Short bit of writing; I was just wondering what Joyce would think about everything going on. First person Joyce POV

I stand in my daughter's doorway in an early hour of the morning, lost in thought.

To be honest when I woke up this morning I was not expecting to come home from my shift at Two Whales to see my daughter and her best friend in bed together, Chloe curled around Max, in their pajamas. Not to say I wasn't expecting it eventually, just not now.

This whole week just seemed off so far, though I can't put my finger on it. It was nice to see Max's face again for the first time in five years. She looks like an adult now, her features still innocent but strong underneath.

I can understand Chloe's crush on the girl, her childhood best friend. I could see it even before Max left for Seattle all those years ago. I wasn't surprised when Chloe brought Rachel Amber into our home, and didn't question their relationship because I knew. The walls in the house were thin and it was difficult not to know.

For a while Chloe seemed like a slightly less ticked-off version of herself, a version I hadn't seen. I liked Rachel, she was good for Chloe and became a frequent visitor of the Price household. She was no saint, but then again nobody could be anymore.

When she disappeared it tore Chloe down to the very core. She grew distant, and none of my attempts to have emotional contact with her went through. I tried not to force her into anything too demanding. I know how it feels to lose someone that close to you.

Though that happened to her three times already in her short life.

I wish David understood that. I married him because I loved him and he's a good man, but he doesn't understand Chloe's pain. He didn't see how much heartbreak she had gone through to change her from the ecstatic, though admittedly head-strong little girl she was to a rebellious and trouble-making teen who smokes weed and has a tattoo.

"Joyce?"

I hear my daughter's whispered voice float through the air. Through the dark she almost sounds like the child she used to be if not for the fact that she calls me Joyce now more often than mom, unless she's begging for free food at the diner.

The sound of light footsteps reaches my ears as Chloe gently stands and makes her way across the room towards me.

"Why are you standing there like a fucking creep?" Chloe angrily hisses in a voice just above a whisper, trying not to wake Max.

"Chloe you know I like to check on ya sometimes," I breathe quietly, "you don't have to be so aggressive."

Chloe reaches for her door handle to close it but I grasp her wrist before she can. She flinches back but doesn't rip her arm from my grip like I expected.

"Chloe," I mutter softly, pausing to ponder exactly what I should say.

"You're my daughter and I love you. I know that Max does too, okay?"

Chloe makes eye contact with me. Her eyes are pastel blue unlike both mine and her father's. When she was little William and I would dote on her and wonder what member of our family she got her eyes from.

Her eyes, though always remaining the same color, changed constantly. Lately, this week, I've been seeing a spark in them again brighter and stronger even than the one that was there when she was with Rachel. Other times they were sharp and reflective like a mirror and other times they were heated like a scalding sea that would burn you alive if you fell in.

This time they were sincere and rimmed with sleep.

I release Chloe's wrist and start to turn away when she I hear a murmured reply.

"Thanks mom."

I grin and let the door click closed behind me.