got a lot to learn;

“It was probably fucking Siobhan.” Lucy huffed out in disbelief, bright orbs scanning their surroundings before settling upon Ingrid, “Was she a brunette? Ridiculously tall and annoyingly gorgeous? Like looked like a supermodel?” Thankfully she still had a couple of cigarettes stashed into her bra, plopping one between her lips before cursing, realizing her lighter was in the aforementioned purse, “You wouldn’t happen to have a light on ya, would ya? The name’s Lucy by the way.”

“I’m not a good person to question about height, basically everybody is stupidly tall to me but yeah- she was really hot, brown hair,” she confirmed, “You know her?” she asked as she cocked her head, trying to understand the circumstances. Has this girl been robbed or was a friend of hers playing a prank? Either way, it wasn’t really Ingrid’s problem. “Uhhh, don’t think so,” she confessed, though she still dug around in her purse just in case. It wasn’t unlike her to unintentionally slip a lighter into her own bag after fiddling around with it at a party or club, if she could get into it. “Ingrid,” she responded, still mostly occupied by her purse, “Nah, sorry- no light,” she shrugged her shoulders, realising she hadn’t been very helpful at all, with anything Lucy had needed. 

“Did you see someone pass by with a bright red clutch? I just got my fucking wallet stolen and it had everything in there…My phone, my cards, cash, coke, keys. I’m so fucking fucked.”

@slchat​

“Shit, for real? I literlly just saw a girl getting into a car- I don’t know if it was an Uber or a private car but she was going through a red clutch pretty frantically. It looked more like she lost something than stole the whole thing but now I don’t know,” she confessed, looking up the street a moment later. “It went that way, black Chevy SUV, I don’t know what kind, I’m not really good with models but I’d know it if I saw it again,”

“Unbelievable.” Maya scoffed dramatically, frustrated. “This is the third time a homeless person asked me for money.” Her eyes rolled before turning to the nearest person. “Do I look like I am running a fucking charity?”

Ingrid hadn’t expected the attitude of the woman speaking to her and her eyebrows instinctively lifted, giving away her surprise before she could even attempt to conceal it. “You don’t seriously think you’re that special, do you?” she responded, waiting for the punchline if there was one. “I mean, for one, you live in Los Angeles, it’s kind of expected and two homeless people literally ask anybody and everybody for money, they need all the help they can get. I don’t think they took a second to think about you personally, babe,” 

“On a scale of 1 to 10, how convinced are you that this place is actually haunted?” Johnny asks as he sucks through the straw in his coke at Ready Player One. He’s already smashed through $5 worth of quarters on Space Invaders to try and get the top score and had decided to take a quick break at the bar, mostly to give his fingers a break. Smashing buttons was hard work.

@slchat​

As the older male questioned her, Ingrid’s thoughts drifted to a recent conversation she’d had with her brother. One that had involved discussing the profitability of a haunting, regardless of whether it was real or not. With that in mind, she decided to try and prove her own theory; gassing up the paranormal happenings in the arcade to see if it paid off with publicity and profit. Using everything she’d learned in drama class as a junior in high school, she got into character, “I feel kind of weird talking about this stuff,” she confessed, her eyes shifting as if she was nervous about the mere mention, “I mean, you’re not going to judge me, are you? It just that I’ve had some....experiences. Some strange ones. Ones I can’t explain and I’ve never really talked about it with anybody...I’m not sure I even know how to,”

That was it, then. Ingrid wanted him to stop seeing Holland. She was the only one who had been honest, who had told him what she wanted. She hadn’t said if you cared you wouldn’t have asked us to make you choose. And so his decision was made. And it hurt. He nodded. 

“Okay. I will.” He couldn’t tell her that it wasn’t possible. As unfair as it was to him, as much as he wanted to tell Ingrid no, she would have to suck it up and deal with it, he couldn’t. Jimmy would have to make something work with Holland… see if they could come to some kind of an agreement… Anything. He had to be friends with her, at least. “I’ll stop.”

“I’m sorry I did this. To you and to Bowie and Sofia. You’ve dealt with enough this year, and I’m sorry. I’m going to apologise until I’m blue in the face and you’re sick of hearing it.”

“Okay,” she repeated the word her father had used for a lack of anything more profound or eloquent to say. In truth, her feelings were causing such a stir inside her, it was a surprise to the girl that she could conjure any words at all. She inhaled sharply, hoping that as the air filled her lungs, the anxiety in her stomach might not have any room left to grow. “That’s it, then?” she asked, meeting her father’s gaze now, as much as it pained her to do so. She didn’t accept his apology, didn’t respond to it, didn’t even give it the slightest bit of acknowledgement as the tears in her eyes, blue like her mother’s, reflected the light of her father’s office like flawless glass.

“I know. I know.” It was nice to be having a proper conversation about this, someone actually talking rather than screaming in his face about how he was dead to them and how they never wanted anything to do with him. “I made bad choices that I knew were wrong and I made them anyway. We all do it sometimes. That doesn’t excuse it but… I’m not perfect Ingrid.” 

But they don’t mean more than Holland. 

That was a complicated thing to respond to. His daughter’s feelings meant so much to him, but so did Holland’s. She’d been in his life for almost 28 years. He’d seen her grow. That was why this whole thing was fucked up. 

“I’m sorry you found out this way. I’m sorry you found out before we had a chance to figure out what this was, what was happening, what this whole thing means. Ingrid, if you want me to stop seeing her–” 

As much as this was hurting his children, Jimmy wished they could see how much this was hurting him. To have to choose between them and Holland… It was a decision he didn’t need to think about, he’d always choose his kids, but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. 

His words echoed in her mind as she remained silent for a moment or so. I’m not perfect, Ingrid. It was true enough, she supposed. He was human after all and a flawed one at that, just like the rest of them. Still, it didn’t stop her from putting her father on a pedestal or thinking of him as somewhat of a superhero. He had always been there for her, had always managed to fix things when they seemed unfixable, it was difficult, now, to think of that same man, hooking up with the girl she’d thought of like a sister for all of her life.

Her head remained bowed as Jimmy continued to apologise to her. It wasn’t the apology she wanted, not the one she thought she deserved and it didn’t mean much to the youngest Shore girl, no matter how many times he repeated it. Then, at once, her head lifted; an immediate reaction to what he’d said. “I do,” she confirmed, “I do want you to stop seeing her-  I don’t want-” she couldn’t even say it again, it left a foul taste in her mouth each time she mentioned the nature of their relationship, “I can’t stand it, I don’t think I can ever forgive her- I don’t think I can even talk to her again. I don’t want to,”

Bowie’s eyes closed as he heard that voice, his regret almost instant. He has no loyalty left for the father they share, nor does he feel any kind of bad for revealing his secret, but Ingrid deserved better than an angry, drunken older brother airing dirty laundry at a party. 

Nevertheless, he wouldn’t be another Shore who saw it fit to lie to her. 

He turns to face her, blinking a couple of times as he tries to will his mind to co-operate despite the vodka he had ingested at various points that night. This conversation needed a soft touch, and all he knew how to be was hardheaded.

“Our dad.. Has been sleeping with Holland Mitchell. For a while now. And I’m really sorry that you’re finding out like this, from me. But if he had his way, I don’t think any of us would ever have found out.” 

Another assumption, projected onto the man that shepherded them into the world to fill the void left where Bowie’s respect for him once rested. 

“I need to sit down,” happened to be the only combination of words Ingrid could utter in a rational manner as she processed what her older brother had said. She swallowed hard as she sank into the nearest seat but the lump in her throat refused to shift, feeling as if it was growing barbs and thorns instead. “I- I can’t believe it,” she wasn’t sure if she was talking to Bowie or just thinking out loud now but it didn’t seem to matter either way, “How- why would- oh my God,” she spoke nonsensically as her thoughts ran a mile a minute and her tongue tried to catch up with them without any luck. “How did you find out?”

Aspen sighed and began stroking the blondes hair in an attempt to comfort her. “I’m so sorry about everything that happened little one. I can’t begin to even… imagine how you feel…” she whispered softly and licked her lip as she pulled away. She could hear the pain in her voice, laced with the tiredness of someone who’d not slept and it broke her heart - the Shore girls had been through enough the past month to also be going through something like this, and she knew if she was in their place she’d probably feel the same. Betrayed more than anything else. “Well.. I’ve got the punching bag in the gym if you need to punch anything..” she tried to soothe the girl or just let het get it out, the same way she needed too when her parents got divorced.  When Ingrid expressed an interest in the baking she nodded. “Coffee? Tea? Lemonade? Soda? Or… Like something stronger?” she asked with a little head tilt as she walked over to her fridge.

“I.. Haven’t. Not yet anyway. And I don’t really want to speak to either of them. I’m… mad.. Mad for you and Sof and Bowie. And don’t worry - I won’t let either of them near you.” she said.  “Do you wanna do the mixing?” she asked trying to change the tone.

“If there was a word for it, I wish I knew it,” she expressed. She had a million words to touch on how she was feeling but none of them quite captured it in its very essence, she’d discovered. “I don’t even know if I have the energy to be angry anymore,” she admitted, she wanted to take a big long nap and when she awoke, she hoped that everything would have sorted itself out. It would never happen, however, she was realistic enough to know that, just not realistic enough to stop hoping for it.

“Wine?” she requested hopefully, deciding she needed something, anything to take the edge off of her emotions. When Aspen responded, she nodded her head in agreement, appreciating the solidarity, “They can’t say anything I want to hear so I’m just avoiding,” she expressed, moving toward the kitchen counter to start mixing the batter.

“That’s … fair,” Holland said. Talking sounded good. Talking sounded civilized. Holland deserved a hell of a lot less than that. She stepped back from the door to let Ingrid in to the Mitchell house, just as she’d done a hundred times before. “Come on. I just made tea if you – or water, I have –” Holland was floundering, gesturing wildly as she led Ingrid through the house, towards the kitchen. They’d sit at the kitchen table. It was where Holland had all of her big discussions, her whole life. It felt appropriate. Not too comfortable, not too structured. 

Once they got into the kitchen, Holland pulled out a chair for Ingrid and moved to the far side of the table, giving the girl ample room to sit. “I uh – I can –” Holland turned to go get a glass to give Ingrid some water, and to get some for herself. This was going to be rough. While Holland couldn’t offer Ingrid anything stronger – there was nothing left in the house – she would give her that. At the very least, they’d both have something to do with their hands. 

“Here.” Holland set the water down in front of the girl. 

“We can – you can – I can tell you anything you want. I’m not going to lie to you, Ingrid. I don’t know what your dad did or didn’t tell you, but I’m – I’m not going to lie. Anything you want to know, anything you want to say, I’m here to – to –”  What? Help? That didn’t seem like the right word. Holland swallowed back the rest of her sentence and sat down, staring into her glass. 

“Ingrid, I’m so sorry. I didn’t do anything to purposefully hurt anyone, especially you. I know that I did, but I never wanted to. That’s not what this was ever about.” 

Ingrid simply shook her head in response to Holland’s hospitality. While she would have appreciated the effort on any other occasion, right now she felt to inside to even imagine trying to stomach tea or water or anything else for that matter. She followed the older girl’s lead and took a seat, allowing her legs to simply buckle beneath her as she fell into the frame of the chair obediently. She had trailed to Holland’s apartment to yell and scream and curse at her for ruining her family, she’d wanted to throw things, throw punches, inflict as much pain and hurt on Holland as she had suffered at her hand.

Now, instead, she sat quietly with all the gall of a naughty school girl in the pricipal’s office, waiting for a parent to arrive. Ingrid allowed the glass of water to sit idly in front of her. She understood the intention of the gesture but she remained certain that if she took even a little sip, she might throw up on the dining table from the shear anxiety of it all. “Don’t-” she cut her off, shaking her head again, “I am so, so sick of being apologised to for my feelings,” she insisted, “I don’t want to hear that you’re sorry I’m upset, I want you to be sorry for what you did,” she was surprised that the first words she had managed to speak were so bold but she went with it. She sat up a little straighter, her spine lengthening with confidence she didn’t realise she had until she’d started to voice her thoughts aloud. “I just don’t understand it- I just don’t understand why,” she explained, “You knew- you had to know how much this would hurt everybody so why? Why did you do it? Why did you let it get this far and come to this? When did you think about us- about me and how much it would hurt me and when you did, why wasn’t it enough? I just don’t understand,” she uttered almost desperately. Her father had apologised to her too, he’d said much of what Holland had already said but it didn’t make things any clearer. 

Holland had only been home for twenty hours. Less than that. She’d barely unpacked her backpack, hadn’t showered, hadn’t adjusted to being back in her house, instead of a dinky little hotel room just north of Malibu. She’d come home expecting to be alone for a long time, expecting that every single person she knew – all the Shores, Aspen, Matthew, most anyone who knew her – wanted nothing to do with her. Which was incredibly, unbelievably fair. She wanted nothing to do with herself, either. 

So when someone knocked on the door, when someone crossed the gate to her parents home, came into her space, sourced her out, Holland was very fucking surprised. She edged towards the door, nervous, wishing Jimmy was around to face whoever it was first. Holland had heard rumours of what nastiness was waiting for her, now that news of her affair had spread to the entirety of Silver Lake, but she hadn’t expected to face it so soon, and alone, and at her house. 

It’s Ingrid. 

Oh.

Holland nearly tripped over her own feet, all but tumbling into the heavy door that separated her and the younger girl. Ingrid was just about the last person she was expecting. Out of everyone who could’ve approached her, Ingrid was … fuck. Ingrid was Ingrid. Ingrid was still sweet, tiny, wonderful Ingrid. 

And Holland had downright ruined her fucking life.

Holland was perhaps least prepared to face Ingrid, of all the people who could’ve landed themselves at her door. Holland would’ve sooner faced one of the women who’d come up with such creative, wonderfully humanizing nicknames for her over the past week. At least Holland was used to bullying. Breaking a kid’s heart, though, ruining her trust – Holland had never sunk so low. Facing that was just as hard as Holland thought it’d be. Harder. And she hadn’t even seen Ingrid yet. 

She hovered by the door, nervous to open it. But Holland did. She had to. She wouldn’t leave Ingrid waiting, wouldn’t leave her out in the metaphorical cold.

Holland pulled the door open halfway, just far enough so she could see a very obviously distraught Ingrid. “Hi,” Holland said gently, then pulling the door open the rest of the way. She gripped it tightly, her furrowed brows showing deep concern. “You’re here.” It sounded part question, part statement. Holland took in a long, slow, grounding breath. “Do you want to come inside?” 

Holland didn’t know if Ingrid wanted to talk, shout, cry, fight, whatever, but Holland knew she’d give the girl whatever she wanted, whatever she needed. If Ingrid was there to shove a fucking pile of shit in her face, Holland would stand there and take it. 

“Yeah,” Ingrid breathed out meekly, her eyes wide as they wandered Holland’s form. She was here and Holly was there. Holly was there, just the same as she had been for a large portion of Ingrid’s life. Her familiar features, the shine of her red hair, her pale, clear skin. She still looked like the same Holland she’d always known, not the two headed monster Ingrid had somehow expected to answer the door that afternoon. Why did that make it so much harder? If Holly had appeared in the frame of the doorway like a Disney villain, smoking a long cigarette and laughing in Ingrid’s face at her pitiful little family and their sad broken home, she’d still have the rage build inside her to yell and scream at Holland...but where was that rage now? She swallowed hard, feeling as if she was no longer standing on her own two feet, her legs had turned to jell-o, along with her conviction and fortitude. “I want to talk to you,” she explained, whether that answered the question or not, she nodded her head to confirm that yes, she wanted to do this inside.

“I didn’t throw away my relationship. Please don’t think that,” Jimmy quickly interjected. His voice wasn’t harsh, it was soft as it always was. He was tired. So very tired. “I did everything I could to fix my relationship with your Mom. Everything. She was the one who chose to end it. We both fought for that relationship but it wasn’t working. It wouldn’t work.”

Somehow, hearing Ingrid call him a sad, pathetic, creepy old man was worse than Bowie punching him in the face. That was what his children really thought of him, wasn’t it? 

He dipped his head, looking at his desk, jaw clenched, breathing through his nose as he tried not to get so upset in front of Ingrid. He never wanted any of his children to see him like this, upset, almost crying, beaten up. What on earth had happened?

“Your feelings mean the world to me, Ingrid. Yours, and Sofia’s, and Bowie’s. They mean everything to me. I never wanted to hurt any of you. If I’d known you all would’ve been this upset believe me, please, I never would’ve done anything. I am so… so sorry.”

“Maybe you didn’t mean to but it’s what you did- all of this, this comes from decisions that you made, things that you did,” she insisted, her stomach twisting in knots, curling tighter and tighter with every word that left her lips. She silenced herself then, digesting his claim. Maybe that was true, her mother had built up walls around herself, making it impossible for Jimmy to reach her. They’d both played their part but it had started with Jimmy.

She watched her father’s head bow and she wondered what was going through his mind. Was he ashamed? Frustrated? Did he have regrets? “-but they don’t mean more than Holland,” she stated plainly, without questioning inflection though the context demanded an answer from the man in front of her. “I want to believe you Dad but...I just don’t,” she confessed. He could tell her he was sorry a thousand times and it wouldn’t make her feel any different. “I don’t think you’re sorry for what you did. I think you’re sorry you got caught,” 

“No, I absolutely hear what you’re saying. I would be upset too. There’s a lot of change in your life but I want to help you to understand what is happening, why it’s happened.” Jimmy tried to explain. This was perhaps the most rational discussion he’d had so far about the situation and for that he was grateful. 

“I told you I wanted to tell you, that I was going to tell you when I knew exactly what was happening, what this… relationship was turning into. I have never lied to you, Ingrid. I didn’t cheat on your Mom. I have always been incredibly faithful to her. This… thing with Holland, it’s very, very new and that’s why I didn’t tell you, or Sofia, or Bowie. Because I didn’t know where it was going to go.”

Of course, Jimmy would dislike it if she ended up dating someone he knew, but surely that was different. Wasn’t it? 

“Yes it would bother me. I’m not telling you not to be bothered about this, I fully expect it. I know you’re not going to welcome this with open arms. What do you want me to say, Ingrid?”

“Not lying isn’t the same as telling the truth and that’s not what this is about anyway- the truth isn’t any better than a lie and hooking up with Holland after throwing your relationship with Mom down the toilet isn’t better than cheating on her, it’s just all bad and you don’t get any merit points for any of it,” she insisted, “It’s way too late to earn back any favor with me or Sof or Bowie, you already screwed that up the moment you thought about Holly like some sad, pathetic, creepy old man,” not that Holland was any better but Ingrid wasn’t even convinced she was going to ever talk to the redhead again. If she had her way, Holland would evaporate into thin air or get sucked into a black hole and Ingrid would never have to think about her for the rest of her life. That would be just fine, she thought. Her father, however, was different. She could try her best but it was more difficult to avoid him forever, there were things that needed to be said. 

“You wanted to tell me but you didn’t- you didn’t because you know how fucking weird it is and you knew how upset I would be and so you didn’t tell me. You knew. You expected and you did it anyway. I want you to say that your daughter’s feelings actually mean something to you- that fucking over your whole family;  betraying your kids, the mother of your daughters, the people who respected you or looked up to you- I want you to say that it wasn’t worth it for one girl,” she practically growled at the man, her chest aching more and more with every syllable that left her dry throat and lips. 

Aspen had gone over to Mila’s and was back before Ingrid came over, but Aspen didn’t worry, Ingrid knew where the spare was and pretty much lived here when she was invited over anyway so this would just be an extension of this. Before she’d met Tyler and started on Sadie, they had way more sleepovers back then than now, but she still loved having the blonde over, and she would try her best to make it as fun as she could.

She was in the kitchen weighing out different elements to her lemon squares when she heard Ingrid come in. “I’m in the kitchen.” she called out before she saw the girl enter and put everything down rushing over and cuddling her. “Hey little one.. You okay?” she knew it was a stupid question, but she wanted to check in on the girl. “I’m making my lemon squares.. Wanna help? OR I could just make you a drink and you can sit and watch and scroll through my socials?”

She wrapped her arms around Aspen the moment she felt the older girl’s comforting embrace. Though she had heard her question, it took Ingrid a moment or so to find the right answer because in truth, it was hard to say, “Not really,” she confessed sincerely, a moment of vulnerability that was reserved for her closest friend. “I don’t even know how I feel, I just- I’m mad and hurt and totally grossed out but I don’t know if I want to cry or punch something,” or someone, she thought as she slid her bag off of her shoulder and onto the floor before rolling up her sleeves, “How about you make me a drink and I’ll give you a hand with the lemon squares? I wanna do something distracting,” she expressed, deciding that perhaps now was the perfect time to take up a new, time consuming hobby and if any, baking was a pretty good one.

“Have you talked to him? Or her?” she asked curiously, unsure if she wanted to know how it went if Aspen had spoken to Jimmy or Holland.

“Ingrid, stop! Please.” Jimmy started, shocked at how his daughter was talking to him; she’d never told him to shut up before, she’d never spoke with such hatred in voice before. 

This is the worst thing you’ve ever done to any of us.

That one was tough. To Ingrid, this was worse than gambling away her college fund, than having to sell the house. This was the worst thing? Jimmy was baffled. His mouth fell open as she continued, unable to believe she was still spewing this stuff. 

“Ingrid, please. Listen to me. Please.” Jimmy got to his feet, taking a step towards his daughter. “Sweetheart, don’t do this.”

“You want to talk but you don’t want to have to listen to what I want to say? Right? Yeah, cool. Once again, you just want everything your way,” he wanted to have his family and he wanted to have a twenty-something year old fling but he couldn’t have it all, Ingrid had decided.

“I’m not doing anything, you’ve already done it. You’ve done enough for both of us. You get to do whatever you want and I don’t get to react to it- don’t. Do not, touch me. What did you think anybody was going to say, Dad? That we’d all just be cool with it? Or were you just hoping to keep it your dirty little secret forever?” she asked the questions but she wasn’t convinced that she actually wanted the answers to them. “How would you feel if I started dating one of your friends? Or your co-workers? Why don’t I just go to another agency and hook up with the oldest  manager in the office? Would that bother you?”

As soon as the door opened, Ophelia could tell. This wasn’t the Inzie she adored to pieces, the expression on her face was different, like the sadness had settled in. God, if James was anywhere around here she’d punch the shit out of him. “I do. I’m sorry —” She murmured softly, guessing that it was Bowie who took over the difficult task of telling everyone. Unable to control herself, the blonde took a step forward, “Come here.” she said, pulling her cousin into a gentle embrace. “I know nothing I say will make things better, and trust me, I’m so mad, but I’m not going anywhere, okay? And if you don’t want him coming anywhere near you, just tell me. I’ll kick his ass, so hard.” 

The relief that Ingrid had felt moments before hand only grew as soon as Phe started speaking. Before she could even realize what he was doing, she fell into the older woman’s embrace instinctively, wrapping her arms around her and hugging her back tightly. She closed her eyes for a moment, squeezing them shut as if she could will everything away, if only she tried hard enough but by the time she opened them back up again, nothing had changed and it wasn’t going to. She nodded her head in understanding, she didn’t want Ophelia going anywhere, she needed her, “I told him not to come here,” she explained, though she wasn’t sure if it meant that Jimmy really would stay away, it wasn’t as if he’d ever given up on Ingrid before.

“I’m going to Aspen’s house for a few days- I don’t know how long. I just need to get away from shit for like twenty-four hours- not you, just...everything else. I can’t talk to Mom or Sof without wanting to cry or punch a wall so I’m just- I don’t know, actually, I don’t know what I’m doing but I’m not staying here,”

Exhausted and overly emotional, Ingrid threw her hair into a messy bun and slung her overstuffed duffel bag over her shoulder. Inside it were enough clothes and shoes to last her at least a few days, though if she stayed on the couch in her PJs watching re-runs of old teen dramas, as she had very much planned to do, in fact, the clothes might last her a week or so.

With that, she hopped in her car and took off toward Aspen’s house, the only safe haven she could think of in what had turned out to be the biggest turmoil the Shore family had ever faced and given the year they’d already had, that was saying something. Bowie had socked their Dad, Phe was fuming, Holland was nowhere to be seen and Ingrid couldn’t bear to stay in the house, knowing that she was there because her father had thrown everything their family had once had away. 

With the recent chaos James unleashed upon the family, things were going from bad to worse. Everyone was affected differently and it broke Ophelia’s heart, knowing her cousins had to go through something like that. They didn’t deserve this, and for the firs time ever the blonde had no idea what to do and help. As far as she knows, only Bowie and her knew about this disgusting situation, though she still felt like she had to check on the youngest one, Ingrid. A part of her hoped she didn’t know anything, just in case James came to his senses. Sighing softly, the blonde walked up to the front door and knocked at the wood gently, hoping someone would be home at this hour. ( @ingrid-shore​ )

Ingrid groaned outwardly when she heard a knock at the door. Whether it was Jimmy or Holly or Bowie or anybody else involved in the mess that had thrown the Shore family into a whirlwind over the weekend, she didn’t want to see them. She tossed the t-shirt she was folding onto her bed and abandoned it there, beside a duffle bag she was filling generously so that she could leave the house without having to return for at least a couple of days. She opened the door and her muscles relaxed slightly as a sense of relief washed over her, she wasn’t upset to see her cousin, if anything, she was glad but she didn’t know what Ophelia knew or didn’t know for that matter and it worried her. “Do you know?” she asked impulsively, unable to even utter any semblance of a greeting before the words had already left her lips.