Starcrossed

My life began as simply as any other. My parents were happily married, my older brother Lee couldn't wait to teach his little sister to ride bikes and shoot a spud gun and we all lived in our little semi-detached house with a shiny red door and a rose bush in the garden. I was a normal kid, loved Barbie dolls, blue Smarties, playing pirates, Christmas presents. Happily Ever After. Or so we thought.
One of the best memories I have of my family was my sixteenth birthday; my last birthday with my Mother. Sixteen is supposed to be a pretty big birthday, I remember waking up in the morning and thinking to myself that it didn't really feel any different, simply another year older. Then something changed and I had to grow up.
My Mother handed me a small box and wished me a happy birthday. She had tears in her eyes, but she never cried, never. She didn't cry at Lee's sixteenth, she didn't cry at Grandpa's funeral, she just never cried. Something was up. My hands fumbled with the wrapping paper and sellotape; she'd wrapped it good. The blue box opened with a satisfying click and a glimmer of light reflected off the silver heart locket that sat on a little velvet cushion that matched the box. It was beautiful, perfect. Cameras flashed as family members captured the memory and my Father helped me put the locket on. It had a delicate, intricate 'K' for Kate engraved on it's face. I never took it off, it went everywhere with me.
That afternoon Lee and I sat and enjoyed a few short hours of ignorant bliss, totally unaware of the clouds forming over what was once a bright future.