Inspired by a Nenia Campbell quote)
•PROLOGUE•
Ross' POV
"BEEP! BEEP! BEE-"
I throw my palm onto the obnoxious alarm clock, causing a loud slapping noise to echo around the room. I look over and, sure enough, it's exactly 6:30. I lay in bed for a bit, counting the seconds until my mother pokes her head in to make sure I'm awake.
3.
2.
1.
Right on time, the door swings open. Her plump figure comes into view, as well as her bright hair and matching smile.
"Honey, are you-" She starts, but I've already finished the sentence in my head.
"I'm up."
"Well, then hurry and get ready. Ch-"
"Church in an hour." I complete the phrase I've heard every Sunday morning for my entire life.
"Stop interrupting, Ross. It's disrespectful." Her tone turns stern in an instant.
I rip my gaze from the ceiling and redirect it to my mother, because it's also disrespectful to avoid eye contact. "Sorry, mother."
"It's okay, sweetheart. Just get ready."
"Yes, ma'am." I repeat the familiar phrase.
The door closes gently and I roll out of bed. As soon as I'm on my feet, I turn around and re-make my bed, arranging all the pillows and such perfectly before I get dressed in my usual clothes: khaki pants, loafers, and a polo collared t-shirt.
I brush my hair and teeth, then make my way swiftly down the stairs. Mother is in her usual frantic state as soon as she sees me.
"For goodness sake, Ross Lynch, why must you always stomp down those steps like a heard of elephants? And oh, my! Would it have killed you to get the wrinkles out of your shirt? This is God's house we're going to, you have to look your best when in the presence of God!" I hate when she talks to me like this, as if I am a child. I bite my tongue though, and just mutter an apology.
"No muttering, Ross. Speak clearly when spoken to."
"I said, 'I'm sorry'." She looks down on me with that usual disapproving stare, and grabs my shirt, shaking it all about in attempt to get the wrinkles out.
Sighing, she says, "Go change your shirt."
Biting my tongue once more, I turn around and slug my way up the steps.
"You choose now to walk slowly on the steps? Hurry up, child! We're running behind schedule!"
I can still hear her even as I've made my way up the entire flight, and even when I'm changing into a red polo in my bedroom. As soon as I reach the bottom step for the second time, an apple is thrust into my hand and I'm ushered rather forcefully into the car.
We drive off quickly, but still exactly on the speed limit because Mother is very particular about rules.
And then there's the usual attempt at conversation.
"Your birthday is coming up soon, Hun. Do you have any idea of what you may want?" We've gone over this several times. She's either too busy to remember or she just wants to make small talk.
"I still want an iPhone, Mother."
"Ross, I don't know if that's going to happen."
"But Mother, PLEASE. It's only logical. I'm turning sixteen at the end of the month, and I'm going to be driving a lot more. What if I get into an accident? I won't be able to call anyone for help. Besides, everyone else I know has one." I had a phone once before, when I was fourteen, but Mother claimed that it gave me a bad attitude and distracted me from my schoolwork. One time, we got into a fight and she threw it onto the tile floor, shattering it completely. I'd been asking for another one ever since.
Mother waits patiently, not speaking until I'm finished.
"Well... We'll see."
My face lights up and she chuckles to herself.
We pull up to the Church and I see all the people in a huge crowd waiting for the Church to open and start service, including my friends. Joseph, Jake, Noah, Chris, and Jack all wait for me and my mother with their parents. That's one of the many good things about being so involved in Church: you meet a lot of good-hearted people to make friends with. We quickly park and get out, making our way toward our little group in the center of the ginormous crowd.
Suddenly the freezing air gets even colder, and every pair of eyes turns to the left.
I follow their gazes of disapproval and shock, bracing myself to see something scary or even horrifying, but to my surprise I only see a small family. There's an elderly woman with a girl who looks to be about nineteen or so. Her belly is sort of rounded, but not in a usual way of weight gain. Whispers ring out from all around, saying horrible things. What are they doing here? They don't look like any of the regular people who go to our church...
The two women walk forward, all smiles, seemingly oblivious to the harsh stares from their neighbors. Before I can fully process the situation, they're in the middle of the crowd, waiting with us. They're here for the service?
The crowd suddenly jumps back with a unison gasp, parting like the Red Sea. People on all sides of me are blocking my view. justify my weight around, craving my neck to get a better view. Who could have evoked such a reaction that even the cripple elderly lady and the pregnant teenager didn't manage? I excuse myself and ignore the pleas from my mother as I nudge my way through to the front of the crowd. When I do finally reach my destination, I am beyond confused.
Straight in front of me, is a small, skinny girl staring straight into my soul with big, wide, innocent, doe eyes. She looks about my age, and rather innocent despite her nose and lip piercings and emotionless eyes. She's gorgeous.
I offer her a small, shy smile, trying to ease the tension that the local church-goers have created.
She smiles back at me with a smile that so contradicts her innocent appearance that I have to take a step back.
I bump into the middle-aged man behind me by accident.
All eyes are suddenly on me.
On her.
On both of us.
Whispers all around.
Suddenly, I am yanked back into the crowd by my scolding mother, but I can't pay any attention, as my eyes are still searching for the strange brunette girl. Muffled sounds and voices of all kinds distract me, and the crowd shields her from my view.
The church has opened, and everyone files in, but there's a big patch void of people, as they all avoid the strange new family like the plague. I watch them each enter one by one. The old woman, the pregnant teen, and, lastly, the menacing little girl with innocent eyes.
My mother and I go in last, watching as the crowd shuffles through the lobby and into the room where our service was being held. I spot the strange girl immediately. Everybody seems so afraid of her, but for some reason I can't take my eyes off of her.
My mother tells me to sit down in our usual spot before she goes off to talk to the pastor.
"Who is that girl?" I ask the creepy-looking old man sitting next to me, wide eyes still locked on the mysterious girl.
His hazy eyes follow my gaze, and then shift their focus back to me. Then, with his gruff voice, he says, "She's everything your mother warned you about when she told you not to walk alone in the dark."