—chapter three, or...

  ❛ a year in the life of a time-travelling hot-head. ❜  

JUNE 31st, 1960.

Diego -

My brother suggested writing to you about what's been happening here with us, in hopes of soon figuring out where the hell you're at. Honestly? I feel stupid doing this. Feels like I'm writing a diary. But he had a good point I guess. It's smart to try and keep track of all the stuff going on. So I'm gonna try this out.

I'll give you the whole summary when I see you again, cause I don't have enough paper for all that. But here, I've ditched Elodie and I go by 'Miss Lucille Cruise'. Lucy for short. Ellis' idea. I'm still not used to it; hopefully I don't have to get used to it.

I've been working as a groundskeeper — I guess?? If that's the right word for it. That's what Livingston calls it, but I really think glorified housekeeper and/or head bitch to boss around is a better title. But despite how much of a massive DICK Livingston is (which is funny cause his first name is Richard...hahaha) it's actually not too bad.

Okay, that's a lie. I hate every bit of this. I really wish your weirdo brother sent us somewhere way better than 1960. If it weren't for Ellis, I think I would have set this entire stuffy house to flame and walked out, cheesy eighties action movie style. 

But because of Ellis, I'm putting up with it. And I won't mind so long as he's happy. I do my work and he gets a good education and home. And Livingston really likes him, so I guess that's a plus too. He treats me better knowing my 'son' is like, wicked smart for himself.

I almost screwed us over today though. See, I let it slip outta my mind that women during these times weren't allowed to say much more than 'yes' and 'of course', and especially not working women in the homes of rich bastards who don't give two shits about anyone but themselves. I've been good about it 99% of the time when it's just the normal inhabitants and myself, but when Richard threw what I guess is his traditional thing around here, his little prestigious dinner party, I had to of course work and serve and listen to them talk shit about — well, it doesn't matter what. It was stupid, they were stupid and assholes and man oh man I wish I hadn't risked my one warning on something stupid like them.

I could have killed him, Diego. I didn't understand it. I never want to hurt people, not after what my old man made me do, but Livingston made me so, SO mad, standing there and talking on about how 'if he wanted someone to speak solely on their uneducated opinion' and 'he doesn't desire the entertainment of young, dim-witted women interrupting his well-versed and intelligent guests and abusing their rights within his home'. I swear he gets off of pulling me down and making sure I have nothing. And he does it all with this horribly, gruesome smile, it's disgusting. Reminds me of my father, and that's not a good comparison at ALL.

But I stuck through it. For Ellis and in the hopes that this will all be worth it soon enough. Hopefully we find you and your family soon enough, Robin Hood.

- Lucy (Elodie if you're nasty haha)

P.S. I'm realising now I didn't ever explain that to you...but I guess I can give you background information when I see you again. Til then, you're only getting these scraps of one HELL of a story, my love, if only to keep you interested in my tribulations in this blasted time.

P.P.S. Was the 'my love' too cheesy? I only have a pen so I can't fuckin erase anything so I'm sorry in advance if you throw up because of that. Feel free to ignore!!

JULY 21st, 1960.

Diego - 

It's been about a month since I've sat down to write one of these things. It's been long days and nights and very rarely do I have a moment to breathe, let alone write a glorified diary entry on my said long hours. But I'll do it for you.

(by the way, the 60s are making me feel cheesy as shit so...these letters are cheesy too. i also miss you a lot though.)

Livingston is obsessed with my brother and his brain. It terrifies me. I know he's smart — dunno how smart, considering he's the only one of us who got brains, but I know he's got something that I can't figure out going on in his little mind. And that intrigues Livingston. He looks at the kid like he's a collectible he can hang up in his office and take down to entertain his guests. If it weren't for the fact that I'm here, I think he would have by now.

Ellis worries me too, though. I don't think he realises the consequences of us merely being here, much less a kid like HIM being here. I try and cover for him as much as possible but Ellis soaks up all of this attention and praise -- like he wants to be in the spotlight. I guess I can't blame the kid, but he won't listen when I tell him that if he's a genius in 2019, there's no telling what shit he can cook up sixty years behind what he's used to. I don't know MUCH about history, but I'm not eager to learn what happens when he like, invents the computer or something decades before its a real thing.

But I'll be damned if Livingston has a say in what happens to him. I mean, he's my son. In this whacky situation at least. I never wanted to be a mother much, but I'll do anything for that kid to protect him.

I miss you. A whole lot. I don't know how I lasted years before. It's only been months here, but I feel like I'm losing my mind just waiting to hear you say something snarky for me to laugh at. I think I'm forgetting how to laugh here.

You remember that night you snuck me out off to this random rooftop at like, three in the morning? I was soooo pissed you woke me up, but then you brought me to that perch and goddamn, man, it was so pretty I couldn't care less about being tired. I think about that a lot. Sitting there with you. Huddled together like mf penguins trying to stay warm. It was so simple then.

- Elodie
(I refuse to go by Lucy in my own private letters, sorry.)

AUGUST 13th, 1960.

Diego -

It's late here. So late it's early. I can see the tips of the sun peeking up through my tiny window, mocking me for staying up so late KNOWING I have a full day of work ahead of me. But I don't think I know how to sleep anymore. So here I am. Writing to you.

I wonder if you'll ever even read this.

I can't sleep without seeing all of it unfolding behind my eyes. I thought therapy would help me sleep better, but I guess living through an apocalypse, visiting 'god' or whatever and then being forced to live this misery reversed all that shit. Because it's horrifying. All I see when I close my eyes is you and Ellis and everyone I care about, lost forever, and I can't do SHIT about it. And I'm so goddamn scared that I won't be able to stop those dreams from becoming real, Diego.

You know I think a lot about the things we said when we were young. About marriage, settling down and all that. I know we were messy way back then but I want that, still. Is that stupid?? I never thought I'd want to settle down, but in this chaos...I don't know. I keep wishing we had just worked it through way back then and I could have at least that to get me through this. I need something to keep me sane.

Ellis is worrying me still. Lately even more. He hides a lot of his thoughts from me but I've got a bit from him, and it ain't good. He keeps having these dreams. And normally I'd write that off as just that, but he's acting like they're real. He tells me in these "dreams", he goes to visit someone. Some lady, with glowing silver eyes and robot parts. And he talks to her and she shows him all these inventions and creations and stuff. He also told me that he saw her when we first landed here, but I don't remember a thing about her — and I feel like I'd remember a silver-eyed warrior lady, you know?! LIKE?!?!

Maybe time travel and all this crap from Livingston's making him hallucinate. I don't know. I'm just really scared, and I don't know how to help him when he's so convinced that this lady is real. I mean, I don't even know what they talk about! He doesn't say much about it at all no matter what I try, so like who knows?!

Maybe all teen boys go through a silver-eyed warrior woman phase, though. I mean I had a thing for Leia that went on for years...probably not connected. But whatever.

BTW if we get back to 2019, I'm getting a dog. I didn't get one for so many years and now I really hate I didn't take advantage of my time. You wanna go in on a dog? Become one of those couples that calls our pets our kids, treats them like royalty? I'd be down for that (unless you wanna get a Chihuahua, because I'll leave you again if that's the case. Screw Chihuahuas).

Are we even a couple? I wanna be. I hope you still do.

Love, Elodie.

P.S. if we make it back, i'm also never eating jello again. eugh.

SEPTEMBER 9th, 1960.

Diego -

Ellis started school today. It's a real fancy place, uniforms and posh boys with beady demon eyes everywhere. I hate it, but it's what we got, and if Livingston's paying...I don't mind investing in the kids future.

Ellis is weirdly uncaring about it, though he did perk up slightly when discussing the physics division inside. I think he also said something about a Chess club, which Livingston LOVED (turns out the prick was like a chess champ or something??) so they're really excited about MY SON'S future. Screw me, I guess.

I had to go shopping today. Livingston gives me a monthly clothing budget and allows me out with his only daughter to visit the shops. He's a stickler for these rules and I don't know why — it's not like I'd run away without Ellis. But I guess better safe then sorry. ANYWAYS, let me just say, the fashion in this decade is really not my thing. SO many bright colours and itchy fabrics, and I can't even choose much beyond what Livingston wants me in. Nothing above the knees, and also a buncha florals, because he said that 'you look nicest in florals, my dear'. He's picky about everything. Bitchass.

His daughter's weird. Her name's Aimee and she's stuck up like you wouldn't believe. I wish I could hate her like her father, and I think I do, but...I don't know, it feels weird. Like I know her somehow. Her eyes have a weirdly familiar look to them. She's super up her own ass though, and very much her father's daughter. I doubt she's had to work a day in her life. Judging by the way she turned her nose up when I asked her to PASS me a dress.

I can't blame her I guess. It's the system and I have a feeling there's more to her that lets on, because sometimes I could almost see some life in her. But then it'd fade again and she'd lecture me on what colours work on my skin. Maybe, though, I can get her to come out of her shell. I'd like to have one person to talk to, in this abysmal hellhole.

Love, Elodie.

P.S. I'm saving as much as I can from this monthly dress budget stuff. It's practically pennies since any change is confiscated, but I have a couple coins and hopefully, someday I can get Ellis and I out. I don't know where we'd go, but...I guess I have an abundance of time to think about that.

OCTOBER 1st, 1960.

My dearest, beloved birthday boy,

I wish I was there to say it to your face. But I'm saying it here, in hopes that one day, I'll have a chance to make it up to you: Happy Birthday, Diego Hargreeves.

I guess also it's MY birthday. But I don't know if that's true. I never got to find out that, and -- eh, doesn't matter. Moving on. Back to YOU!!

Happy birthday to you, my love. The CUTEST asshole with the CUTEST smile. The only man that could convince me that running away to get hitched in the middle of the night was a good idea (really wish we had just gone through with it now). Diego, I'm glad you're in this world, even if I still don't know where the HELL that is right now. I'm glad you exist. I'm glad I knew you. 

Know you. Sorry, haha.

I couldn't stop thinking about it and you allll day. No one really knows about it but Ellis (but he's so wrapped up in school, who am I to bother him) but it was eating me up inside, just thinking about how far away we are. And how I wish I could be with you. I know your birthday is never an easy day and especially in these times...I wish I could be there. If only.

You remember 2014? We were still good then, even between the fights and lack of communication stuff. We got SO drunk at that mini-golf place, got kicked out for making out in that castle area. And then sat on the curb outside that bakery eating shitty ass cake like we were seventeen again. Ellis was SO pissed off at me for being irresponsible like that. But I miss those days. I wish we could do that again. Just forget about real life and sit on a random curb and eat cake and drink like the rest of the world doesn't exist.

I cried a lot today. I haven't cried like that in so long. And it hurt.

By the way, Richard's friends are the worst. But I don't really care anymore. So long as there's a light, a way out of this and back to you, it may have been worth it.

I just hope that I can see you again, baby. I'm sending you kisses, wherever you are right now. I hope somehow you get them. I hope you're out there.

I love you. Happy birthday Diego.

NOVEMBER 19th, 1960.

So,

I got in a fight with Livingston today.

Looking back, I KNOW it was a mistake.

I'm outnumbered and outgunned. I can't do anything here, not without money or power and not when he holds everything I have anymore. Sure, I could like, light him on FIRE, but I don't think that'll flies in the sixties.

I just want him to stop taking Ellis. He knows what he's doing and I do too; I know he's trying to manipulate the kid under his wing and take him away, but dammit, he's MINE. Not my flesh and blood but I raised that boy since the day he was born and his mother left us high and dry. I have laid down my life countless times for him. I've given everything for him. I can't have that all go to waste.

But — what if I can't stop this? What if I lose him? What I if I fuck this up, too? I'm not made for this. I'm a screw-up by nature. I don't know if I can stop Livingston from taking my boy. FUCK.

Here, I'm just Lucille. A penniless runaway who couldn't take care of her son. I'm not who I used to be and I used to think that was good but I'm not so sure anymore. I mean, if I have these powers for nothing, what's the point? Why infect a pyromaniac and then insist they stay doused for eternity?

I hate Livingston. I know he'd do anything to get rid of me. But I won't give in, not with Ellis on the line. He might not realise what's at stake but I'll be damned if I forget. He's not HIS son, he's MINE. MINE. He doesn't know half the shit I do, hasn't done half the shit I've done to survive, that privileged swine.

I know my worth. And I refuse to be forced into a box I can't fit into. I'm gonna shove that simpering fool of a smile right up Livingston's ass the second I get the chance.

DECEMBER 7th, 1960.

Diego,

Sorry for taking so long to write. It felt pointless for a little longer, and I think my hope is dying far more quickly than I had planned — but I still have to believe, just like Ellis says. So I hope that you're out there somewhere. Maybe you'll show face soon.

Aimee and her husband came today. I'd never met her husband before, but after meeting him, I pity Aimee. It's obvious she doesn't love him. She looks so miserable beside him and her smile is so...empty. I wish I could tell her I understand and that she doesn't have to play that game with me. But I don't know how to make her trust me. So I'm playing my part and maybe soon I can talk to her about this, so she's not so alone. And for my sake too. I need a friend and despite her stuck up nature, Aimee doesn't seem half as bad as I thought her to be. There's still life behind those eyes.

But speaking of her — you know how I told you I thought I recognised her (you won't, but whenever you get these letters, you will). I think I do and it's going to sound absolutely insane, but she reminds me of my Grandmother. Somehow it feels right, to consider her as her, even if they're like a thousand years apart and whatever. I don't know how or if I'm losing my mind the longer I stay in this time period but something about her prim smile and the way she holds herself — it's how my Grandmother was. Always so proper and playing her part, but she could be a beast when someone tried to stand against her.

I think it's against the laws of time travel to interact with her, but I also think I can't possibly be right on this, so I guess it doesn't matter. I don't feel so alone with her and I feel safer, even if she's not her and I'm just creating this whole tale. Who knows, right?! She could have changed her name. Leslie never suited her, anyways.

I sound crazy. Maaaannn. I wish I could hear what you thought about all this.

Ellis is still having those dreams. He doesn't tell me much about them but I keep finding papers about when I clean his space -- scribbles of things he's seen and heard. He's started to hide them but little does he know, I was the MASTER of hiding things as a kid. I'm still finding these things and honestly, they're scary. He writes about alien species and something about the 'Disciples', and this woman from his dreams is like convincing him of something that has to be done -- but what?? What is my brother hiding, and why won't he tell me?? And who is this woman??

This feels like some sort of fever dream. I hope to all shit I wake up soon.

 JANUARY 14th, 1961.

Diego,

You know how I said that this is like a fever dream? Yeah, well today sort of solidified that.

I picked up Ellis from school today, for the first time -- Livingston never allowed me before, but the time aligned with my monthly dress outing, and Aimee was sweet and let me go. Which is a whole other thing -- but not what I'm focused on.

We were walking and I was complaining, you know the USUAL, and then we passed this group of like, old women?? I didn't really pay attention until they started talking about this strange dude with magical powers. Like, we're talking levitating and telekeneesis (sp??) and shit?? I thought they were just on like, sixties edition acid, but then they were talking about tattoos. And doesn't your brother have tattoos??? They said some random name, I didn't recognise it but...I don't know. I didn't catch all of it and of course, Ellis wasn't listening (thanks, pal) but I feel a little more hopeful about this.

I wish I could send mail, but I don't really have anywhere to send it and I have to run everything through Livingston. Telling him I'm trying to get in touch with my almost-brother-in-law that I don't really remember or know well but I heard a bit of so like, maybe he's here doesn't sound that great. So I'm just waiting and holding out on the hope that maybe, you're here too.

I wonder if you're looking for me, too. I hope so.

I love you.
 Elodie. 

FEBRUARY 18th, 1961.

Today wasn't bad. Which is saying it was awful, but at least I wasn't left with aches and bruises and the desire to cause like, mass fires.

Livingston was nice, which was like...terrifying. Seriously, I got called into his office and I thought I was done for. I mean after our last fight, I was ready for anything. But he was weirdly in a compliments mood. Told me that he was very impressed with the work I was doing for him, and that he 'greatly valued' my time in his household, that he wasn't sure how he functioned before I came in. Aka, he's proud that I'm not talking back to him, and that he thinks my silence is me submitting to his bullshit.

I'm not, but I'll let him think otherwise. I'd rather that while I wait out my time.

It's weird having such short winters. Back home it would still be snowing but here I'm already wearing my short sleeve dresses again, and I feel like I'm playing a role. Like none of this is even real. Sure I'm always running hot but never running around in a dress in FEBRUARY. I don't know if I like it or not.

Ellis is doing well in school, though I'm not surprised. He placed first in his science fair exhibit and Livingston was over the moon about it (no surprises there). He did something about LED lights - he told me it was a prototype. But, and I don't remember much about history, but I didn't think such things were even around during these times. I don't know, he told me it was fine, but all the gadgets he's pulling out, they don't seem like the things everyone else has. I'm scared he's gonna screw up. Maybe he already has.

I miss you, and I never thought I could miss someone like this. It feels gross. Like I gotta shower and watch this funk off - but no matter how I scrub, the feelings still sink deep into my skin and I'm stuck in this grey area of bitterness. I want to go home and be happy again. I worked SO hard on getting to a good place and being happy again, and now the universe takes that all away? I'm starting to wonder if I'm just never going to be happy again.

If you're out there Diego, I hope you're okay. I hope you're alive.

I'm scared that I'd never know if you weren't. If this is just it. I'll never know if you're alive or if it's just me and Ellis who made it through, if this is my hell for all the stuff I did before. But the world wouldn't do that, right?? Why would some god let you all go, for me??

You're out there.

Right?

Fuck.

MARCH 5th, 1961.

Today I talked more with Aimee on our monthly shopping trip — which weirdly, I look forward to now. I never liked going out before, it was so stressful and I hated the crowds, but I look forward to the hustle and bustle now. It's my one escape — and with Aimee, things are at least a bit easier.

I almost slipped up today though. I don't think she caught it, but I nearly forgot that Ellis was my son here and told her I didn't want kids of my own, and that confused her. But I covered it up and it led to a really good conversation between us, like we were actually friends. She told me about how her husband wants them to try for a baby, but she's been struggling with infertility and wonders if she'll ever have a kid of her own. I felt bad...I mean, if she is my Grandmother, and at that point I'm pretty sure she is I know she has A kid and he's a right devil, but Aimee here seems sweet, and genuinely good-hearted. She's not her father's daughter, she's more than that and I weirdly want her to have a kid. I mean how the hell could someone actually have a kid as evil as my dad?

Maybe he's a fucking alien. Who knows!

But it was nice. And she told me that she actually looks up to me as a mother, which felt nice. I mean, I'm not really a mom but sometimes it feels like he's my own, and I've tried so hard to give him a good life like I guess some parents do...so it was nice. Made me feel like I'm maybe doing something right here.

Ellis has been sweet lately. We've been spending more time together, which is nice. He'll come into my room to do his homework, and I'll work on stuff, mending and the like (jeez, I feel so old, sewing like my Grandmother) and we've gotten close again. I love him. I just want him to trust me with whatever's on his mind...hopefully he will, soon.

He told me today he knows you're still out there — not thinks, knows. So I guess you got Ellis' vote of confidence going for you, my love.

- Lucy

APRIL 29th, 1961.

I take back everything I've ever said about Livingston. He's twice as bad as all that.

He had his biweekly dinner party today. Only this time, I wasn't allowed to be in the room. Normally he needs me to serve and refill glasses and the like, but he refused this and gave me the rest of the evening off, so long as I didn't come near that area of the house. Which obviously I did anyways.

It was him and ten, maybe eleven other men, all dressed to the nine and each more sketchy then the last. They were in there for HOURS. And I've never heard Livingston so stressed. Usually he's put together and he never drops that stupid fake grin but today, he was yelling and snappy and stressed the fuck out. Talking about all this garbage, I didn't understand half the things that was coming out of his mouth. I couldn't hear most of it unfortunately, but the stuff I heard?! Aliens and the space race and weird terms I didn't understand, like I was listening to a comic book come to life. 

They also wouldn't shut up about JFK. I don't know much about that guy, but I do know about his death...so I don't know what Livingston is up to, but maybe JFK wasn't so great of a guy.

The moral of the story is, I may be living in the house of a like, cult leader or some shit, and I really should have paid attention in history class.

Also — Ellis is hiding more from me than I thought. He dropped something the other day, and I couldn't get all of it before he left, but I saw the designs -- they were INTENSE. Some sorta machine, all these buttons and notes about travel safety and vikings, or something? I don't know but there was a 'v' word thrown around a lot. He got really pissed when I tried to question him, and I told him we'd talk later. 

Man, I forgot how moody teenagers are. How do I deal with a genius one?!

MAY 31st, 1961.

Today was strange. I can't understand it still. I  feel wrong. And upset, and angry — but at myself or who else, I don't know.

It was one of Livingston's dinner parties today. This time I could go. He wanted me there, talking about how great I was to a bunch of his 'friends' — gross, but I do it every time. It's a little easier to handle now, in hoping that there's a point to his fuckery.

But after serving supper, I left and sort of lingered outside the dining room, outside the entrance to Livingston's library. I was alone, just standing there, waiting for lightning to smite me down or something. But then this guy came out of nowhere, and we bumped into each other, both of us looking for a way out of the hubbub, I guess.

I didn't want to talk much, but he was nice about it. Asked about me — not me as a housekeeper, me as Lucy. Which was weird. His name was Ben Bayard, the younger brother of Charles, Aimee's husband. He didn't want to go to dinner, he only went out of obligation, but apparently he hates these big ordeals.

We talked for a while (more than I was supposed to) and it was nice. But the entire time, I couldn't stop thinking about Diego. About the life I left behind, and how as this man tried to awkwardly flirt (holy crap was he bad about it — it was kinda sweet) I wanted to cry.

Is this the life that I have now? Am I supposed to settle down? He was nice, and truly seemed like a good guy, which is a first. And he was greatly interested in me, even as Lucille the Housekeeper. But I don't know if I want to move on. Should I? Would it be better for Ellis and myself? Is this my way out of this hellhole? And what if there is still hope out there, and I'm throwing it away for nothing?

I don't know why I'm writing this. I just feel so alone and this is my only outlet, writing for a man that's not there to read it. It's a diary of a lost little girl who no longer has anyone to lean on. I'm so lonely.

Ben was nice. He wants to meet again. I told him I wasn't really out much, code for I wasn't allowed much. But he said he'd be at the next dinner, and he'd like to chat then. And I said yes, because maybe, that's it for me.

I miss Diego. I miss it all. Charlie, Firebird's, Ellis — the Ellis I knew before, not the troubled secretive boy who won't even look me in the eye. I'm tired of feeling secondhand and worthless. I had so much good and it's all gone, and I'm just a trophy to push to the back of the shelf.

I don't think I'm going to sleep much tonight. I also think I should stop writing these...but maybe not. I'll just write my thoughts, as therapy — if I can do anything, maybe that's that. I don't want to lose control, and these notes is what holds me together, so I suppose it cannot be all that bad.

I just want to be called Elodie again. Even Ellis doesn't call me that much anymore.

I'm starting to wonder what the point of coming back was.

- Lucy

I really like this chapter. It's probably my favourite out of them all, to be honest. I hope it was easy enough to follow and the time span and such makes sense here. :)

Please note now, I am not Stephanie Meyer, and this will NOT be a love triangle. No 'Team Diego' and/or 'Team Ben'. I don't want to write that and the next part you'll see why it's not at all going to spin that way -- but regardless, this book is sticking with my dear dummy Diego and not falling towards Ben. Same towards Lila, she'll stand as her own fleshed out character, but it won't develop into him having to choose between them.

Thank you for reading; let me know what you thought!