Hello, again! This is definitely different than my previous fics, but I thought I would give it a try. A little background, this is Leah's story leading up to her imprisonment.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters other than Leah.
I was twenty-two years old when I joined Joe Carroll's following. I had graduated from college, but I was living at home due to not being able to find stable employment. It's safe to say that my life didn't have meaning until I met Joe Carroll. This is my story.
I couldn't take his criticism anymore. His words hurt more than any physical pain I had ever endured. I had to get out of the hellhole I was living in. I packed up everything I owned and loaded it into my pickup truck. That truck was the only good thing my dad had ever given me. I took off without a word. I didn't know where I was going, but somehow everything would work out.
I pulled into the parking lot of the Roadside Diner at 7:00 am. I had been driving all night, and I was hungry. I went inside, and sat down at a booth by a window. There was only one other customer there. He was sitting at the counter, his back to me. I ordered my food, not paying much attention to the man sitting at the counter.
A few minutes passed, and the man joined me. He slid into the seat across from me. I looked up, and my mouth nearly dropped open. It was Joe Carroll, author of The Gothic Sea.
"Hello," he said, smiling at me.
"Hi," I replied.
At first I was confused. I wondered why he decided to sit with me. After talking with him for a while, there was something about him that drew me in.
"I'm Joe Carroll," he said.
"I'm Leah."
He extended his hand to me. My heart thumped in my chest as I shook his hand. I couldn't believe that one of my favorite authors was sitting right across from me.
"I'm a fan of your work," I told him.
"Thank you," he replied with sincerity in his voice.
Then he smiled at me. Oh, that smile. I wanted to start gushing about how much I love The Gothic Sea and how much I admire him as an author. I didn't, course. I wanted to remain professional.
"Tell me, Leah, what are you doing here so early?"
"It's a long story," I replied.
"I'd love to hear it," he said.
I hesitated at first. I wasn't sure if I should be opening up to him. Joe could tell I was hesitant.
"It's alright. You can tell me anything," he said, flashing that smile again.
I took a deep breath.
"I'm starting a new life," I began. "I just can't take my father's criticism anymore. No matter what I do, it isn't good enough for him."
I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. I quickly wiped them away as the waitress brought me my breakfast.
"Continue," Joe said.
"We had a very nasty exchange of words yesterday, and what he said drew the line."
"What did he say?"
"He said that…"
I felt the tears forming in my eyes again. Joe looked at me with sympathy.
"He told me that I'm fat."
Joe's eyes widened.
"That's absolutely not true. You are a toothpick. Why would he ever say something like that?"
"To hurt me," I told Joe.
The tears rolled down my cheeks. I still wasn't sure if I should be telling Joe this, but he seemed to be taking interest in my story.
"I'm a recovering anorexic," I told him. "My father thought that my eating disorder was ridiculous. He told me that I'm a selfish bitch who is desperate for attention."
"Even though I don't know much about you, I know that your father is wrong," Joe responded. "What about your mother? Is she around?"
"Yes," I replied. "We used to be so close. Now she takes my father's side."
"When did your relationship with your mother go downhill?"
"When I told her some of the things that my father said to me when she wasn't around. She told me I was lying and that my father would never say such things. It got even worse when I was diagnosed with anorexia."
"I'm sorry that had to happen to you," Joe said, making direct eye contact with me.
"Thanks," I replied back. "After last night, I figured that it was time to leave and make a new life for myself."
Joe reached across the table and took my hand.
"I'm here to help you," he said. "You are a special person. You deserve more than the life you have now."
"You'd really help me?" I asked.
"Of course. When we leave, I want you to follow me. I will take you to where you will have all you need."
"Thank you so much," I said, trying to control the flood of tears that was about to start.
Joe squeezed my hand.
"It's my pleasure," he said.
I wiped away my tears. I didn't know what my future held, but I was going to trust that Joe Carroll was going to get me back on my feet.
Should I continue this? Feedback appreciated.
