The trees rustled and the birds sang a sad song as I sat there for a while watching the leaves sway back and forward.

Then the sounds of nature were not the only thing I heard.

A person's faint footsteps became louder and louder until a body sat down next to me. A large bulky body.

Stone never said anything. He did not have to. My fingers that were resting on the ground, interlinked with his as he reached for me. Warmth spread through me and travelled from the tips of my fingers to the bottom of my toes.

He finally spoke after a while. His voice was soft. As soft as his deep scary voice could go as he read her gravestone To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all

"Your mother liked Oscar Wilde?" He asked after recognising the quotes.

If the circumstances were different, then I would tease him for being a nerd.

"No. She didn’t." I replied with a laugh "We had this joke between us. She always said that when she died, she wanted something written by a famous writer on her gravestone. She wanted to appear smart, sophisticated and well read."

"That sounds like something you would do."

"Excuse me. I am well read." I feigned a gasp before I mentioned "Although, I didn’t think I would want a quote from someone else on my grave. I would want to write my own words."

He offered me a small smile "Like what?"

"I don't know." I said before thinking about it "Something funny like Dear Ghosts, you are not ready for the mean green machine."

"It is original anyway." He replied like he was holding back another chuckle, but his slight smile dipped when he noticed the empty glass bottle behind the gravestone.

Any hint of playfulness from him was completely gone and now replaced with worry.

"It is my dad's." I stated the obvious "I guess he was not drunk enough to forget her birthday."

My hand dwarfed his as he held on tighter. He applied more pressure to my fingers.

"Everything has just fallen apart," I voiced "And I do not know how to fix it."

The soft tone disappeared from the giant's voice as he demanded to know roughly "Did he ever hurt you?"

Quickly shaking my head, I answered him "He has never hurt me."

"That night at your house you were crying..."

The truth about the bottle being thrown was on my tongue but I swallowed it back. Stone appeared murderous and as if he was about to start a riot if he found out something did happen to me.

I did not want to make him angry, so I told him part of the truth.