AN: Well, I have a person to thank for this story. Though I'm sure she didn't intend this, Caecies Midnight kind of gave me some of the plot inspiration. actually part one is kinda around that. Well, thank you all!
and this might be kinda confusing but I assure you it gets less so. I struggled with the way things kinda went . Oh well.
What am I doing?
It was question I'd asked myself multiple times before, as I was packing, as I got my boarding pass for my flight to Sea-Tac airport, as I boarded the sesna to Port Angeles. Everything seemed to be screaming 'you don't belong here'
But I did. This place was just as much my home as my small mansion back in New York. It was part of my long-lost fathers life, and now, mine.
Of course.... That thought often left me feeling bitter. New York had never been a home to me.
-
-Nine days earlier-
I was sitting in the back of my mothers car, listening to the phone conversation between my mother and an unknown person.
"Yes, yes, I know. Of course. I'll be in London in two days." She told the person and puffed off her cigarrette.
"Mom?" I questioned, but was silenced by a wave of her hand.
"Don't worry. I'll have it all taken care of." She hung up and focused on driving, ignoring the fact that she'd dropped a vacation to London in a matter of days without talking to me about it all. To be honest, I was used to it.
-
A week had past since she broke the news and with no sign of her I began to make plans for what I would do. I couldn't stay by myself, being only seventeen.
I found them while I was searching for my moms stash of money, knowing that at some point I'd run out of food. Of course I had my own money, but I was being obstanant and wanted to make my mom suffer.
They were letters, birthday cards, christmas cards, things like that, sent year after year, as if not giving up.
And they were all from one man.
My father.
I spent hours on the ground, opening the endless letters that had come to me. They were so deep and thoughtful that they brought tears to my eyes.
In the final and most recent letter, there was a ticket laying in the envelope. In the letter there was a phone number.
His number.
For a second, I was overwhelemed and couldn't decide what to do. However, I knew that I desired to have a father for once, so I lifted my cell phone and dialed the number.
"Hello?" A deep but strangely youthful voice answered.
I swallowed and bit my lip, trying to get the words out that I so desired to say, but then again, I didn't know what those words were.
"Dad...." I finally whispered, biting my lip.
Silence followed, burning, aching silence. I could hear him breathing, slightly escalated and shaking.
"Allina?" He asked.
"Yeah... It's me...Nice to finally talk to you."
"Y-Yeah...no kidding...You finally got my letters?" he asked.
"Sort of." I whispered, lifting one of the letters up. "I just found them."
Another long period of silence, both of us searching for the words we wanted to say, words that would never leave our lips.
"Where's your mother at?" he finally asked.
"Gone...London I think." I swallowed a bit. "Can I come stay with you?"
-
The breeze picked up, sending my dark brown locks flying around my face in a nearly annoying whirlwind. Was the weather always this moody in the Pacific Northwest?And did always seem so dull and annoying?
My thoughts were interupted by a black 280 Z pulling up beside me. Slowly, it's black tinted windows rolled down and a young face, strikingly similar to mine.
"Hey, are you Allina...uh.." He broke off, grinning sheepishly as I nodded, recognizing him.
"Yeah...dad."