THE BEGINNING

I'm a little O.D.D
And I see the way they look at me
I can hear when they talk that trash
Saying "any minute she gon' crack"

***

CHAPTER I

*****

I HAD NEVER really been the type to run away from my problems. I liked to face everything head on because conflict didn't scare me. I supposed growing up in an environment where, at times, 'conflict' — to put it lightly — was inevitable made me indifferent to it instead of fearing it. Although some would say that my approach to said problems were extreme and impulsive, until now my approach had worked so I stuck to it.

Unfortunately, none of my usual methods could do anything to get me out of the pickle I found myself in now. I only really had two options; one being to go about my life as if nothing had happened and wait for everything to die down and the other being to pack up my belongings and flee town.

The latter was my preference as I had always hated the small, stupid town that I lived in anyway and wanted nothing more than to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. But I had to be realistic. I had no money to my name and a minimal set of life skills that wouldn't get me very far if I were to up and leave.

As much as I hated it, the logical answer was to stay here because I had an advantage here. I had a roof over my head with no other payments to worry about but utilities here. I would leave someday when I had a bit more to show for myself and a leg to stand on, but not any time soon.

That left the other option.

Grin and bear it essentially. It was hard to ignore the stares I received when I dared to walk the streets of Redwood and hearing the gossip that spread around about me made me want to rip my hair out of my scalp, but I knew the absolute best thing I could do was act like I saw nothing and move on. Soon, everyone else would too. Right? I knew that trying to acknowledge anything or even push back would only further fuel said gossip so despite my annoyance, I kept my lips sealed.

I tried my darndest to avoid the residents of Redwood as much as I could and, for a while, it had worked until I had been given a job in a popular bookstore located in the most popular part of town — the shopping district. It was a surprise that I had even managed to get a job at such a high end place like The Next Page, considering how infamous I had become but I supposed it was good press for them. I could already picture the tabloid headlines. 'Sympathetic bookstore owner hires grieving daughter; gives her a new lease on life.' Pathetic.

Granted, it was my fault for picking one of the most popular places in town to work my first job. Sue me. I tried packing grocery store shelves for a week and I about plucked all the lashes from my eyelids so I decided to work in a place I actually liked and that didn't knock years off my life expectancy. That came with a cost though.

“I know you,” the middle aged, redhead I was serving had said, her green eyes narrowed to scrutinise my appearance. “You're that Morgan girl, aren't you?” she asked, making me point to the badge pinned into my black shirt.

“The proof's on the name tag,” I said with a half smile, trying to ease the tension but it didn't seem to have worked. I could tell that behind her eyes were a thousand questions that she knew better than to ask. I worked silently, logging in her returned books to the system so I could process her refund while she continued to scrutinise me with her gaze. Finally, I handed her back her old receipt before pointing to the card reader. “You can just tap your card now.”

“Thank you so much,” she said, having the decency to at least fake a smile this time as she took her purse out of her bag and reached for her credit card to tap it. “I just wanted to ask, how are you doing? I mean, what happened must have been awful and I can't even begin to imag—”

“I'm fine,” I said, cutting her off with a cordial smile before walking away after giving her the new receipt. I pulled along with me a trolley full of books to make it seem like I had other things that I needed to do so I didn't look like I was just walking away and didn't look back as I disappeared out of view, into the storage room.

Interactions like these, to my misfortune, weren't rare. Matter of fact, they happened more times since I started working than I had fingers and toes to count on. And I had only been here a month. The storage room had become my best friend within a matter of days.

I busied myself with packing out the new books in an effort to move on from the nosy woman. Even though things like this happened a lot, I still couldn't bring myself to get used to it. Each new situation was like the last one in the sense that it always found a way to get on my last nerve.

I wished people would stop asking me about it; stop talking about. All I wanted to do was move on, but until someone else died, my dad's passing would remain the talk of the town. Everyone would continue to walk on eggshells around me until something else more interesting happened. Then, I would fade back into the background, forgotten about and tossed to the side like I was used to. Like I wanted. I couldn't wait.

Here's to someone else dying.

“Do you need a hand?” my coworker had said as she sidled up to me, snapping me out of my thoughts and bringing my attention to her instead.

I had only shrugged in response, which, I guessed, she took as me saying yes as she began helping me, carefully taking a handful of books in an effort to not damage any of her perfectly manicured long, pink nails and bringing them to their designated spot. After a couple of silent minutes ticked by us, Nika, my coworker, had picked up the courage to speak to me again.

“So...” she trailed off, making me cast her an expectanct look, “you doing anything after work today?”

For a brief second, I had wondered why she was trying to make casual conversation with me when we had never really spoken before but then I remembered this is what people did. I supposed the fact that I had been working a month already and just barely knew a handful of the other employees wasn't a great thing, but I wasn't the socially-inclined type. I had been at some point in my life, but like everything else, I had changed. Adapted, if you will. I wasn't in the market for new friends so I didn't see a point in needless small talk.

“No,” was all I said, hoping she would get the message and leave it there but I could never be that lucky.

Nika turned to look at me, a confused look on her face as she pushed her long, straight brown hair out of her face. I wondered why she wouldn't just tie it up. “You're not going to the party?” she asked to which I shook my head.

She didn't have to specify which party she was talking about because, for once, I was actually clued in. It was hard not to be. The party was considered the biggest party hosted in Redwood and it only happened once a year, each one trying to top the last. It had originally started out as a bunch of college students all gathering together around the beginning of summer to kick off the start of their break after writing their finals.

It soon became more than that where an elected host would rent the biggest house they could — if they didn't live in one big enough — and anyone within college-going age was allowed to attend. It became a sort of rite of passage for those who just graduated high school and were going to be freshmen in college that same year and the seniors that were most likely done with schooling all together to start their careers with their hard-earned degree.

I couldn't help but let out a short breath of laughter at her question. “I'm not much of a party person,” I answered.

I had made the decision that I wouldn’t be going long before it had become the latest buzz of the town. Parties were just not my scene. They often played music that was way too loud in a space that was way too tight and forgive me for not finding anything remotely appealing about being surrounded by cognitively-impaired idiots.

Drunk people were already a nuisance to society and somehow, I had to go hang around them for fun? There was nothing fun about that. I could think of a million and one other places I would rather be than put my safety and wellbeing at jeopardy for a party. Plus, it wasn’t like I had any friends either. I would just be going to stand in the corner like a weirdo watching everyone else have fun. Even being at home sounded more appealing than whatever I would be doing at a party and being at home was hell at this point in time.

“Me neither but my friends convinced me to go last year and I actually had so much fun,” she said, maybe in an effort to change my mind or maybe to just carry on the conversation. I wasn't sure. “That's where I met my ex-boyfriend who was still with his ex-girlfriend at the time and he—”

I let her continue talking while I let my mind wander, throwing in the occasional "wow" and "really?" so she wouldn't think that I was ignoring her. In actuality, I was busy still thinking about this party. Why didn't I want to go really? Because I wasn't a party person or because I had resigned myself to this fate from my past situation? It was easy for me to say that parties weren't my scene and that's why I didn't go to them when parties never could've been my scene. Mike kept such a tight leash on me, only allowing me to be at two places; school or at home. The repercussions for daring to join an after-school activity were so much that I knew not to even bring up parties. I didn't have to learn the hard way. I didn't want to. But Mike wasn't here anymore. I now had free reign over my life; I could do whatever I wanted to do whenever I wanted to do it.

What did I want to do?

“Which was totally unfair because he—”

“So you're going to the party?” I asked Nika, cutting her off from whatever she was saying that I clearly hadn't been listening to.

“Yeah, I'm going,” she answered, her gloss-covered lips stretching into a reassuring smile as her brown eyes settled on me. “If you change your mind about coming, just send me a text and we can meet up.”

***

Time seemed to fly by after my conversation with Nika had ended, allowing me to use my work as a temporary distraction from all that was going on and from myself as well. Much sooner than I would've liked though, I found myself swinging my bag over my shoulder and saying goodbye to my coworkers before setting off in the direction of my home.

I couldn't help but think back to when I was a junior in highschool and had some friends to boast of. Even a boyfriend. I remembered I would crash at their place sometimes when things were particularly bad at home and I knew Mike wouldn't be sober enough to notice my absence. I never would stay the night, but I would waste the afternoon away there, even going as far as lying to Mike that I had school on days that I actually didn't so I could spend time with them.

Now, I couldn't because those people were nowhere to be seen. How fickle, it seemed, their friendship was. What was the point of even having any friends if they wouldn't even try to stick by your side? I much prefered my own company because there was no doubt about whether that would stay or go. I only had myself.

These thoughts occupied my mind during the length of my walk back home, making the distance seem shorter despite the fact that I had taken the longer route. Before I knew it, I stood in front of my house, rooting through my bag to locate my keys.

Despite the fact that Mike was gone, the same negative feeling I got whenever I entered the house remained. Maybe it was due to the fact that, no matter the length of time that passed, I couldn't ever shake the memory of finding him myself, dead, in his armchair.

Or maybe it was because I could never get a minute of fucking peace now that Mike's brother, Richard, and his entire family had taken the liberty to move themselves in. To "help me with my grief" was the reason why they did but I could see right through their bullshit. They just wanted a roof over their heads that they didn't need to pay rent for. Even if I was grieving, their infant son constantly cry at all hours of the night and their three year old daughters screaming at all hours of the day would just make me want to pluck my hair out of my scalp.

I didn't tell them to get out though because, in a way, they did keep me company. I would've probably lost my mind if I had to stay in this house all by myself. Mike was the only one I had. No mother. No brothers or sisters. Just me and my father together and my father was dead now so that left just me. They kept that realisation from dawning on me for now, so while I complained, I couldn't bring myself to do anything about it just yet. I didn't want to.

I unlocked the door, letting it swing open as I stepped into the house. Immediately, I was hit with the sound of the girls screaming and giggling as they ran around the sitting room in circles. Richard must've been out at the construction site, so that left Ruth, his wife, alone to mind the kids. Not finding the strength in me to deal with the twins, I had made a beeline for the steps after locking the door behind me, not looking back until I was safely within the confines of my room with my door locked behind me where no one could bother me anymore.

I allowed myself to collapse into my desk chair, taking note of how uncomfortable and worn the ten year old chair was before letting my appearance in my mirror capture my attention. I looked like a gremlin to put it simply and I briefly wondered how people felt comfortable enough to even converse with me.

My shoulder-length hair, stained a copper-brown colour, lacked shine and volume like it used to in my youth when it had been much healthier. At this moment in time, it only served as a painful reminder of how long it used to be before Mike had cut it all off as punishment. I still remembered that day so vividly; being accused of whoring around and him telling me he knew just how to solve the issue with an electric shaver in his hand. I had only been fifteen but since then, my hair never seemed to grow the same again. I was even lucky that it had grown past my ear this time, but I wasn't sure how long that was going to last until I cut it again.

My light brown eyes seemed dull and lifeless. Maybe I was making things up but it almost seemed like they were more downturned than usual; like I was sadder than usual. It was funny though because I couldn't pick out a moment in my life where I had ever really been happy to make me sad somehow right now. My skin had been so pale, it resembled one of those sickly Victorian children suffering from a particularly bad case of the bubonic plague and the dark bags under my eyes were so deep, they almost touched the tips of my lips. It was almost like I could never get enough sleep. Even in my dreams, I was fighting for my life.

There were things I could've done to improve my appearance; gain some muscle, get a tan, brush my hair, but how could I allow myself to take part in activities that I considered frivolous? That was what I asked myself any time I caught myself staring too long at a dress through a shop-window or admiring the wide collection of makeup at the local beauty supply store. When it still felt like I was in survival mode — like I had one hundred and ten things I needed to do before I could finally be comfortable and happy — how could I allow pointless things like vanity take up any amount of my time? No matter how insignificant that time was?

The effect of how I presented was not lost on me. I felt like how I looked; awful. But the truth was that I wasn't. Or, at least I was trying not to be. In time, I would do all of those things for myself but until then...

I let my thoughts bring me back to the party. What was sitting at home, lying in bed and feeling absolutely miserable going to do for me? Maybe I would get comfortable and try and read a book — one that I'd definitely already read about fifty times over, no doubt — but then I would put it down in frustration once I realised I wouldn't be able to concentrate with the sound of the kids screaming the house down because they wouldn't want to go to bed. I would spend the rest of the night watching pointless YouTube videos until I eventually fell asleep only to do the exact same shit the next day.

Perhaps the party wouldn't have been any much better for me than staying home, but it would've broken up the monotony a little bit and that's what I needed right now. A break.

Plus, it would've been like a big 'fuck you' to Mike. Me sticking up my middle finger to the dead man that was probably floating somewhere at this point. How fucking pathetic that was but I'd take my wins wherever I could get them. I would go to this party to take my mind off everything that was going on and also to rub it in Mike's stupid face that he was dead now and I could do whatever the fuck I wanted. I would say he was rolling in his grave, but I couldn't afford to bury him so he was definitely somewhere; probably in the North Atlantic ocean and his ashes were kicking rocks along the sea bed or something.

Even if most people would be drunk at this point, drunk people weren't that bad if I was equally as intoxicated as them and it wasn’t like I had work the next day. What was the worst that could happen?

I got onto my feet, making a beeline across my room to the closet and picked out the first clean outfit I could find and got dressed. The outfit wasn’t anything fancy because I didn’t own anything fancy but it consisted of my nicest pair of wide-leg, low-rise dark denim jeans and a navy oversized hoodie thrown over my cropped, graphic tee like usual. I had tried to brush my wavy hair and applied a bit of lip balm as well as a good dollop of hand cream before picking up my purse, my phone and my keys and exiting my room.

By the time I had made my way down the stairs, Richard was allowing himself in through the door. Immediately his eyes had fallen on me, but I had paid him no mind as I made a beeline for my shoes that sat by the door.

He remained silent for a minute, standing by the door of the entrance and watching me like a creep before, finally, he spoke up. “Where are you going at this time?” he asked, making me roll my eyes before turning to him to give him a fake smile.

“Somewhere,” was all I answered, which earned me a disapproving hum from him as he looked me up and down. I knew if he had any power over me, he would have made me walk all the way back up to my room and made sure I didn’t come out until the next morning. Lucky for me, he had none. It was no longer like how it used to be.

“Don’t make noise when you come back… if you come back,” he said, not bothering to hide the disapproval in his tone as he continued to eye me. “You know how the girls are.”

“Yeah, I know how the girls are,” I said, rolling my eyes and this time letting him see it so he could see how much I did not care about how the girls were. “I’ll be back in a bit,” was the last thing I said to him before I turned back around and stepped into the pleasant evening. I closed the door behind me, making sure to lock it before setting off on my short walk to Crestwood where I was about to attend the worst party of my life.

If only I had just stayed at home.

***

Okay, so first chapter down! How are we feeling? I know things might be going a lil slow rn but trust me. It's going to pick up real soon. I just really wanted to introduce you guys to Morgan and the... situation we're currently in with her.

Do you think you like her character already? Or are you over it? When is the main love intetest going to show up?

Also, I'm happy to be back! I know I disappeared so unexpectedly for idek how long. Trust me, I didn't expect it either but I had a lot on my plate working a job I hated (dw it was not McDonald's) while also juggling school. I would say it was one of my lowest moments because I had lost so much of myself; I didnt even know who I was anymore. I had even stopped writing; stopped reading; stopped everything.

I've since left the job and I'm trying not to let school consume me so here I am trying to pick back the pieces of myself. I hope I'm doing a decent job of it.

Updates may not be consistent as I'm only just getting back into writing and editing but I'll do my best. Not just for yall but for myself too.

Okay well see you next update! And Merry Christmas yall ❤️❤️

-Ommy xx