•A/N•

Hey! Just a little note: The contents of this are actually the Prologue and Chapter 1 of a book I've decided to not publish on Wattpad. It's named Footsteps.

Prologue | Two Minutes and Eighteen Seconds

Its amazing how many things can happen in just a matter of two minutes and eighteen seconds. These things can be just a tiny choice routine, or a life changing event.

In two minutes and eighteen seconds, you can stare off into the ocean, watching as the foamy waves splash ashore, bringing tons and tons of tiny bubbles aside them as they draw back to sea, off to the fish.

In two minutes and eighteen seconds, you can receive an award, feeling the hot, bright spotlight keeping you in it's glorious light as you take a proud bow in front of an audience, all smiling and clapping for you and you alone.

In two minutes and eighteen seconds, your imagination can soar. It can allow you to fly into light, fluffy clouds and travel deep into mysterious ancient temples holding treasures that no one has ever seen for as long as time stood.

Basically, a lot of things are possible to happen in two minutes and eighteen seconds—Some good, some bad. But all affect us in this great big mysterious happening called life.

Some call it The Butterfly Effect, I think. It simply means that everything you do will have an equivalent outcome.

Me? I think that it all winds down to how we think.

We can make a moment the most exciting time of our lives, or a depressing day—And when it all comes down, you realize that these things are possible because of the way we think and act in certain circumstances.

It's possible because all of us have different ways of speaking, thinking, acting, and actually everything. This difference and uniqueness between us are what gives our lives that certain spark that makes us wonder about what will happen next.

Because you can either listen to your favorite song, or crash a plane—

For better or for worse.

Chapter 1 | If Only...

I think that most people consider my father amazing. I, of course, am one of those people.

My dad, David Wren, is a well-known geologist. He has been known for his outstanding eagerness and responsibility when it came to his job. Dad always loved traveling and meeting other people—two things that are his everyday experiences in work.

He travelled around the world, always excited to explore new places. Traveling was my dad's passion.

"See, Nikole." He says, staring out the large glass window in our house. His eyes full of happiness and knowledge. "The world around us has just so much to offer."

Whenever he told me these stories of wonder, I always listened precisely. My father was wise far beyond his years, and he showed it all the time.

Dad also had a special interest for the unique. Maybe that's why he named me Nikole with a K. Or maybe that's why he enjoyed venturing to odd mysterious places better than simply going to the nearest mall.

"There's just so much we don't see way out there." He breathed, walking along the sidewalks with me. "I wish we could just get out there and see the world as what it used to be—in a time before we polluted Earth."

Little did we know that my father and his cheerfulness would disappear in an instant.

I still remember it like it was just yesterday, and truthfully, who couldn't? We were absolutely devastated when it happened, and it seemed like we cried for days.

That happened on a seemingly typical Thursday sometime last year.

I was sitting down on my most comfortable chair inside my bedroom, humming along to the tune of my favorite song, which was playing from the earphones attached to my phone.

And suddenly, a cold chill hit me just like a brick.

I'd love to say that it was just nothing, but then that'd be a lie.

At the moment, I shrugged it off, hoping—No, praying—that I was wrong.

Unfortunately, the universe likes to play around with our lives in odd ways.

I heard a gentle knock tap against my light door, and suddenly, I knew something was terribly wrong.

My mom never knocked. She'd usually just yell out my name as if there was a fire, and I'd open the door replying with a small "Yes?"

This time, I shakily opened the door, my eyebrows creasing with distress.

As my door slowly creaked open, I caught sight of Mom—Looking just as worried as I was.

"Hey, Nikole." She said, trying to sound calm. Mom never called me Nikole. She usually used my nickname—Nicky.

"Turn on the television. The news is on right now." She said quietly.

Shakily, I grabbed the remote control and clicked the TV on.

The news channel was already on.

"...Major damage has been found nearby sites of the plane wreck itself." An all-serious reporter announced. A shiver went up my spine as I realized that my father had been riding a plane just hours before. He was traveling to Zimbabwe.

Time slowed down for me. It felt like an hour until the reporter spoke once again, and when she did I felt like she was pronouncing one syllable per minute.

It was maddening.

"No survivors have been seen so far, but the following people's bodies have been identified and recovered."

A list of names followed. And one by one, I saw the big white text fly past the screen ever so slowly—Torturing me and Mom endlessly.

When the final name on the list came, I completely dropped the remote, but I almost didn't care.

My father's name was part of the list. He was a part of the "Deceased" list.

I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, and after a minute or two, they started streaming out and absolutely refused to stop.

"Oh my..." Mom exclaimed, cupping her hands over her mouth. And soft drops fell into the floor from her face.

She went over to where I was standing and wrapped her arms around me.

I didn't hesitate to turn around and bury my head into her shoulder. We both cried softly for what seemed like forever, and it was the worst day of my life.

What happened afterwards was a huge blur. I could remember small details, like having people I know come up to me and tell me their sincerest condolences, and I can still recall learning more about what exactly happened. A certain memory of me defying everything would always be in my memory. I was terrified, anxious, and distressed at the same time, and I couldn't accept the truth, so I allowed myself to twist reality and tell myself that it was all a false lie.

Oh, if only that was true. If only Dad was here to hug me and tell me how much he's proud of me. If only my life was completely normal. If only...

Me and Mom spoke to a chairperson once. That woman also spoke to the families and friends to the other people who died, and it comforted me to be together with all those people—grieving over the same reason.

Apparently, something got lodged in the plane's central engine. It then refused to function properly, and without the engine, the airplane couldn't work.

And so down went the plane as it was flying over a mountain province. The pilot tried calling for help, but his efforts were put to waste. Even if the help did come, it was too late.

The plane crashed down into the mountains in a matter of precisely two minutes and eighteen seconds. As it collided with the hard mountain rock, the plane smashed into wrecked pieces that scattered around along with all those lifeless bodies—

Including my father's.

And it definitely wasn't a piece of cake coping with life without a dad.

It was immensely painful for both me and Mom, because we felt as if someone was missing all the time.

And believe me, that isn't something you always want to feel.