Author's Notice: My writing has been stolen twice by someone who tried to pass it off as their own. If you recognize my writing anywhere please contact me immediately.
A WARNING TO ALL REEDUS WRITERS: In light of posting a very angry author's note to the story that the content was stolen from. I have been informed by a fellow writer that many other writers in the Reedus fandom have had their work stolen recently.
This person will most likely make a new blog, steal more writing, and submit it as their own to another innocent fic blog. Look out for writing you recognize and if possible inform the rightful owner.
Author's Note: I've been getting hit with Justin feels lately so I felt it was time to finally write this. Normally I leave OCs faceless and blur out the faces on pictures I use for promo posters. Or choose an unknown model for the likeness of my OC. But I'm breaking my rule this time and using an actress. The queen of white trash roles herself- Jaime Pressly. Not Joy Hickey from My Name is Earl Jaime Pressly though, the young-mid 1990's Jaime Pressly. Promo poster is located on my personal Tumblr.
Also, I've never attempted a Cajun accent before so feedback is appreciated greatly on that.
"Witha handicap guy?"
"Doo he at least treat her right?"
"Mama dôn start. Justeen hit her. There aint never gonna be nuttin' he can do dat'll make her forget dat."
"How far-long is she?"
"Jesus Christ lawd in heaven I never thought she'd fuck up her life dis bad." the irritated voice sounded once more through the foyer of the lavish Louisiana plantation house. "I'm comin' home."
"Mama I know aunt Cleementine's put alotta her money inta me an I owe her. But it dôn matta. Missay's ma sista. I'm comin' home an ya can't stop me." the voice quietly growled into the receiver before it was slammed down into it's cradle.
She sighed, thinking of the twelve and a half hour drive ahead of her, picking up the phone again before her mother could call back and tie up the line. She needed to get her affairs in order before her aunt or someone worse found out she was leaving. Rifling through the ratty hand written phonebook tucked in the ancient phone stand's drawer she flipped to the Ps dragging her manicured finger along the page until it landed on the Pink Flamingo trailer park. As she circled each number around to dial on the rotary phone she thought of the time her mom mentioned the park changing owners after Mrs. Mingo passed away, hoping the new landlord was decent.
"Pink Flamingo." came a gruff voice over the line making her frown with doubt.
"I need ta make arrangements to move inta one of your mobile homes." she informed the man, leaning out as far as the phone cord would allow when she heard a noise further down the hall.
"I got ten open. Three on Palm Lane, one on Sunset Court, three on-" the voice lazily began listing only to be cut off by her sharp demand.
"I dôn want any of dem. I need one in Bayou Court." she asserted, making the man on the other end scoff at her sassy request.
"Tough shit, aint none out there no more, swamp took it over." he informed the girl on the line, his brow scrunching in confusion as to who would ask for that place specifically.
Her nostrils flared at his snarky answer, coming to the conclusion that the new owner must be a real prick and a blind one at that.
"Dôn be givin' me dat bullshit. Ma mama lives out dere and I just talked to her not two minutes ago. You expect me to believe thee damn swamp swallowed her big ass up dat quick?" she whisper-screamed into the receiver through clenched teeth.
Justin's phone fell from his hand as the irate female continued yelling over the line, shock stalling him from picking it back up for a second before curiosity sent him bending over to snatch it.
"Know what, I musta been thinkin' of BayRoo Court." he lied, beginning to pace his living room floor. "Bout when can I expect you to move in? Give me a heads up an I'll meet ya in the court with the key."
"I'll be dere by noon tomorrow." snapped the pissed off feminine Cajun drawl before the line went dead with a click.
Since her aunt didn't approve of contact with her mother or half sister, Kristina was forced to make the rare calls damn near midnight. Any other time it was a pain in the ass but tonight it gave her an advantage to quietly pack in peace and slip away into the night easily.
A leather trunk covered in Ls and Vs was thrown onto her bed before guilt began to consume her. But it didn't stop her from emptying her closet. She was going to turn her back on the woman who'd given her a chance at a brighter future. All for the half of her family that had nothing to give besides headaches and shame.
Her aunt Clementine was really her father's aunt. A rigid woman who, upon finding out about her nephew's illegitimate secret, sought to make the child into something of worth. Something acceptable to acknowledge since Kristina had their stolen pedigree bloodline running through her veins.
As a second designer suitcase was filled her thoughts slipped to Melissa, the big sister she'd been forced to leave behind ten years ago. She'd been so much more than a sister to her. Given their age difference she'd been more of a mother than her real one ever was. That was a large part of why she was headed down to the tip of Florida. She owed it to Melissa. And she was willing to do whatever to took to help her sister get by.
She'd been so happy and full of life years back before Kristina had been dragged away. Much different than the tired and haggard voice that spoke back to her every once in a while these days. She could hear it in her voice the last time they'd talked. Her sister needed her.
One'55 Bonneville stuffed to the gills with luggage later she was on interstate ten east, headed home.
Justin spread his blinds apart to peer outside once more, letting out another irritated growl. Nothing but kids playing inside the ring of vacant trailers, climbing on the shoddy play equipment he'd dumped in the grassy center, wandering around the dusty circled road. She was two hours late. He took another lap in front of the windows again, repeating the small length of space like an agitated animal.
'Shit she'd be what? Nineteen now maybe twenty?' he wondered silently, counting on his fingers to try figuring it out, thinking of the cornsilk blonde haired little girl he'd seen her as last.
Ever since he'd found out Missy had kept the gimp's baby and used the money he'd given her for an abortion on other things, he'd been looking for a way to get back at her. Keeping the court empty so her mother could take on more foster kids along with reduced rent kept her mother indebted to him but that wasn't enough.
The different women she saw leaving his ostentatious doublewide nearly every morning didn't phase her. Just about the only time he got a reaction out of her was when he treated his son like shit in the front yard for her to see. And even that was happening less and less as the cripple forbade her from coming to Kyle's aide.
But that was all about to change now that her little sister was moving back home. He knew that would get to her. Getting her sweet baby sister under him. He planned on doing it right too, making the girl fall in love with him, make her think the world of him. Fake being a gentlemen to the best of his ability until he nailed her. Then he'd flip the dime and turn into the nastiest son of a bitch that spoiled little princess had ever seen. He'd break her heart, and her face while he was at it. And Missy would know it was all because of her stuck up ass.
With only thirty-six miles to go Kristina paused in Miami for a bite to eat before continuing on down along South Dixie Highway to Florida City. A city full of people so stupid they couldn't even think of a name other than the state it already resided in. A strip mall liquor store infested white trash hell hole. Home sweet home. One quickly successful but crucial stop was made in town before she arrived at the dirt road leading to her childhood home. The Flamingo was situated just outside of the city. Close enough to walk to town if the residents couldn't afford a car, but far enough for them to bitch about it the rest of the day.
As she made the turn into the park with a scornful glare thrown up at the pink sign. She was surprised to see brand new 'mobile homes' lining the front streets. Shiny and modern, expensive by the normal standards of those who usually live in a trailer park. Progressing towards the back revealed the natural caliber of trailers. Some even a little run down as she maneuvered her way towards the little slice of swampy hell she was about to call home once again.
The Bayou Court was at the most rear of the park, the vintage 50's trailers arranged corner to corner in a hillbilly parody of a cul-de-sac. Pushed up against nature as though they were trying to hold it back with their flimsy tin walls. And if one ever opened their back door they were met with the wilds of the southern Florida everglades right outside it. Countless times foster kids without enough common sense lost fingers or worse to gators. She shuddered at the thought of how many childhood pets she'd lost to pythons.
But as she pulled into the roundabout dusty driveway she saw that the court had changed since she left. Some for the better, some for the worse. There were certain trailers literally being swallowed by the Amazon-like forest, sinking into the ground, covered in vines and moss. Others were still intact though shabby at best. One stood out like a sliced off thumb, looking as though it belonged up front but put even those expensive tin cans to shame. The only real improvement was the swing set perched in the middle, giving the children currently swarming her car a merciful form of entertainment she'd never had there as a kid.
She barely recognized her mother's trailer as she put it in park and rolled up her window, smacking dirty little fingers out of the way so they didn't get smashed. What had once been a standard doublewide looked as though it had been added to with spare trailers, welded together to make one giant monster mobile home. The original two hundred square feet of her childhood was situated dead center, serving as the entrance. A new porch was an addition too, one side with steps descending from it, a rickety makeshift wheelchair ramp on the other.
"Annnt! Out da way, gôn scoot." she hissed, trying to open her door without hitting any of them. "Go on inside an get Miss Kathleeen tell her Kristina's home." she ordered all of them, pleased to see a couple run off towards the trailer-mansion to do as they were told.
Justin jumped off his couch when he heard kids screaming and hollering. It either meant a croc had moseyed into the court for his glock to take care of or the pawn to his new plan had arrived. Peering through the blind slots with already naturally narrowed eyes he spied his golden haired puppet bending over to scoop up the filthy toddler that'd been hanging onto the edge of her prim and proper sundress.
"Goddamn she grew up right." he leered under his breath, a perverted smile stretching his thin lips while he watched her carry the kid over to the jungle gym.
"Who?" came the quiet question from beside him, making him jump.
He'd been so engrossed in stalking her that he hadn't noticed his son creep up on him.
"Don't ya worry about it. I got some business to take care of. Stay in the house." he snapped, pushing the boy back from the window.
Justin paused with clipboard and keys in hand at the sound of Kathleen's trailer door slamming open against the siding. He decided to watch how the family reunion played out before he came riding in on his sham of a white horse.
"Kristina Maybell Winters I'ma tan your hide girl!" came an irate voice, carrying across the short distance to where she was surrounded by attention starved children begging for a turn while she pushed the little girl on a swing.
Her mother may have been a neglectful rough around the edges alcoholic but she was still her mother.
"Mama, dôn scare thee little ones." she chided, coming forward to give the older woman a hug, failing to dodge the smack to the back of her French twist covered head that came after.
"S' a blessin' to see ma little girl again." Kathleen cooed, holding her at an arms length to get a good look at her. "But goddamnit how could ya jus throw away your future like that, droppin' outta college."
"Dôn do that. Dôn try to call it college." she snapped at her mother, spitting the final word like a curse, stepping away from her hold with a sharp glare.
"Donchu sass me young lady." her mother warned, continuing to rant. "M' not gonna letcha fuck yer life up just 'cause your sister went and got knocked up by a cripple. I know ya love her but I aint gonna let ya do it for er."
"I'm not jus doing it for Missay." she replied calmly, shaking her head at her mother before jerking her chin towards the blonde woman that appeared in the doorway. "I'm doing it for da bébé in her stomach. I'm not gonna let it grow up like we did." she concluded, speaking the last sentence to her sister rather than her mother.
While her mother scornfully asked just exactly what that was supposed to mean Melissa stood there in awe for a moment, gazing down at the graceful woman her sister had become. Truthfully she resented her though she tried not to. It wasn't her fault Kristina had a different father with a wealthy background and a half insane great aunt. That she got whisked away and saved from living the rest of her life in crippling poverty and ignorance. She could still remember her wails as she was carried away against her will. But she still couldn't stop jealousy from tinting her cheeks a shade darker at the sight of her. She was lost in envious thoughts of the last time she got to wear a dress half that pretty or the last time she got anything at all without working like a dog when her mother's declaration that she return to Louisiana at once broke her daydream.
"Why you so upset mama? What do ya care if I ruin my so called life back dere?" she asked sarcastically, fully intending on telling them both and the dark haired stranger that rolled himself out onto the porch. "Is it because you were plannin' on using me once I fulfilled ma purpose and aunt Clem passed? So ya could live off my money and use me as your retirement fund?"
When her mother tried to deny it her light blue eyes narrowed into slits and she took on the persona of a pissed off viper, snapping out her words with venom in each syllable.
"Dôn lie. Ya've been lien' to us our entire lives. But I won't let you now, I've waited too long for this." she vowed, shifting to address the protrudingly pregnant blond descending the stairs to greet her and become fully involved in the family spat.
There was a quick hug and a meaningful look exchanged between the sisters before she began.
"Doo ya remember the day they took me away? How loud you yelled and how hard yew and Justeen fought ta keep me? Jus little teenies tryin' to hold onto me. Didn't you tink it odd dat Mama let me go without a word?" she inquired, jogging her memory unnecessarily with details of that horrible day, making her sister nod her head in conformation with an apologetic look in her eyes.
"She sold me!" she yelled a second time after her mother's wail of "Bullshit!" drowned out the first.
The man whom she had yet to be introduced to's mouth dropped open as well as Melissa's.
"Deny it all you like Mama. But she told me everythin'. She told me it all and den some. About how children are only money to you, even your own. How ya jumped right at her offer and didn't even try to get more out of her for me. That I'm only worth tree-hundred dollars to ya." she told her sadly, looking around at the children lingering nearby to watch, the state of them proving at least one of her aunt's accusations to be true.
"She told me because she wanted me to forget Missay and hate you. But I never did. I never forgot either of you and I love ya both jus as much as I did back den." she confessed, willing to forgive her mother's greed as she brought them in to hug at the same time, making Melissa tear up and her mother let out a sigh of defeat.
With their mother ambling away in search of her whisky while yelling about ungrateful brats, Melissa brought her towards the porch with a hand on her shoulder.
"Tina I'm happy, really happy actually, to see you. But I can't let ya uproot your life because a me." she argued quietly, not wanting their mother to know that she was taking her side though for different reasons.
"To tell you da truth ma sista needin' me isn't the only reason I left. Ma life dere wasn't exactly what you'd expect." she admitted as a darkness clouded her expression, hoping to lessen some of the guilt weighing on her sister's shoulders without having to go into detail. "Besides. We family and dass how real families do. Fuck your pride, someday I may need help too."
When Melissa tried to continue declining she was cut off by a cleared throat grabbing their attention up to the porch in front of them. Introductions were made and Richie thanked her graciously, ready to admit they needed help despite his wounded ego being decimated at not being able to provide for his family. He could see Kristina's handout was coming from a place of kindness and love. Much unlike the one given out of spite so someone else could rub his superiority and sarcastic generosity in their faces. The newcomer noticed Richie direct a glare over her shoulder at that very person.
She turned around to take in the view of a man sauntering their way as he descended the steps of the gaudy trailer located one over from her mother's. He looked your typical Floridian dirt bag. Clad in shorts that hit mid calf and a dark wifebeater with an obscenely thick chain swaying around his neck as he walked. Socks paired with sandals made her cringe a little as the keys being swung around his finger told her exactly who he was.
"Dat must be thee slumlord I spoke with last night." she muttered under her breath to the two beside her. "He sounded like a real asshole on da phone."
"Biggest asshole I ever met." Richie started, making sure to talk loud enough so the approaching figure could hear. "That piece a shit thinks he's a real man 'cause his mommy left him the park when she died-"
The rest of his insults fell on def ears as her jaw lowered in shock and she turned to her sister with confusion knitting her brow. The man approaching them with a clipboard in his other hand looked nothing like the runt of a teenager she remembered leaving behind.
"Dass Justeen?" she asked skeptically only to get nodded confirmation from Melissa.
Justin was surprised at the rage coursing through him when he herd the Creole accented girl reveal that her mother had sold her off like cattle. He knew Kathleen would do just about anything to make an easy dollar but even to him that was low. He'd never even consider selling Kyle should some obscure rich relative show up offering.
When yelling gave way to quiet conversation that couldn't be heard through his purposely open window he began getting tired of spying from a distance. He decided it was time to make his entrance when he saw Melissa introducing her sister to the disabled deadbeat.
He approached them leisurely, not rushing his swaggered step for anyone. No matter how fine they looked in their expensive clothes. The cripple was talking shit as always but that wasn't his focus at the moment. The Louisianan princess was walking out to meet him, leaving the other two behind.
Justin put on his most charming smile as their paths met, ready to lay it on thick and get her eating out of the palm of his hand right away. Only to have that grin smacked right off his face along with the Oakleys shading his eyes. His naive expectations of the girl landed in the sand right next to his sunglasses.