Larna standing behind him, she was smiling.

He turned his head, but she wasn't standing behind him.

Marshall turned his attention down to the scissors; he reached his hand down to the scissors.

He adjusted his grip on the scissors handles before using his other hand to pull a section of long hair away from his head.

Marshall listened to the scissors cut away each section of hair he held out, as he tried to concentrate on his cuts.

He tried not to think about all the times Larna had touched his hair, all the times she had ran her fingers through his hair, all the times she pushed his hair out of his face, all the times he had long hair and all the times she pulled his hair into a ponytail or braids.

Marshall dropped the scissors into the sink, his hands fall to the basins edge.

He lowered his head as the memories flooded into his mind.

Marshall took a moment before slowly lifting his head to see his reflection staring back at him; he looked like a man who was finally trying to move on.

He brushed off his hair from his shirt, ignoring it as it fall around his shoes.

Marshall grabbed his tie from the towel rack, he adjusted his tie comfortably around his collar without hesitation. He grabbed his jacket as it barely sat over the door handle, he pulled on his jacket.

Marshall opened the bathroom door, he stepped out into the hallway.

He began to make his way towards the front door, before pushing it open.

"Marshall?" Reginald called out.

Marshall didn't turn around; he had no point in being babysit for any longer. He was a grown man.

His house was tainted, tainted with memories of Larna, tainted by all the people who came and went from his house.

Marshall felt it was time to start fresh, make new memories, try to move on from grief.

Marshall stepped out of the house; he felt the cool afternoon breeze pass along him as he walked towards the front gate.