The warm crisp air grazes over my skin as I hang out on the balcony of my home reading 1984 by George Orwell. The sun was setting so the sky erupted into spurts of burnt oranges and deep pinks over the Los Angeles horizon. Overlooking the palm tree decorated view I couldn't help but think it's so beautiful here. Peering into the house I see my parents cooking a storm in the kitchen for dinner. I can't help but fawn at their love for each other. They're simply making dinner together but their light touches and giggles remind me of teenagers in their honeymoon phase.

They're so happy. I thought.

I sigh, looking out at the sun that's slowly fading away I think back to my parents and our lives together. My mother, Rosemary Hale, was born and raised here in California, San Diego to be exact. She's always been eccentric, big-hearted and painfully artistic. She's an artist in many ways, she paints, sculpts and draws. Her latest passion that she's picked up is photography. My father, James Hale, is the exact opposite, no artistic bone in his body. He grew up on the east coast in a little town in Pennsylvania. He's a criminal lawyer with an aptitude for environmental rights and human rights. His job screams that he argues for a living, he does but for the right things. Two very different people with intelligence on two different ends of the spectrum. My mother is nurturing but feisty. My father is disciplined but patient. Two people that weren't supposed to click but somehow found love together.

My parents' marriage was something that both their families didn't agree with. Long story short my mothers' side was dead to her or so she says. I don't know if that is literally or figuratively speaking, I don't have the heart to ask. My father never talks about his family. He's told me that his father didn't agree with him wanting to become a lawyer and marrying my mother so he simply decided to disown him. He's never said anything more than that. When I would ask about his family he grew anxious and promised to tell me one day when I'm older.

Whenever the hell that is. I thought and never pushed the issue again.

They would tell me with their love came many challenges but they were blessed with the best gift of all; me. My name's Maeve Celeste Hale, a sarcastic and witty minx with an old soul. I'm the spitting image of my mother with my striking light green-hazel eyes, buttons nose, and full lips. The only thing I inherited from my father was his thick raven locks. Like my mother, I was graced with a creative feat. I wrote mostly short stories and poems but every now and then I would sketch when I couldn't find the comfort in words. I didn't mirror my father in looks but I gained some of his personality. Just like my father I wasn't afraid to argue or defend what I believed in or thought was right. I wasn't a pushover but I wasn't someone who didn't have compassion. A balance of sweet and spicy my mom would say.

So here I am, the first official day of summer vacation and I'm nose deep in a book instead of out celebrating the end to my long junior year of high school with my friends. It's not like I didn't want to. I had practically tried everything to reason with my parents or specifically my stubborn overprotective father. He didn't like the idea of me being 6 hours away at a friends beach house in his words, "Doing God Knows What". Upset wouldn't even begin to define my mood but instead of stomping around the house all summer I sucked it up and sulked in private.

When I realized the sun had fully set and it was too dark to read I headed inside to the kitchen. I sat at the marble grey island that was in the middle of the kitchen separating it from where my parents stood cooking.

My mother is the first to notice me," Hey Sweetie, after dinner want to go and get some dessert? Maybe ice cream from that vegan place you love so much?" She questions hopefully.

I could tell what she was doing, she was trying to buy back my affections with my favorite lactose-free dessert. Me being me I wasn't going to be bought so easily.

"No thanks, mom. After dinner, I'm just gonna head to my room and write. Hopefully all summer long." I mumbled sarcastically not bothering to look at her. My father seemed to catch my tone and turned his attention away from the stove.

"I see you're still upset, Maeve. I hope you know me saying no wasn't in my intention as a punishment," He sighs but continues, "I just think you could be doing something more productive with your time than partying with your friends."

I roll my eyes,"You know what, forget dinner I've lost my appetite." I fumed. I simply leave the kitchen and head towards my room. I appreciate that instead of following me they simply let me throw my tantrum in the privacy of my own room.

In the safety of my room, I lean against my door and take a few deep breaths. When I'm all cooled off I decide to start getting ready for bed. After doing my nightly routine: Shower, brush teeth, brush hair, skin care and moisturize my body. I head back in to my room and throw on some pajamas, which are some shorts and an old oversized t-shirt. As I get comfortable on my bed with a book I hear a knock on my door.

"Come in." I say blandly not bothering to look up from my book.

It's my mother, she closes the door and sits at the foot of my bed.

"Sweetheart, I know you're upset about not going with your friends but just know your father has his reasons for not wanting you to go," she begins," He's just a little overprotective about letting you leave on your own. You know with his job and all he's just paranoid. In its strange way, it shows he cares." She reasons.

I don't answer I simply keep reading my book.

I hear her sigh and rub my foot over the covers. "Your father and I are going to the grocery store, did you want us to bring you back anything?"

She's answered with nothing but silence. She stands up and heads to my door but before she leaves she turns around, "Your father and I love you very much. Parents sometimes do things that they can't explain to their children but it's for their safety. When you have children of your own you'll understand, "She pauses, "I love you, my little bird." She's waiting for me to say it back but I don't. After a couple of long quiet moments, I hear her turn and leave, closing the door behind her. After a few minutes, I hear them walk around the apartment and then they leave.

I'm too upset to continue reading so I put my book away, turn off the light and forced myself to sleep

— Time Skip A Couple Of Hours—

The loud ringtone of my phone wakes me up. I grab my phone off my bedside table and look at the time before I answer, it reads 1:45 AM. I swipe the answer button and groggily let out, "Hello?"

The person on the other side of the phone says, "Hello is this Maeve Hale? This is Officer Shane Mandela from the Los Angeles Police Department." I sit up and force myself out of my groggy state.

"Yes sir, this is she." I rub at my face. I feel uneasy for some reason. Anxious even.

"Ma'am I am sorry to have to tell you but your parents were just in a very bad accident on the highway." He says solemnly.

My breathing quickens, "What hospital are they at sir?!" I panic. My eyes start to mist over clouding my vision.

He pauses and lets out a deep shaky breath, "Ma'am I'm so sorry, but they didn't survive the crash."

My heart drops in my stomach I can hear a faint thump thump thump in my head. Everything around me blurs into darkness as I drop my phone and scream.

Hello Lovelies, thank you for taking the time for reading my story. I know it's a work in progress but please bear with me, this is officially (cue the trumpets and fireworks) my first time posting any of my work online! Your constructive criticism or compliments are great if you would like to leave some. But for the love of god(s) if you don't have anything nice to say don't say it, simply click off my story and read until you have something nice to say.

- XOXO Beatrix