Morning dawns and Boo wakes to the sound of shouting. Moments pass as she stays suspended in the cozy place between the unconscious and the conscious, until she is rudely forced awake by an ear-piercing crash. In her half-awake state, she throws the covers off and stumbles down the stairs.

Her vision is still covered with a film of sleep as she rushes into the kitchen to see Martha and Lori facing off, yelling full volume and each baring their own strange choice of weapon. Martha holds a beat up spatula while there's a small dinner plate in Lori's grip. On the floor between them is a shattered pile of ceramic; Boo doesn't have to guess to know who caused that.

"Jesus, Mom, it's just until the hurricane's over!" Lori yells.

"No, absolutely not!"

"If he can't stay here we'll have to go to a damn shelter!"

"Then go to a shelter!" Martha says forcefully. "You are free to stay here whenever you want but I will not have that man in my house!"

Boo is torn between shock at being woken up so violently and aggravation at hearing the same tired argument. At least once a week, Lori would try to convince Martha to let her sleazy on-off "boyfriend" move in to the spare bedroom, and at least once a week Martha had to chase both of them off her property because she refused to have Shawn anywhere near the house.

Not for nothing either - if Lori was a deadbeat, Shawn was a deadbeat squared. The man had two baby mommas, three monthly child support checks, and a handful of misdemeanors under his belt. Not to mention he was incapable of holding down a job for more than a few weeks and had been kicked out of nearly every house he crashed in.

"Don't tell me you can't use the money!" Lori yells. "We'll pay rent! We just need a place until the hurricane is over, Mom, are you that heartless!?"

Martha swats the air with her spatula. "If you can't afford bail, what makes you think you can afford rent?"

Lori's shrill voice rattles around in Boo's skull, flicking on all kinds of switches. Having gone unnoticed until now, she springs into action and jumps in front of Martha. Lori barely has time to register what's happened before Boo's hand comes cutting through the air and smacks Lori clean across the face. The sharp sound of skin upon skin punctures the air and a tense silence falls upon the kitchen.

Boo's heartbeat thunders in her ribcage. Her own face is flushed as she glares defiantly up at Lori, who can only gape back while holding her reddened cheek. Boo snatches the plate from Lori's hand and takes a defensive step forward.

"She said no," Boo says firmly. "Leave. And take that creep Shawn with you, or I swear to God I'm calling the cops."

Boo would rather jump off the cliff in Martha's backyard before willingly calling any Jack Creek cop, but Lori doesn't need to know that. The threat of more jail time is enough to ward her off.

Lori's eyes jump from Boo to Martha, then eventually back to Boo. For once, Martha doesn't make a move to help Lori, and she's forced to stomp out of the kitchen in defeat.

"Don't think you can get away with attacking me like that!" she screams at Boo before slamming the front door shut and disappearing altogether.

Boo stares at the door for a moment longer until she's sure Lori won't be returning. Her heart stumbles in surprise as she turns to see Martha's face has gone ash-white and she suddenly looks ten years older.

"Nana?" Boo asks softly.

Martha's gaze briefly lifts to meet Boo's. The fire is gone from her eyes, leaving behind a frightening emptiness.

Her hands tighten on the plate in her grip. Boo swallows the guilt building in her throat. "Nana, I-"

Martha merely shakes her head, stepping forward to wordlessly hand off the spatula to Boo before retreating to her room. Boo stands alone in the kitchen and watches her leave, wrestling with thee melancholy feeling that surfaces in her stomach.

I was just trying to help.

« • »

Martha remains holed up in her room all morning, leaving Boo to attend to the mess in the kitchen. She carefully picks up the largest fragments of ceramic before sweeping the rest out onto the back patio.

She eats a late breakfast, seated alone at the dining table while watching specks of dust float through the still morning air. Muted yellow light glows from behind the closed blinds, painting the room in warm hues. Boo feels her stomach tingle from something that isn't quite excitement; perhaps restlessness. By the time she's done eating, she's practically itching to get out the door.

She showers and dresses, but upon entering the foyer an hour later, Martha's door is still pulled shut. Boo can hear the faint sound of the television going, likely showing another rerun of Perry Mason.

"Nana, I'm going out!" Boo calls, tugging on one Converse shoe and lacing it snugly onto her foot.

No response. Boo chews anxiously on her cheek, wondering if she should check on Martha.

"Need anything while I'm gone?" She tries again while pulling on the other shoe and tying it.

Still no answer. Boo wrestles with her indecision before deciding it's probably best to leave well-enough alone. The exhaustion written on Martha's face was enough to suggest she needs a few hours alone to work through whatever emotions she's feeling. Boo takes a quick peek outside to see a sky of matte heather gray clouds and flecks of rain just beginning to dot the window. She tugs on a light coat before trudging to her car.

"Morning, Tabs," Boo says cheerily, giving the hood of her car a playful thump. "Let's go run some errands."

With Monroe's inevitable arrival circling closer each day, Boo decides it's time to begin seriously preparing for what may happen. Her first stop is Welson's Supermarket, a locally-owned grocery store and the best place to find supplies to stock up on.

It seems the rest of Jack Creek has come to the same realization. Welson's is swarming with customers piled into every small aisle. Boo fetches the last handheld cart from a stand by the door and gets to work, crawling the shelves and hunting for things she may need.

To her dismay, most of the shelves have been picked clean already. She's able to snag a few cans of food and some extra batteries but the majority of her time is spent awkwardly squeezing past people and frowning when she can't find what she's looking for.

"Melita?"

Hearing her name in an unfamiliar mouth catches Boo off guard. She looks up from a can of green beans and into the eyes of Calum Waters. Her stomach drops and she feels the blood shunt away from her cheeks.

Fuck. First your creepy granddad and now you? God has a sick sense of humor.

Boo knows her disappointment is blatant by the subtle way Calum's eyebrows furrow. She grimaces at him in a half-hearted attempt at a "friendly" smile and turns to scurry away.

"Hey, it's Cal," Calum says in earnest. "We went to middle school together, remember?"

How could I forget?

Boo groans internally, knowing there's no way out of getting sucked into this conversation. "Yeah, I remember," she says curtly. "What are you doing here, I thought you moved."

Calum rubs the back of his neck and shrugs. "Yeah, I was living in Arizona with my old man. But my mom got sick so I came back a couple weeks ago."

"Oh," Boo replies, unable to keep the melancholy tone from her voice. She kind of likes Janet, despite her terrible father and rotten son. Janet didn't seem to have a mean bone in her body, and Boo felt the only logical explanation was that kindness was a recessive gene in the Waters family.

"Yeah, but I think she'll be alright," Calum continues, not seeming to notice the drop in her voice. "How've you been?"

"Fine," Boo says stiffly, though she certainly doesn't feel fine. Calum may be playing nice, but that's akin to saying a lion is as harmless as a housecat. She's just waiting for the moment when he finds a weak spot to pounce on. For a moment she spirals away into her last memory of Calum, when she'd come home from school with a busted lip and a bruised face because he decided to use her as a punching bag. Her hands tighten instinctively around the can of green beans.

Calum looks her up and down for a moment, his hazel eyes grazing her figure lustfully. As if he had any right to look at her that way after all the hell he put her through growing up. "You look better than fine," he chuckles. "You look great for . . . well, you know."

His words automatically send her thoughts jumping to the worst conclusion. Her eyebrows pull together and her voice hardens as she sneers, "For what?"

Calum's eyes widen a little; his mouth sputters like a dying engine. "F-For, well . . . it, it doesn't matter."

"Pretty for a dark girl, huh?" Boo jeers at him. "That's what you were gonna say, wasn't it?"

"Wait, Mel, you got it all wrong," he says hastily. But the look in his eyes tells Boo her quick assumption was more than on target.

"No, I don't think I do," she says derisively. "You just always have to find some way to tear me down, don't you?"

Calum's gaze shifts down shamefully. Boo tosses the can of green beans into her cart and shoves her way past him without another word. He doesn't try to stop her from leaving, which she's grateful for. The last thing she needs is to make a scene in the store and give Jack Creek another reason to talk about her.

As she stalks out of the front entrance, a tall man is making his way into the store. She pushes past him, her shoulder just grazing his arm, and glances up into bright green eyes as she passes. She's almost tempted to look back as she walks to her car, but she doesn't want to accidentally see Calum again.

When Boo arrives home an hour later after finishing her other errands, she's still feeling wound up. She puts away her measly haul of supplies and takes another look at Martha's room. The door is still shut but now there's a small white note taped to the wood.

Melita,

Went out. Will be back for dinner. Please take the blue serving bowl in the dishwasher back to the neighbor down the street; his is the third house on the right.

Nana

Boo sighs to herself, despite the relief she feels within. At least Martha is feeling normal again, or enough so to have left the house. Boo fetches the bowl - a big blue one with pretty white trim - from the dishwasher and ventures outside to return it.

The third house on the right is nearly at the end of the street. Martha's house sat on top of a long winding road that curled up a gentle hill, leaving the neighboring houses few and far between. As she walks up the cracked sidewalk path, Boo sneaks a glance at the black mailbox; H. Styles is written in clean white paint on the side. Three white steps lead from the front walk to a small porch with whitewashed wood. A few potted flowers sit on the handrails surrounding the porch, but not much else is outside. Not even a wind chime or a doormat.

Boo wrinkles her nose at the lack of welcoming decor but rings the doorbell anyhow. Maybe "H. Styles" just moved in.

"Hello?" she calls, trying to peer through the windows on either side of the front door. Both sets of curtains are pulled tightly shut but there's a small black car parked in the driveway, so somebody must be home. "Mr. Styles?"

No reply. Boo presses her ear to the wood but can't even hear the sound of footsteps behind the door.

"I have your bowl," she says with a grimace. "You let my nana borrow it, I'm just returning it for her."

Even this doesn't lure him out. Fed up with waiting for someone who's likely just another creepy neighbor, Boo rolls her eyes before setting the bowl in front of the door and skipping back down the steps.

About twenty feet up the sidewalk, she hears the sound of a door opening. Boo turns to see a tall man with a mop of long brown curls stooping out of the doorway to retrieve the bowl. She can't see his face but all she knows is the surge of annoyance that flares up upon seeing that Mr. H. Styles is, in fact, home.

Why didn't he just answer the door?

why do you think harry didn't answer the door? what are your thoughts on the story so far?? we're just getting started >:)