DERRY. DERRY, MAINE to be exact. There wasn't much Veronica Mills could remember about her hometown. Though, she could remember some small fluttering pieces. She remembered bike rides, adventures, curfews and broken ribs the most. She sometimes even caught a glimpse in her mind, a fleeting image of seven kids. She wasn't sure who they were, all she knew was that for  some very odd reason they felt like home.

Despite her clouded mind about her childhood, there was a number of things that would cause an ache in Veronica's chest whenever she saw or heard them. It was strange, the ache was almost as if something was missing, like a pang of nostalgia for something she's never known. Especially if asked about her upbringing, she remember nothing except a particular sense of happiness. Of feeling safe. It was a feeling she hadn't felt for a long time.

For example, there have been instances when she drives through the suburbs — coming across a group of young children, around thirteen, fourteen at the most, biking around on the streets. That caused an ache in her chest, longing and loneliness.

Another instance being, this one being the most prominent, the most aching. There was this one time when Veronica was driving to work, the car was silent for a while. But, for some reason she had began to feel uncomfortable and nervous in the threatening silence. So, she turned on the radio as you would — but, there was something about the voice that came through the radio. Something familiar, something strangely comforting. It was man, he was doing multiple impressions and they were surprisingly good. Veronica couldn't help but notice the lump that formed in her throat, how her eyes had become glassy, and how safe she felt. Her heart ached for the whole day after that.

Veronica had since moved away from Derry, now living in the bustling city of New York — much different from the sleepy streets of Witcham. She remembered that, for sure. She was a pretty woman of thirty-nine and had changed quite a bit since that one fateful summer.

The summer of 89', though, she couldn't even remember anything specific about it other than the fact that that was the summer she broke her ribs by falling out of a tree, or so she thought. At thirty-nine, Veronica was a successful youth social worker.

She had gone to school for it and developed a deep love for helping children in troubled situations, Veronica would later realize the real reason why she was so invested in her job when she visited her hometown.

Her job had become her child, she loved it. Working with children was tricky, she thought. She had to find specific ways to comfort them beyond the physical hug. Her words had become sweet and kind and forgiving. The once motormouthed girl becoming a beacon of hope to the children she was a caseworker to. Though, that didn't stop her from dropping the occasional swear around the older children she's worked with.

She was known for the cosmic connections she'd develop with the children, always finding a way to get them to open up to her in one way or another. But, she was also known for being too emotionally invested in them — she'd often have to hold back tears when she hears stories of abuse and abandonment. She'd especially be impacted when she heard stories about a father abusing his daughter, for some reason it felt too close to home.

There was this one child, thirteen year old Mason Reid McAllen. Veronica had been on his case since he was a newborn. His story was unfair, Veronica always thought. His father abandoning his mother at the news she was pregnant and his mother dying after childbirth due to complications. No relatives even willing to take him in. And, so, he was put into the hands of the state.

Veronica had watched Mason grow up, she had given him thirteen birthday gifts and dozens of lectures. She knew that Mason was getting tired, both of them knew that once he hit ten his chances of being adopted became slimmer than ever. Everyone wanted children under nine. This caused him to act out, he was rebellious and loud.

He lost his once innocent, soft spoken, shy shine Veronica had once known. He had become a teenager, thirteen years old without a mother, without a home. He'd be in and out of foster homes, his foster parents calling Veronica to complain about his slipping grades, behaviour, and vulgar words.

It had come to the point where Veronica was desperate to adopt him, she had the qualifications after all. She'd practically raised him too, she was the only person Mason truly trusted, the only person he'd listen to. But, for some odd reason, she was never even allowed to foster him.

The amount of times Veronica would come to his foster houses, it was beyond her. "Mason, you need to start behaving," She'd tell him. "Mason, I understand you're upset but you can't fight every kid in the school yard," She'd say. At those comments, Mason would often shrug his shoulder while laughing softly.

It was when Veronica was disappointed in him when he'd really listen, looking to the woman who was practically the only person who was constant in his life as he nods sadly. "Sorry," He'd respond, blinking slowly as a lump forms in his throat.

They were both lonely, Veronica had had failed relationships here and there and the only family she had was Bryce. Mason was born into a world with no one on his side. It wasn't fair to either of them. Life wasn't fair at all.

There was something about Mason, something about him which reminded Veronica of her childhood. He had this way of speaking, stuttering over his words constantly when he was nervous or scared. For some reason, Veronica was always patient with it — never irritated, as if she had known someone before with the same condition. She didn't recall anyone in her life, though.

Throughout the years, Veronica had dated casually amongst the population of New York. She'd have a few relationships but none of them ever felt right, felt real. No matter what, no matter who, it always felt wrong. She didn't know why, though. Perhaps, she was just picky, were her standards too high? She had, at this point of time, gave up on love. At least, finding her own.

She was, in fact, alone. Living alone in a beautiful New York townhouse with silent halls and wine stains on her plush white rug. She couldn't shake the feeling even if she was halfway content with her world, snapping the black hair-tie she kept on her wrist whenever she felt particularly lonely. 

Her life was of the ordinary, same routine, every single day. She was okay with it, didn't mind. But, there were instances where she wished for adventure, wished for change. She just didn't expect the change which was thrown at her twenty- seven years after the summer of 1989.

Authors Note: My girl is back! Who's excited? Anyone's heart hurt yet? Who loves Mason already? Cause I'm all of them.