Hiya! Thanks for continuing to read this! Hope you're enjoying it. Just a couple of things – I've never been to America/ Nebraska so when I'm writing, I'm literally using Google maps, film references and pure imagination to what it is like, so forgive me if you know the US well and are reading and thinking 'She has no idea what she's talking about' – you're quite right but I'm doing my best haha, you'll have to excuse me. Also, I use a lot of colloquial English terms such as the spelling of 'mum' and the use of 'fag' – it's not to offend anyone, I'm just writing as I speak and as I think, so yeah, thanks, and please continue on! ~ hereiamdestroya


As soon as Alby had had a cup of coffee and had turned around in the tight space of the seat next to yours, you cried. You didn't mean to and you struggled to keep quiet, not wanting your brother to awake from his stupor nor for the people in the seats around you to notice.

You wanted to be strong. You wanted to act like this wasn't a big deal, going home. But it was. Your parents are going to kill you too, as soon as they find out what you let Alby do. This was going to start in tears and end in tears.

By the time the plane had landed and you and Alby had managed to get out of the airport into the brisk summer air it was seven o'clock. You catch a bus quickly and head to Aurora, the only place you had ever known before you moved to LA. You feel no warmth as you drive through the town and streets you recognize and even when you haul your suitcase off the bus at the stop where you used to get off after school, you feel a sort of emptiness.

"Will mum be home?" You ask as you and Alby pace easily down the road until you see your childhood home in the distance. You fumble for one of your cigarettes and light up, ignoring the look of surprise from your brother.

"Yeah…" He says hesitantly. "Hey, can I have one?" His gaze flickers to the fag in your hand. You go to shout no at him until you realize you're already a terrible sister. How much more harm can you bring to him? "Dad lets me smoke at his and Stella's place"

You hand him one silently, and your lighter and pick up your suitcase to start walking again.

It doesn't take long till you reach your house – blue fronted windows and with a big deck outside. The house looks rather welcoming ironically, even in the evening's melancholy colouring.

One Year (approx.) prior:

"Don't you dare walk away when I'm speaking to you!" Your mother shouts, standing on the decking as she watches her eldest daughter start down the steps and onto the front lawn.

"Oh, I am walking far away! This house is tainted" You spit.

"If you hate it so much, why don't you just move out! Go live with your good for nothing father for all I care!" The dark blonde woman screams.

You'd had this argument over and over again and it always seemed to end the same. You'd storm off, stay at a friend's for the night and sneak back in in the early hours and be welcomed by evil stares and tense tight words over cereal in the morning. But this time, it felt different. You needed to leave.

"You know what – I'm sick of the pair of you. You've been the worst parents in the world these past few years. Where the hell have you both been when Alby or I needed you? You keep coming back to this house but you've never really been home, have you?" Your words are sharp and the woman only stands back a little, her expression seemingly unaffected by all that you've said.

You stare at each other for a moment or two. You might share DNA but you, mother and daughter, are nothing alike.

Before you can say another thing, Alby, your fifteen year old brother – the young boy with the mop of blonde hair and straggly limbs comes running out of the house, dressed only in a t-shirt and pyjama shorts. He should be sleeping. He has school the next day.

"Please. Stop fighting!" He shouts, calling for your attention. Both you and your mother look at him. He is the only thing that stops the pair of you from ripping each other's heads off. "(Y/N), come back inside".

You shake your head no. You're not staying in that house tonight. Within a split second, you decide that tomorrow, you're leaving Nebraska. You were pretty sure you'd have enough money to buy a plane ticket. Maybe you'd go west, head to Los Angeles. You weren't sure yet.

"I'll be back in the morning…to collect my stuff. And then I'm gone".

Stubbing out your cigarettes, it doesn't take Alby long to find his door key and as he opens the front, you feel the anxiety crawling up your throat, making you want to vomit. This was not part of the plan. You didn't want to be here. You wanted to be with James. That was all you ever wanted.

"Mum! I'm home!" Alby calls through the open living room and leaves his bag on the floor by the front door. Everything was exactly as it had been when you'd left – The dark purple rug you and your mum had managed to buy on sale years ago still lay solid in the middle of the living room, though slightly faded now.

You stand awkwardly; not being able to believe how this place feels familiar but not like it's your home.

"Al! How was Tristan's?" Your mother's voice rings loudly down the stairs as you hear her footsteps. She paces down the stairs, still dressed smartly in her work clothes and is stunned into silence when she sees both of her children standing in the living room, the youngest the tallest.

"(Y/N)" She says it like a swear word, and clamps a hand over her mouth which seems like she can't control. "What are you…" She looks to Alby and as soon as she sees the stitches on her head she runs over to him, asking what happened.

"It's a long story." Alby says quickly, before your mother turns onto you.

"What are you doing here?! Did you do this to Alby? Did you get him into some kind of trouble?" She asks without taking a breath, her cheeks reddening.

You wish you had never come back. Alby would have been okay flying on his own. You needed to leave.

"I'm just bringing him home." You tell her, eyes flickering to Alby. He stands tall.

"You've been with your sister all this time?! You lied to me?" Your mother shouts, her focus swimming between her two kids.

"Mum, I can explain, I-" Alby is interrupted immediately by the middle aged woman. You look at her but she looks so much older than when you last saw her, a year ago. She is the same height as you but she looks smaller, as though the divorce robbed her of everything, including the person she used to be.

"What did you think you'd achieve by coming back here? Did you manipulate Alby to coming to see you, huh? Is that what you did?" Your mother steps closer, her voice getting louder.

"I'm leaving" You say and before Alby can stop you, your mother grabs onto his arm and you grab your bag. Slamming the door shut, you still hear your mother scream "And don't come back!"

She has nothing to worry about.


You had pretty much no idea where to go. Pacing the streets, you ended up at a small café right in the centre of town. You ordered a coffee and sat quietly next to the window, trying to work out what to do. It wasn't empty by far, people were milling about everywhere. But you couldn't have felt more alone.

Had Alby lied when he told you he'd seen your mother crying over your picture? Could anyone really be that two faced? Or did he just say that to make you think it'd be okay to come back. You shook your head. This was a terrible idea. You pulled out your phone and dialled the number you knew off by heart.

"Hi baby. Are you guys ok?" James' voice instantly warmed you. You explained to him everything that had happened and were now waiting for his reply.

"That's insane. She kicked you out?"

"Basically…I have no idea what to do, James. I'm going to stay at a motel tonight and then I think I'll catch a flight back home tomorrow." You tell him.

"I'm…I'm so sorry".

"Don't be. Who knew what would happen?"

"You did. You said you didn't want to go back and I made you." You hear the sombre tone of James' voice over the hum of the tour bus engine.

"This is not your fault. This is mine and my mother's and our absolute defiance towards each other. Let's not talk about it. How's the driving going? You and all the guys ok?" You change subject, not wanting him to feel bad.

"Yeah it's going okay, the guys are just in the back chilling…(Y/N), I need you to promise me something".

"What?"

"I need you to promise me that no matter how bad it gets, or how bad you feel…you won't do anything to…harm yourself. Promise me". James' voice sounds thick with worry.

"Jamie, I can't promise you that…but I promise I'll try to call you whenever I feel like doing it, okay?" You know it's not much to reassure him at all, but it's all you can give him.

"I love you so much" He whispers.

"I love you. Now go, go enjoy yourself!" You try to sound uplifting but he sees straight through you, hears straight through you.

"Call me whenever you need ok. I'm thinking about you always." He tells you.

After a few more goodbyes and 'I love you's, you hang up, looking around to remind yourself there's a whole world that you and James are not the focus of. You sip your coffee slowly, wasting time and only stop once you're disturbed by a pretty woman with light brown curls and pale blue eyes. She looks in her mid-thirties, but dressed well.

"(Y/N)?" She says your name like she already knows it.

"Yes…can I help you with something?" You ask, looking up at the woman.

"I'm Stella. You must be Andrew's daughter?" she smiles brightly but your look of confusion seems to worry her. "May I sit down?" When you nod, she warily takes a seat opposite. "I guess your dad hasn't spoken about me".

"My brother told me about you…" You inform her. "How did you know who I am?"

She laughs gently but stops when she sees your expression. "He's got pictures of you in his wallet". You feel your heart drop. "You look a lot different, but I knew it was you. You have your father's eyes".

You don't say anything for a moment. So this was your dad's new wife to be.

"Your dad said you were living in California?" She begins and you nod.

"Yeah, I live in LA…I erm, I'm only back for a day – I'm leaving tomorrow" You explain but she looks a little hurt.

"Oh gosh, I was hoping you would be staying. Drew would love to see you, I know for sure…".

"Can I ask you something?" You start.

"Of course…"

"Why are you being nice to me? You do know my dad hates me right? I'm assuming he's said about what happened?" You watch the woman; she genuinely seems hurt by what you're saying.

"Oh hun, he doesn't hate you at all!"

"Then why wasn't I invited to the wedding?" You say defiantly. "He doesn't want his own child there…Alby told me about it. I wouldn't have even known if it weren't for him".

"I always wanted you to be there…I've wanted to meet you since Drew told me about you…He should probably be telling you this – he thought you wouldn't want to come and he couldn't face that rejection again…He's been picking up the phone every night for the past three months, trying to call you…but he's scared" Stella tells you, her eyes nearly watering.

"Scared? My dad? I don't think so…he couldn't wait to see me leave".

"I think you need to talk to him about all this…what are you doing here anyway? Have you been to see your mother?" Stella tries to normalize the conversation and you realize your voice was becoming a little bit too loud for public display.

"Alby came to see me - I'm guessing he lied to everyone about where he was. And he had an accident. I didn't want him flying alone so I bought him back…and my mother kicked me out…again". Stella's eyes are full of worry when she looks at you, after you explain.

"You're coming straight back to mine and your father's" She says strongly.

"It's fine…I'm going to stay at a motel-"

"Nonsense! You're staying with your family. Hayley, your mother, hasn't got her head screwed on properly. God knows I try to be nice to her, for Alby's sake, but she really is a difficult woman – not even letting her own daughter stay…I've got to pick the boys up from their hockey club, come with me…come home" Stella pleads.

You look over the woman once again. She was so different from your mother. Where your mum was hard angles, Stella was soft curves.

"Your dad's away with work for a few days but please, come back to our house…it's your house too" She smiles shyly.

You look at your suitcase next to you and back at the woman. At least it'd save you some money. She was being so nice you'd feel guilty to say no. Maybe this was the start of something good – perhaps there was something healthy, like James said, to come out of this.