lost; or simply misplaced {leah clearwater x fem!reader} masterlist
helloooo! this is my first time posting on here and i’m honestly a little nervous. especially knowing that people will actually see this but despite that i’m excited to share my work! i see a huge lack of fics about leah and i really love her character. so i thought, why not? i also want to add that leah isn’t mentioned in the first couple chapters because i want to give a background story and a build up of some sorts to when you finally meet her. but trust the process!
i will try to post new chapters every week or so, i want to be consistent. especially if people enjoy it. interact with this post to let me know if you want me to continue this story.
TAGS: TW: violence, abuse, mentions of drug and alcohol abuse, sexual themes, cursing. eventual smut, slow burn, yearning.
chapter 00: how can you belong in a place you’ve never been?
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author’s note: koda is a very intelligent dog, remember that especially when you read this chapter.
Over the next few weeks, you begin to slowly pack your belongings and move them out of the house. You can't bring everything, and honestly there's not much to bring. Your mother hasn't noticed anything—not like you expected her too. She's either too busy shooting up or being passed out on the couch to notice you carrying boxes and bags from your room.
Lav continues to work on the car, doing everything she can to make sure it safe to drive over the long distance. You and Aunt Tiny keep in touch as you talk to her about the plan. You have yet to tell her about Aaron's passing, she doesn't deserve to be told over the phone. She is persistent on talking to him, but you are more persistent with the excuses and lies that you come up with everytime.
It's still hard to believe that this is all happening.
You're finally leaving. A part of you is happy—relieved that someday you will be able to put this all behind you and grow. But a different part, a small voice in the back of your head that calls you selfish. You could've left years ago, before Aaron's death. But you didn't. You stayed, which lead to him loosing his life.
Honk! A car sounds, breaking you out of your trance as you walk in the middle of the street with Koda trailing next to you. You scowl at the car but you keep moving, adjusting heavy bag hanging on your shoulder. You step onto Lav's driveway, walking towards the open garage door. It's already August and she's damn near finished with the car, just doing a couple touch ups to reassure you don't break down in the middle of nowhere. Music flows from the garage, energetic and light. Something Brandy most likely put on to fill the silence as Lav worked.
"Hey." You say over the music, greeting Brandy from where she sits on a workbench. A cherry lollipop between her pink lips, as she moves along to the music. Koda bounds over to her, greeting her as well as he nudges her dangling legs with his wet nose.
"Hey, [Name]." Brandy grins, looking down at Koda as he gains her attention. "And hello to you too, Koda." She reaches down, petting the top of his head lovingly.
You grin at the sight, the reality slowly beginning to set in. You're going to miss Brandy—she's your best friend after all, she's always been there for you no matter what. You move over to the car, opening the door to the backseat behind the driver's side to place the last bag inside near the other boxes that couldn't fix in the trunk. You shut the door, moving over to where Brandy sits on top of the workbench. You finally notice Lav's legs sticking out underneath the car as she does some work on it.
"Was that the last of your things?" Brandy inquires, leaning up after petting Koda. The large caine whines from the loss attention, but he quickly decides to get some attention from Lav instead as he patters over to her. He nudges her leg before plopping down onto the concrete next to her. Resting his head on her leg. Lav glances down, but doesn't say anything as she continues working.
"Yeah, I mean I got one bag left but it's just my backpack. I leave tomorrow." You explain, a sense of melancholy falling over you. You look up at Brandy.
"Oh." Brandy grins falls, her voice coming out quieter than attended. She takes the lollipop from between her lips, letting the sugary sweet hover in the air. "I thought we would have more time than that." She admits.
You hum, picking up on the glimmer of sadness seeping into her tone of voice. You wish you had the will to stay longer, but you can't. You spent your whole life here, stuck in the never ending cycle of loneliness and abuse. You're not going to push it back any longer—you deserve to be free. You owe your father that, Aaron too.
"It's not like I'm leaving at 5 AM sharp, we can get breakfast and hangout together before I get on the road." You assure her, hoping to give her at least some comfort.
"No, I know. I don't expect you to push the plan back for me." Brandy responses. "I just.." She trails off, almost unable to finish.
"This is all you ever talked about. Since we were kids and I still can't believe you're really doing it. I'm happy for you—obviously. But I'm gonna miss you, like a lot." She finally vocalizes, the words tumbling out like she's been holding them back.
You stare at her for a moment, before a soft chuckle leaves your mouth. A small smile gracing your lips. You wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into your side.
"Don't feel bad for missing me, I'm gonna miss you too idiot." You confess, giving her a tight squeeze. "We both will." You add, nodding over to Koda.
Brandy chuckles too, feeling a little lighter now. She's glad that you're leaving to get away from it all, even if it's miles away from her. Who knows? Maybe her and Lav can visit or move close by. Brandy pops the lollipop back into her mouth, humming at the sugary taste before she gets an idea.
"Hey! Maybe we can all hang out today, like a farewell dinner at Ophelia & Rose." She suggests cheerfully, already excited about the idea. "I'm sure Robert and Bruce would be down." You nod, not totally opposed by the idea.
"Hey, Lav. What do you think?" You call out, gaining the ravenette's attention.
She pushes herself from underneath the car, disturbing Koda's nap. He stands up, not welcoming the interruption of his dream as he comes to lay down by you instead. Lav doesn't notice as she stands up, wiping her grease stained hands on a rag. A light sheen of sweat covering her as she comes to stand by Brandy, admiring her hard work.
"I think, you should do the honor of letting me take this sweet baby for a ride." Lav declares, a small grin on her lips.
You chuckle, admiring the car too. Lav really brought it back to life. Your dad would be proud. "So it's all finished?" You ask, glancing over to her as you cross your arms over your chest.
Lav nods, a proud smile on her lips at her accomplishment. "Yeah, I was just doing some touch ups. It's good to go."
You nod, turn around to grab the keys off of the workbench. "It looks amazing, I appreciate everything you did." You compliment, digging in the pocket of your jeans as you turn back around.
You lift up your tightly closed fist, holding it out to Lav to take. Both her and Brandy glance at you with a raised brow, confused on what you're hiding. You nudge it forward, ushering her to take it. Lav scoffs, unsure as she glances over to Brandy before opening up her palm to receive whatever you are holding. You drop a couple hundred dollar bills in her hand—from the money you found in the metal box. $400.
Brandy and Lav gawk at it. It's not like it's the most money they've ever seen, but it was surprise coming from you. They both couldn't help but wonder where the money came from. You don't even own a smart phone yet you just have 400 in cash easy?
"[Name]—" Lav starts before you cut in. "Don't. You deserve a little something from all your hard work. I couldn't let you do this for free." You explain, brushing it off.
"No, I was going to say thank you." Lav jests, her grin transforming into a wide smile. Brandy giggles, watching the exchange with a fond look.
"Eh. Same thing." You add, feeling a bit awkward that you assumed that. "C'mon, I call dibs on driving." You say as you move towards the car.
Koda perks up as you open the driver's side door, already excited at the mention of driving. He brushes pass you to get in the car, climbing over the seats and into the back of the car. You huff, amused as you duck into the car. You put the keys into the ignition, hesitating for a split second before turning on the car. The engine doesn't even stutter before purring to life, bringing back fond memories of your late father. You glance up at Lav, a grateful look in your eyes.
Brandy hops down from the workbench, making her way into the backseat with Koda. Which is a tight squeeze before she rolls down the window and sticks half of her body out the window, sitting comfortably on the sill of the car window. Lav gets in the passenger seat as you roll down the rest of the windows, getting refamiliar with the car. You shut the door behind you before adjusting your seat a little and then doing the same to the review mirror. You glance back as you reverse out of Lav's garage, the sound of the engine purring is comforting in a way you can't fully explain. You take off down the street, the sound of the engine mixing with Brandy's squeals of joy as she hangs out the window.
The rest of the afternoon is spent at Ophelia & Rose. Robert had closed it early to celebrate, calling it a 'Going Away Party'. It was truly a night to remember. A few regulars were there, some of your other coworkers, and even friends of Brandy who didn't even know the reason for the party.
It was late into the night by the time you were able to pull Lav and Brandy away from the diner and drive them back home. Maybe around 2AM? You weren't too sure. In between making sure neither of them puked in the car and getting into their house, you weren't too worried about the time.
You park the car in the back, hidden behind the garage. "C'mon Koda." You whisper, your voice low.
He patters behind you, watching your surroundings like some guard dog. You step onto the back porch, searching for the right key in the low light. You open the screen door before unlocking the bottom lock, then pushing the door open. You let Koda in first before stepping inside, removing your key from the knob as the screen door slams behind you unintentionally. You cringe at the sound, hoping that it didn't wake her up. You quietly shut the door, toeing your way out of the kitchen and towards the hallway when her voice stops you.
"Why are you home so late?" She asks, her voice rough from how many drinks she's had.
The television is on, playing a rerun of some old sitcom. Even from where you stand you can smell the liquor wafting off of her clothes. She sits in front of the screen in a recliner chair, empty beer bottles decorate the coffee table. Burnt cigarette buds and small bags of coke accompany the bottles, a gun lays on the table too. Basically provoking you. Koda stops next to you, barely containing the growl that rumbles in his chest. He's always been protective of you. You glance down at Koda, sliencing him.
"I was out with some friends, just lost track of time." You explain briefly, pushing away the fear that has your stomach in knots.
Your mother scoffs, the sound leaving her chapped lips with weight. The old chair creaks as she stands up, turning to face you. She stands around 5'8, her body slim from all the years of drug and alcohol abuse. There's a faded out bruise on her cheek from the fight weeks ago, her eyes glossed over. A clear sign that she's drunk. She takes another swig from the bottle as she walks closer to you, her movements sluggish as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
"That's all?" She inquires, tilting her head in a mocking manner. "Just out, having fun?" She grins at you, trying to read your expression.
"Yeah, that's all." You echo her words, shrugging slightly.
"So you have no idea about my missing bottles or weed?" She asks you, keeping that grin on her face as she tries to act like everything is normal. Your brows crease in confusion. Some of her stuff has gone missing?
"What-? No. Ask one of your little boy toys, I'm sure they would love to tell you." You quip, fighting back the urge to roll your eyes. With all the guys she has over here, things go missing all the time. That's why you have a lock on your door. You move to continue your path towards your room when she stops you again. This time forcefully.
She grabs you by the throat, slamming you back against the closest wall. Your head throbs from the impact, your vision blurring around the edges as she cuts off your oxygen. For a dopehead, she's surprisingly strong. You grab her arm, clawing at her hand as you try to release the pressure, your nails scratching into her skin as you gasp for air.
"Don't you fucking lie to me, I know you took my shit." She accuses you. "You've always had sticky fingers."
Koda barks loudly, growling at her as he practically gets ready to rip her to shreds. You glance down at your dog, shaking your head. You know Koda would defend you against her but something inside of you never lets him for some strange reason you can't explain. You focus back on her as you kick her as hard as you can in the stomach, sending her back on her ass. You feel your knees nearly give out underneath you with how lightheaded you feel.
Despite yourself, you push yourself up as you stagger over to where your mom lays out on the floor. Usually when you guys fight, you're the one who is always trying to get away from it. But you feel an overwhelming feeling of anger surging through you as you sit on her stomach while punching the shit out of her repeatedly. She tries to shield herself with one arm, attempting to stop your blows. But they don't cease. She reaches out blindly with her other arm before clutching a large shard of glass in her hand. She stabs it right into your left thigh, making you cry out in pain.
"F-Fuck!" You curse as she pushes you off, leaving you clutching your thigh to try and ease the pain. "You bitch." You groan, leaning your head back as you gasp in pain.
Your mother pushes herself up, moving around the recliner to grab the gun off of the coffee table. Her face is bloody, most likely from a bleeding nose and a busted lip. She doesn't hesitate to point the gun at you as she steps in front of you again. Your eyes widen at the sight of the barrel of the gun staring you down, your heart jumping into your throat.
"Not so tough now are you?" She spits, a smug look on her face at the sight of your fear.
You glance behind her at Koda as he stands there, his big body quivering in anger. Even though he's just a dog, he can express emotions. You can tell he wants to defend his owner yet doesn't want to go against your command. You let out a quick high pitch whistle, gaining Koda's attention as he recognizes your command. He stalks foward, a loud and deep growl emitting from him. Your mom freezes and you suddenly remember her fear of wolves. Koda practically resembles one.
She turns around towards the large caine, her eyes widened with fear. The gun slips from her hands as Koda lets out a booming bark. You're quick to grab the gun before she can reach it again. You grunt as you push yourself up, limping as blood trinkles down your leg from your wound. Pure adrenaline rushes through your veins, making you forget about the pain. You press the barrel of the gun into her back, your finger resting over the trigger.
"Move, get into the bathroom.." You demand, nudging her foward.
She follows your command, her arms raised up as she walks to the bathroom. You push her inside, shutting the door behind her. You hold the door shut as you look over to Koda who has finally stopped growling.
"Get me a chair." You whisper, Koda lets out a soft yip before dragging a chair by its leg from the kitchen with his mouth. You grab it once its in reach, pushing it underneath the door handle to keep her inside.
You limp down the hallway towards your room quickly, fumbling with your keys in shaky hands before unlocking it. You push open the door, grabbing your backpack off the bed. You grab the first aid kit from your desk and pull a blanket from your bed. Slinging the backpack over your shoulder, you shut your bedroom door behind you as you limp out back into the kitchen.
Koda trails closely behind you. You don't spare a glance towards the bathroom door as your mom tries to get out, swinging the back door open and leaving. You don't even bother to close the door as you limp your way to the car, using the last bit of adrenaline you have to drive off.
For once in your life; you feel free. You feel in control. You take this new found freedom and run with it, not even glancing back once. You just look ahead, welcoming whatever comes next.
      You allowed Lav to take the car to shop where she works at to get it fixed up. You needed it in good shape in order to drive it across the country. She said it would take a couple weeks for it be drivable again. You removed everything from the car and put it inside of your room to go through later. There was even a strange metal box tucked away underneath the passenger seat, which had to be opened with a key that you had yet to find or even began to look for.
"C'mon, Koda." You murmur, leading him into your room after taking him on a walk.
The door clicks shut behind you, locking with a soft click. Your mom hadn't been at the house all day, but it's not like you minded—or even cared. Just meant she couldn't bother you.
Koda jumps onto your bed, claiming his spot. You chuckle at the sight, sitting down on floor and leaning back against the frame of your bed. Koda comes closer, resting his big head against yours. You pull one of the boxes from your father's car in front of you, opening it to peer at the contents inside.
It was just folders and two smaller plastic containers that held what seemed to be more photos. There was also a brown leather-bound journal sitting on top of the containers. You began to go through the contents, looking through the folders and small containers. Inside of the folders was legal documents, a mortgage note, and other legal documents that belonged to yourself, Aaron, and your father. But none of your mothers. You didn't care, but you couldn't help but wonder what your father had planned. You took out your birth certificate and social security card, setting aside. At least you didn't have to spent time looking for it. You don't dwell on the old photographs for long. You kept a few of Aaron and your father, wanting to preserve the memory of them—even if it was just through pictures.
You pause to gaze at one of the photos, your expression softening. It was photo of you inside of the mustang, completely concentrated as you drove the car around the empty parking lot. You remember that day so clearly. How nervous you were to drive the car, the same car your father had grew up with. You remember the way he instructed you outside of the car with your little brother sleeping in his arms, your mother had begun using again and your father didn't trust her anymore to leave Aaron around her. That was two weeks before your father's death.
You sigh, your shoulders slumping as you set the photo down with the other ones. Glancing inside of the box, you grab the last item. The journal. You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should really be snooping through your father's stuff like this. But then again, what was there to lose? You undo the bindings, flipping open to the first page. It was all in your father's handwriting, nice and neat as always. It reads:
February 1998. _____________________________
Mandy is using drugs again. She thinks I don't know, but I do. The fact I have to work all the time doesn't help. By the time I come home the kids are already asleep and Trina is passed out on the couch. Thankfully [Name] is there to watch over Aaron. He's a runner, I'm sure he'll be a track star one day. He just started walking last month. Anyway. . .
________________________________
The page goes on to talk about how exhausting your father's job is, how the pay is not enough for rent—especially with your mother's drug habit. He talks about possibly quitting before the page ends. You flip through the pages, most of them talking about work and your mother's drug habit until you stumble past the most recent entry. A whole month before his death.
May 1999. _______________________________
I talked to my sister the other day. She sounded happy about the plan, relieved almost. I bought the house in January, everything is going good so far. One more month and then I can finally leave. I'm sure [Name] will be happy, she seems different nowadays. Sadder. I try to cheer her up as much as I can, but I'm working overtime to make sure I have enough money to drive across the country. She's getting older, starting to look more like her mother everyday. The version of her mother that I loved anyway. I don’t know who she is anymore.
________________________________
What plan was he talking about? You don't linger on the part about you. Instead your brows furrow in confusion, unsure of this 'plan' your father kept mentioning. Was he trying to escape with you and Aaron? And it seemed as if his planned truly would've worked if it weren't for your mother's unpaid debts that lead to his death.
You flip through the rest of pages of the journal, which are all empty. You hadn't expected to find anything else, he died a month after his last entry. But you do. The very last page contains a short message, still in your father handwriting; yet this time it looks rushed.
_______________________________
I left the key inside of her heart. The place she would never look because it was held by someone else. The person who contains the key also is me, but in a different form and a different me. She cannot reach the key because she has lost her heart. Her heart walks, talks, and breathes but she doesn't think she is the answer to anything.
_______________________________
"What the fuck does this mean?" You whipser underneath your breath, shaking your head in confusion. Who was your father feeling like? Dr. Seuss? Shakespeare?
What key is he talking about? You scratch the back of your neck, pausing to think for a moment. The metal box. The one you found underneath the passenger seat, it requires a key to open it. You blink, springing up from your spot on the floor to grab the box off of your desk. Koda lifts his head, watching with lazy eyes as you move around the room. You hold up the box, the pad of your thumb brushing over the key hole.
"'I left the key inside of her heart'..." You echo your father's words, glancing around your room for some type of hint. Who's heart is he referring to? Whatever is inside the box is clearly important, something he didn't want your mother to find if he hid the answer in a poem. Your mother was never a real fan of reading.
"'The person who contains the key is also me..'" You murmur, your brain working overtime as try to decipher what his words mean. "'..but in a different form and a different me.'"
As in.. one of his kids? A knot forms in your stomach at the thought of entering Aaron's room. You don't have the courage to go in there. You look over to the shelves above your bed, hoping to find answer of some kind, your eyes trace over the multiple knicknacks and trinkets placed on the wooden shelves. Old memories preserved. You pause on the medium sized teddy bear your father had given you when you were a little girl. You named it Pearl. She's dirty by how much you used to carry her around, you took her everywhere. It has a big heart in the middle, with the words 'daddy's girl' printed on the heart.
You move to stand at the side of your bed, metal box still in hand. Koda's collar jingles as he turns his head to watch your every move. You reach up onto your tippy toes to grab the teddy bear down from the shelf, the pad of your thumb traces over the matted fur. You pause for moment, thinking over the words your father had written down.
You set the metal box down on your bed before moving over to your desk to grab a pair of scissors. You turn the teddy bear around, and use the scissors to open it by the seams on its back. The stuffing puffs out, and you see it. A small heart shaped container, hidden in the stuffing. You set the scissors back down, before grabbing the small container out of the bear. This has to be it, right?
You open the container, and there lies a small metal key. Your heart leaps in your throat in anticipation. What is inside of the box that your father went through all of this just to hide it? You move over to sit next to Koda on the bed, grabbing the metal box with the key in your other hand. Koda lifts his big head, watching you with wide and curious eyes. Setting the box in your lap, you use the small key to unlock it. You hold your breath as you slowly open the lid, unsure of what you'll find.
"Holy Shit!" You exclaim, loud enough you're sure your neighbors heard it. Koda tilts his head to the side, a whine leaving him. He was obviously confused by your outburst, not yet understanding the significance of the context inside such a small box.
Inside of the box was three large wads of cash, rolled up and held by a rubber band. Along side was keys and an address with a phone number written underneath it. Your heart pounds in your chest upon your discovery.
How did your father obtain all of this money? You pause, wondering just how much it was. And just then you realize why your father was so desperate to hide it from your mother. Leaving wads of cash around a drug addict with debt from all her different drug dealers—never a good idea.
You pull the paper out with the phone number and address, before shutting the box again. You decide to hide it where you hide everything you own of value, in the loose floorboard underneath the rug in your room. The one place you know your mother would never look. The phone number looks familiar in some foggy way, as if you once memorized it long ago but forgot sometime ago.
"Should I call it?" You ask Koda, turning to look at the large caine taking over your bed. He grumbles at you, turning this head away as if he's ignoring you. You huff, amused by your dog's sassy attitude. "Thanks for the help." You grumble back.
You sit down at your desk, the number still in hand as you grab the telephone off the hook. You dial the number, your heart strumming with anticipation. But what's the worse that could happen? You set the paper down as you listen to the phone ring, the tips of your fingers tap against the desk nervously. Is 8 o'clock too late to call? You wonder anxiously.
Someone finally picks up the phone, and a voice rings out from the line. "Hello?"
A lump forms in your throat as you recognize the voice—how could you not? Your aunt, Tiny. You haven't seen her in years, since your father's funeral. Yet her voice, warm, and motherly in a loving way has always stayed buried in your memory. You clear your throat, trying to force the courage to say something—anything.
"Hello? Is there any one there?" Your aunt asks again. Confused about who could possibly be on the other side of the line.
"Aunt Tiny, it's me.. um [Name]." You speak, your voice small, quieter than you attended it to be. You feel like a little girl again, crying into your aunt's arms after she seen the other bruises you normally hid underneath your clothes. The bruises you've never shown anyone else.
"I found your number and wanted to see if it was still the same." You explain when she doesn't say anything right away. It's silent for a moment, you could only hear your own shaky exhales as you awaited a response.
"Name? I—" Her breath hitches, stuck in her throat before she can continue. "You sound all grown up now.. I haven't heard your voice since—" Aunt Tiny cuts herself off again, not finding it in herself to bring up her brother's death.
"Yeah, I've grown. A lot." You say, your tone laced with dry humor. "Look, I.. I was wondering if I could stay with you for a while. Just until I can get on my feet?" You ask, unsure if she'll even understand what you're truly asking.
"Is your mother still..?" She trails off, leaving the rest of her question unspoken but you know what she is truly asking.
"Yeah." You answer. "I can't stay here anymore.." For the first time ever, you admit that.
"No, I understand. I'm sure I can clear up some space for you and Aaron. The house has been so quiet nowadays anyway." Aunt Tiny says, you could hear the hint of a smile in her tone; that quiet hope.
Aaron. She doesn't know. No one on your father side of the family knows. You grip on the phone tightens, a weird lump forming in your throat that contains the truth. You can't tell her—not like this. She deserves to be told in person. This is your first time talking to her in years.
"That'd be nice." You say instead, your voice strained. "We can talk some more about it all, I still need to figure some things out." You explain.
"Of course, sweetheart. It was wonderful hearing from you again, I really hope to see the both of you soon." She voices, letting the line fall silent.
"Don't be afraid to call." She adds quickly, like an after thought.
You nod, forgetting that she can't see you. "I won't. And thank you again." You utter, staring ahead blankly. It's awkward for a moment when neither of you hang up before the line suddenly clicks, signalling the end of the call.
Your shoulders sag, almost as if a weight has just been lifted off your shoulders. For once, you're not carrying the weight of the world with you. You feel lighter, if only a little. You hang the phone back up on the post, your movements slow and damn near robotic. You step back, the back of your legs bumping into the edge of your bed before you fall back onto the mattress with a soft thud. Rousing the large caine next you. But you pay him no mind as you stare up at the popcorn ceiling above you. Thinking;
"So, how do I leave?" You ask, breaking the silence between the two of you.
Brandy's words from this morning were stuck in your head. The morning had gone by slow, and it was finally time for your break. Brandy usually tags along with you and Koda when you walk down to the nearby park. You watch as Koda walks around freely, keeping an eye on him. He knows better than to go too far off.
Brandy turns her head, looking over to you as she takes another drag from her cigarette. The smoke leaves her mouth in slow curls in the air, slowly drifting away.
"Make a plan, I guess." She says, flicking ash off of the cherry of the cigarette, her voice hoarse. "Figure out when you'll leave, what you'll use for transportation, how much money you have to get to one place to another, where you'll settle down."
Her words sound so simple, like leaving the woman who has abused you for years will be like quiting a job.
"Oh! And your documents, make sure you have all of your legal documents." She adds, nodding her head.
You nod your head hesitantly, letting her words settle. You let out a mid-tone whistle and Koda comes bounding over. You stand up, attaching his leash onto his collar. "Come on, our break is almost finished." You say quietly, waiting for Brandy.
You watch as she stands up, taking one last drag off her cigarette before dropping in on the ground, smudging it out with toe of her black mary jane’s. The two of you walk side by side, Koda trailing in front of you.
"You got any family you could stay with?" Brandy ask, glancing over to you for a moment.
You pausing, thinking. "Not really, I mean I got an aunt but she lives across the country. Somewhere in Washington state. I'm not even sure if she remembers me or would take me in." You state, shrugging slightly.
Your mother made sure to keep you closed off as a kid, you never had the chance to get to know your cousins or aunts and uncles. Before your father died, you used to hangout with family members from his side of the family when you would visit. But those times happened so long ago, it's no surprise if the people from your father's side of the family don't remember you.
"Try to get in contact with her, you can't be too sure." Brandy suggest, shrugging her shoulders.Â
"Guess not." You murmur, but you know Brandy heard you.
The diner comes into view, and by the looks of it; lunch rush. You and Brandy glance at each other, mentally bracing yourselfs for the inevitable plethora of rude customers. Quickly, the two of you enter the diner through the back to put your stuff away.
"Stay in here, okay buddy? It's busy on there." You tell Koda, kissing the top of his furry head when he lets out a small whine. "I'll be back."
Lunch rush happens pretty often, despite the lack of people in this small town. Everyone comes here for last minute lunch plans or to pick up their lunch before heading back to their jobs. For the next hour, you move quick to make sure everyone has the right order. You're exhausted by the end of it, food splatters on your uniform and your feet sore.
You walk into the staff room where Koda is still, his big furry body spread out on the bench. You huff at the sight, a faint smile tugging at your lips. You glance at the clock, checking the time. Three more hours until your shift is over.
You bring Koda back out to the front of the diner. He hops onto the cushion of his favorite booth without hesitation. The place is somewhat empty now, just a few regulars and teenagers from the local high school. You move behind the counter, glancing over to Brandy as she flirts shamelessly with her girlfriend. They're so cute and happy, you could puke.
You turn around, looking through the window into the kitchen. "Hey, Bruce." You say, calling out to the chef.
"Could you make me some fries and a fresh beef patty?" You ask. The chef is an older guy, around the same age as the owner—maybe a couple years younger. He has a soft spot for you, plus he's like a father figure.
Bruce grunts, shaking his head. But he doesn't say no as he turns away from you. You smile in victory, moving away to make yourself a milkshake. By the time you come back over to the window, with a milkshake in hand, there's a basket of fries and a plain beef burger sitting in the window.
"You're the best, Bruc-y." You say in a sing-song voice. He murmurs something incorhent back, waving you away.
You're thankful that the only thing frozen is the ice cream. Everything else usually comes in fresh. You grab the food and bring it to the table where Koda is at. You sit down across from the large canine, who perks up immediately at the smell of food. You chuckle at the sight and slide the burger over to him. He devours it in seconds, avoiding the buns though.
Before you can even enjoy your own food, Brandy slides into the seat, invading your personal space. She steals a fry or two, popping them into her mouth. Her girlfriend, Lav, slides into the seat next to Koda, watching with an amused smirk.
"Hey! Go get your own fries. Did you even wash your hands?" You say, not amused as you try to protect your food.
Brandy rolls her eyes, a soft giggle leaving her lips. "Wouldn't you like to know? My hands are clean." She says, wigging her fingers in your face.
You scoff, not believing her words. You could've sworn you saw the two of them sneak away to the ladie's room to do God knows what. "Whatever, keep your fingers out of my vicinity." You say, swatting her hand away.
"What kind of dog did you say Koda is?" Lav asks as she runs her fingers through Koda's thick fur.
"He's a wolf dog, I think. That's what my dad said, found him somewhere in the woods years ago." You say, shrugging slightly as you take a sip of your milkshake.
"Whatever he is, he's huge." Brandy says, stealing yet another fry. You don't say anything this time.
"I swear, he gets bigger everytime I see him." Lav states, a small grin on her lips. Koda growls, clearly taking offense to her words.
You chuckle. "Weight is a sensitive topic for this guy." You explain, nodding towards Koda.
The three of you chuckle at that, but Koda is the only who doesn't find it funny as he sulks silently. The conversation flows smoothly after that, just three friends chatting it up. But Brandy's words still play through your head.
"Make a plan."
You sip at your milkshake silently, glancing out the window at a mustang that looks a lot like the one tucked away in your garage. Your dad's old car.
"Hey, uh, Lav." You start, unsure on how to start this conversation. Without sounding awkward. "You work on cars, right?"
"One, two, three, lift!" Lav instructs, as you and her lift up the garage door. The old door creaks loudly, protesting against the movement.
Lav does indeed work on cars and agreed to take a look at your late father's car. You wanted to see if it was in good condition, and if was drivable and safe.
"Be careful, baby." Brandy calls out to Lav from behind. She's sitting in the bed of Lav's truck with Koda, watching.
The garage door clangs loudly once the two of you finally push it open. You haven't been inside of this garage in years, too many memories with your dad that you wanted to keep hidden inside. It's dusty inside, spiders and other rodents have taken everything over. You step inside, moving towards the lightswitch. You flick it on, looking towards the light above head. The light bulb flickers before coming to life, illuminating the garage.
The garage looks the same, except it's covered in spider webs and dust bunnies. It hasn't really been touched by time. Your father's tools are still where he left them. Everything is the same; except he's not here.
"Where's the car?" Lav asks, pulling you out of your head.
You blink, before walking towards the corner of the room. There's a large blue tarp covering something, but you already know what lies behind it. You pull at the tarp, revealing the old Ford mustang that hides behind it. While everything else has been taken over by dust and spiders, the car is the one thing that seem to stayed untouched.
"Holy shit." Lav says, stepping next to you. "This is a 1969 Ford Mustang Mach 1!" She exclaims, clearly amazed.
"I said it was mustang, right?" You say, as you fold up the tarp and set it aside.
"You did, but.. It looks to be in pristine condition, I bet it purrs so sweetly." She explains, as she gives love eyes to the car.
You nod, unsure of what that even means. You move over to your father's work bench, looking through the drawers and boxes for the keys. You pause as you stumble across an old wedding photo, filled with faces that look quite familiar yet you don't remember who is who. The married couple is in the middle, your father stands next to the bride with a younger you on his hip.
You pick up the photo carefully, as if it would crumble away in your hands if you were too rough. In the photo, your father looks young, happy, as he holds his little girl in his arms. On the back of the picture, in your father handwriting, it reads:
Tiny's wedding— 1993 La Push, Washington.
   Still can't believe my baby sis is married!
You remember Aunt Tiny. She owns her own baking business, you remember eating her pound cake with your cousins until you puked it all up the next day. Those times were easier, when you were miles away from your mother and had time to actually connect with family.
You glance back over to Lav, watching as she practically drools over the car. Right. The keys. You continue your search, folding the picture into your back packet. You eventually find them hidden inside of a coffee mug. You grab the keys, turning back to face Lav.
"Found the keys." You murmur, walking over to unlock the doors.
The last time you were even near this car was years ago, you still remember the smell of grease as your father worked on it. Giving it some touch ups. This car was one of his most prized possessions. You open the driver's side door, and get inside. The smell of leather and smoke invade your senses, reminding you of your father even more.
The interior is dusty, boxes you don't remember from before stuffed in the backseat of the car. Mice has clearly made the vehicle their home in the seven years it sat vacant. You pop the hood of the car, before getting out of the car again.
"I know it's not a good idea to try and start it, after how long it's been sitting." You say to Lav. You hesitate for a second too long before placing the keys in her hands.
"You can if you need to, you know more about cars than me. I just.." You clear your throat, your gaze lingers on the car.
It hurts to see your father's car taken over by time and rodents. He would've never let it get this bad. It feels as if just yesterday, you and him were sitting in this very garage. Listening to the radio station as he worked on it and you sat in the driver's seat, pretending to drive it. Koda's head sticking out the window, pretending right along side you. He was just a pup back then. But he’s always been an intelligent dog, picking up on your emotions easily.
"I need a moment." You murmur before stepping out of the garage. Lav frowns towards you, but she doesn’t try to stop you. You don't hear Koda jump out of the bed of Lav's truck before he's bounding over to you, ready to offer comfort.
When your father passed, you didn't have time to process it. It just happened. 30 seconds. That's all it took, and he was gone. Pulled into the back of an ambulance you couldn’t afford, leaving you behind after he promised he wouldn’t. You couldn't stop to mourn, to come to terms with his death. You had to take care of Aaron as he was only two years old, and your mother was somewhere on the streets trying to get her next fix. Either unaware or she just didn't care that her own habits had killed your father, the man she once loved.
You sit on the ground on the side of the garage, staring off into space as you try push down the tears that threaten to fall. Koda is by your side in seconds, his big furry body leaning against you. You wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his fur, wiping away the tears that have fallen.
As you sit there, you start to remember everything about your father that you tried to desperately to bury away. From his infectious joy, to his contagious smile. Just like Aaron. You remember how he would call you sunflower and lift you onto his shoulder to see the world from his view. You never realized how much you missed him and how much Aaron resembled him. You never allowed yourself to see it, to feel the loss of your father.
You were forced to become mature, to be the mother your own mother could never be. Now the little boy you raised was gone too. Killed by your mother's poor choices.
His eyes lit up with excitement, his big toothy smile was contagious. He scurried off to his room, claiming he was going to put on his ice cream eating attire. Whatever that meant. You continued on with your tasks, occasionally staring out the window—daydreaming. Until your dream was interrupted.
The sound rang out and the sound of glass breaking followed loudly, piercing, too close for comfort. Gunshots weren't uncommon in the area where you lived. But this was too close, too loud.
Your body stilled for a second too long as you heard a thump come from your brother's room before another gun shot rang out. Your legs moved faster than your brain could comprehend, you couldn't hear anything over the pounding of your heart in your chest.
Not the sound of your mother's screams, nor your own as you held Aaron in your arms, applying pressure to the wound. Your ears rang loudly as you saw the broken mirror and the gun laying on the floor. You don't remember when the ambulance came, or when they managed to pull you away from his body. Everything went by so fast and you were stuck, still trying to figure what happened.
"I.. I just wanted to be able to—to protect you.." A weak voice whispered in your head as you held nothing.
30 seconds. That's all it took. His heart stopped beating, and his eyes closed for one last time.
The sudden jerk of the bus woke you up, causing you to look around. You don't remember waking up this morning, or getting dressed, or even getting on the bus. That happens sometimes, you start thinking about that day again and you seem to go into autopilot.
Koda whines next to you, resting his head on your leg. You look down at him, resting your hand on the top of his head to pet him. He hates when you get like that. You're there, physically, but mentally? You're gone.
"I did it again.." You state, a hint of disappointment in your tone. You thought you were getting better. "I'm sorry buddy." You whisper, gently scratching behind his ear.
The first couple months after Aaron died, you were like that. Stuck in some sort of a trance. Physically living everyday life as if nothing had happened. School, work, home, repeat. Mentally, you were reliving that day a thousand times over. Unable to grasp reality. You were just there, replaying your brother's death in your head over and over again. You did anything you could to get away from that, partying, drinking, and having sex with any girl who was interested.
You got better eventually, with a lot of help from Brandy, your bestfriend. It was a long time before you were able to sleep at night again.
You stare out the windows of the bus, watching as different buildings pass by. You tug on the cord as the buildings start to get familiar, meaning that your close to your job. The bus comes to a stop, hissing as the doors open. You stand up, holding Koda's leash in one hand and pulling your satchel over your shoulder with the other.
You smile at the bus driver as you step off the bus and onto the side walk. The bruise from last night is sore, but the swelling and pain went down. You get sympathetic looks from people as you walk, older woman whispering as if you can't hear them. You never mind them, it's not like they're doing something to help you. People around here don't care enough to help strangers like that.
You work at this old diner on the corner of 34th and Park St, called 'Ophelia & Rose'. The owner is this nice old man, named it after his wife and daughter. Not many people come but enough that it has stayed in business all these years. It's mostly just bored teens, tourists stopping for a bite, and old heads who stick to their even older habits. The owner, Robert, is nice enough to let Koda hang out in one of the booths. People like him, always wanting to pet him or give him a treat.
The bell chimes overhead as you enter the diner, a few of the regulars are already at their normal spots. You wave to them as you head towards the back of the diner, Koda follows closely behind you.
You enter the small staff room and open the lock on your locker to put your stuff inside. There wasn't always locks on the lockers, but after a couple things went missing, Robert added them.
"Holy shit!" A voice exclaims from the right of you. "Look at your face."
You can't help but roll your eyes at that. You glance over to the figure, taking in the familiar face of your coworker, Brandy. The two of you have been going to school together since Pre-K, yet she always seems so shocked when a new bruise appears. You'd think she'd get used to it, you have.
You grab your apron, tying it around your waist tightly. "I have, am I that beautiful?" You say sarcasticly.
A scoff falls from Brandy's cherry covered lips, her bottom lip juts out in a small pout. "You know that's not what I mean." She says, crossing her arms over her chest.
Brandy is your typical blonde bimbo. Pink everything, huge tits, and a charming smile. Only difference is she's actually very smart, but people always assume she isn't. They see her blonde hair and hot pink everything and think they know the type of girl she is. She has so much potential to make something of herself, to become a doctor or a scientist. Yet she stays in this small town—with you.
You hum, crouching down to take off Koda's leash and hang it up inside of the locker before shutting it and putting the lock back on.  "We got into another fight, that's all." You say, as you stand up.
"You can't keep letting her do this to you." She says, her voice softer.
"It's not like I don't fight back. You should see her face." You answer, a hint of humor in your tone. But Brandy doesn't laugh, clearly not finding your words funny.
"It's not about fighting back, [Name]. If you stay in that house, you're going to get yourself killed. Can't you see that?" Brandy's voice is firm, concern laced in her tone.
Her words silence you, reminding you of everything you've lost at the hands of your mother. Your father died because she had unpaid debts due to her drug habits, Aaron died because of her gun. Even if she didn't pull the trigger herself, she was the one who put the bullets into the chamber.
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The bathroom fan blares loudly over head, drowning out the sound of the bathroom sink running. You rinse your face off with cold water, the blood from your busted lip turning the water a pink-ish color. The adrenaline from the fight still lingers, your fingers trembling as you turns off the fauet off. As you lift your head, you grab a towel and gently pat your face dry.
You don't particularly remember what the fight was about; but it resulted in a busted lip and another bruised cheek.
This isn't the first time your mother has gotten violent with you. From the time you could utter your very first words, your mother found some excuse to lay her hands upon her daughter. She's hated you from the moment you were born. She just hid it better when your father was still around. Even when you were younger, you knew that's not how mothers should behave. But what could you do? You can't change who your mother is; no matter how many shooting stars and birthday candles you wished upon.
Nothing would ever be different.
Staring at your reflection, a soft sigh of resignation leaves your lips. You barely recognize the person who stares back. 'How in the world will I cover this up?' You wonder, bringing a hand up to gently prod at the forming bruise. You hiss at the slightest touch, flinching away from your own hand. Swallowing down the pain, you shut the bathroom light off and carefully push open the old creaky door.
The door moans softly at feeling of weight being pushed up against it, you pause; your gaze flits over to the figure on the couch. Your mother shifts on the couch, beer bottles surrounding her, a groan leaves her lips, but she doesn't wake up. Thankfully.
With careful, practiced steps, you walk down the hallway quietly towards your bedroom. The whole house smells of cigarette smoke and something else metallic and dark. At the end of the hall is the door to your bedroom, two more doors on the left and right. One leading to the bathroom, the other.. You swallow the lump that forms in your throat at the sight of the door alone.
The sticker letters at the top of the door taunt you, spelling out your younger brother's name. Aaron. He died two years ago, due to your own mother's stupidity. Leaving a gun around the house when a seven year old boy is around is a dumb decision in itself. You haven't had the guts to enter the room since that day. Too scared to reopen what hides behind that door, even though you know the blood has been cleaned up a long time ago.
Holding your breath, you speed pass the door. Your eyes glued to the ground, you push open your bedroom door. The old hinges groan underneath the slightest touch, moaning as you slowly shut the door behind you with a soft click. You lock the door behind you, a habit that's become second nature in the past few years.
Your room isn't much, but it works. A full bed in the corner, a small desk in front if the bed, a large dog kennel to the side of your bed. The room is cramped, too much furniture in such a small space. But somehow? You make it work.
A soft, quiet whine sounds from the kennel, diverting you from your thoughts. Koda. You walk over to the kennel, crouching down to open the door. He comes bounding out of the kennel, like a spring popping out of a tight box.
A small huff of laughter leaves your lips as you move to sit on your butt, watching the way his tail wags in excitement at the sight of you alone. The large canine clammers his way onto your lap, as if he is a small puppy and not a 100-something pound dog. Koda licks over the forming bruise gently, sensing your pain. But even the slightest touch stings, you lean away automatically, pushing away his snout from your face.
"I'm fine." You whisper, scratching the spot behind his ear. But your voice held no real conviction, it came out wobbly and hoarse. If you didn't believe your own words—why would a dog?
Your tongue pokes out, swiping against your bottom lip. The wound stings as saliva enters it but you don't flinch. Your eyes slowly drag over your small room, tired and filled with fatigue. When will this end? The abuse, the fear. For years, you've thought about leaving. Taking all you have and leaving inside of your father's old mustang. It's rightfully yours anyway.
That's all you've ever wanted.
To leave behind this life filled with violence and death. First, your father was shot dead in front of you, then your little brother died in your arms. You couldn't help but wonder who would be killed next. Koda? Or possibly you? Deep down, you knew you didn't want to stick around to find out. But where would you go? How would you make a living? You don't want to spend the rest of your life busting tables to make a living.
So many things hold you back from leaving, but as you look around your janky room, you see nothing that stops you from leaving. Aaron is gone. You've come to terms with that long ago.
You look at Koda, his big eyes reflect your own sadness. A shaky exhale leaves your lips as you run your fingers through his thick fur. "One day." You whisper, your voice shaky with mixed emotions.
"We'll be far away from all of this. Some place nice, where we can both be free and safe." You promise, your tone filled with quiet determination. Koda's ears perk up, seemingly believing your words this time. You're not sure when that day will come, or how you will get there. But, something in your gut tells you that it will happen. Someday.
You glance over to your dresser, looking towards the first drawer. You pause, thinking for a moment before your mind moves faster than your own body. You move Koda off of your lap to stand up. The floor creaking underneath your weight as you move towards the dresser, opening the top drawer. You feel around underneath the fabric of your shirts, until the tips of your fingers meet with the cool metal.
You swallow the lump that enters your throat, guilt festers in your stomach. But the need to feel something real covers the guilt.
My feet drag along the ground, taking hesitant steps through the crowded halls. My shoulders brush past others—an accidental touch—and I am only met with snarls. Familiar faces yet foreign concepts. I remember the smallest details, the way they laugh and smile, yet they cannot tell you my name.
Nameless.
Yet with you? It feels as if I have found my placing. I hate it—or maybe I don't. The way your gaze seems to burn into my skin, those soft brown irises of yours speak volumes. With you, I have a name, I have a place, and I certainly am not lost.
