*WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF DEATH, R*PE, DRUG ABUSE, AND OVERALL TRAUMATIC THEMES! IF YOU WILL FIND ANY OF THESE THINGS TRIGGERING, PLEASE DO NOT READ IT!*
But if not, continue and please listen to House of Memories by P!ATD to get the feel for what I was going for here. I've also put astricks around the scene mentioning r*pe, so feel free to skip it if you need to. I do not want to upset or trigger anyone.
Baby we built this house
On memories
Take my picture now
Shake it til you see it
And when your fantasies
Become your legacy
Promise me a place
In your house of memories
Huey's POV
Tears welled in the eyes of nine-year-old Huey Freeman as he kneeled before the dying body of his mother. For the first time in his young life, he had no idea what to do. His hands, covered in her blood, shook as he held them out in front of her hesitantly. His little brother was crying loudly and freely as he called out for their already dead father, shaking his lifeless body. Huey looked up from their mom to Riley, meaning to tell him something, anything, but he was at a complete loss for words.
"Huey…"
Huey's head whipped down at the sound of his mother's voice. The weak, strained tone was such a stark contrast from her normally firm, confident one that it caused the tears to finally fall as he began to sob.
"Mom, I- Don't," the child stuttered over his sentence, but it didn't matter. Ever the controlled woman even as she neared death, Amari Freeman hardened her eyes and voice as she spoke.
"Take Riley and go."
Huey's eyes widened as he looked down at her. "What?! No! We're not leaving you!"
Amari meant to reach up to cup his face, but far too weak, she settled for taking his hand. She squeezed it as hard as she could manage and willed her voice to stay even, for her tears to not fall, so she could stay strong for him. For them. So their last memories of her could remain a strong woman.
"Go to Granddad's house, Huey. Take Riley. Tell him to call the police."
"NO!" Huey shouted. This gathered the attention of the younger child and Riley was over to them in seconds, shakily calling for their mother. "I can-"
"You can't," Amari said firmly, already knowing he wanted to stay with her. Removing her hand from her openly bleeding wound, Amari took her other son's hand, staring at her two beautiful children for as long as she could before her grip started to weaken and they were blurred in front of her. "Go!"
"MOM," Riley cried, but Huey steeled himself and grabbed his brother, dragging him out of the house.
Even as Riley fought at him, Huey ran. Even as Huey's own mind screamed at him to turn back, he ran.
He ran and he didn't look back.
Baby we built this house
On memories
Take my picture now
Shake it til you see it
And when your fantasies
Become your legacy
Promise me a place
In your house of memories
Riley's POV; Seven Years Later
"Nigga, have you lost your goddamn mind?! Drugs, Riley?! You are out here selling drugs?! Who the hell you gettin' them from, Riley?! I don't bring no drugs in this house! Your brother sure don't! So, who?!"
Riley Freeman sucked his teeth. He was tired of this shit and since Granddad was really too old to do shit to him anymore, Riley decided he didn't have to take it. Turning his back on his shouting grandfather, Riley made his way to the staircase.
"Where the hell do you think you're goin'," Robert yelled at him.
Riley turned his head to give his grandfather a hard glare. "I'on gotta take this shit, nigga. Yo old ass ain't really gon' do shit."
"Boy, you bet' not-"
But Riley was done listening. He took the stairs two at a time before storming to the room he shared with his older brother, slamming the door open. He glared heatedly at the back of Huey's head. Clearly unbothered by Riley's temper, Huey turned in his chair to look boredly at his brother.
Storming over to Huey, Riley shoved him out of his seat. "You a fuckin' bitchmade ass nigga!"
Standing up, Huey stood taller over Riley and scowled down at him, but even this didn't intimidate the fourteen-year-old. "Riley, you're lucky I only told Granddad. I should've turned your dumb ass into the police! Runnin' around with Ed and Rummy is gonna get you arrested or, even worse, killed! I'm trying to help your ass!"
"I ain't ask for your 'help', nigga! I don' need it! Mind yo fuckin' business," Riley shouted and shoved Huey again.
Huey stumbled back before his glare intensified. He stepped to Riley, his voice dangerous, "Riley, I'm not fucking playing with you. Put your hands on me one more time."
Riley smirked. Well, since the nigga had asked.
Wasting no time, Riley lifted his fist, punching Huey straight in his jaw. With the force of the hit, Huey's head whipped to the side. It was silent as Huey shifted his jaw before he slowly looked back at his brother, his eyes infuriated. All hell broke loose after that.
Finally, after Granddad had come up the stairs and forced the two of them apart and yelled at the both of them, Riley stood in front of the bathroom mirror as he pressed a tissue to his lip. It was busted open, his eye was swollen shut, there were bruises forming all over his body, and his cornrows were now all fucked up and fuzzy. Riley could at least honestly say that Huey had looked just as fucked up as him when he'd stormed out of the house, and that fact brought a satisfied smirk to his face when he thought about it.
Dropping the bloody tissue into the trashcan, Riley was about to press another one to his still bleeding lip when he suddenly felt a buzzing in his back pocket. Riley pulled the prepaid phone Ed had gotten him out and flipped it open.
"Yo," he answered.
"Hi, Reezy," the voice of an older woman came through. "I need a delivery. Right now. How soon can you get here?"
Riley already knew it would take a good ten minutes on his bike and forty minutes if he walked. Madeline McPhearson lived in that really rich part of Woodcrest that was farther off. Riley didn't answer her question, instead saying, "You already know it costs extra for last minute shit." Her reply would determine how long it took him.
"And you already know that I always pay it. Now, how soon, Reez?"
Riley snickered. "See you in ten minutes, Ms. M."
He hung up the phone and left the bathroom. He went to his closet to pull out a hoodie and threw it on before he made his way to Huey's side of the room. Sticking his hand underneath the mattress of Huey's bed, Riley pulled out the stash of drugs that his older brother hadn't found and pulled out Ms. McPhearson's usual requests. Smirking, he put the others back. As smart as that nigga was, Huey would never think to check underneath his own bed.
A minute later, Riley was down the stairs and going through the kitchen to get to the door that led to the garage. He grabbed his bicycle and punched in the code for the garage door to open before pedaling out and closing it again.
By the time he was pedaling down the street, he suddenly heard the loud voice of his grandfather yelling, "RILEY, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GOING!"
Riley ignored him.
Baby we built this house
On memories
Take my picture now
Shake it til you see it
And when your fantasies
Become your legacy
Promise me a place
In your house of memories
Cindy's POV; One Year Later
Cindy McPhearson had never had a healthy relationship with her mother. Ever since she could remember, Cindy was always reminded of what a disgrace she had been to her mom, how she had ruined the woman's life, that Cindy was going to end up nothing just like her. Cindy remembered praying, and crying, and begging for the day her mom would stop the abuse, when she would be a good mother, for her to just say once that she loved her daughter, but after waiting and waiting and waiting, Cindy realized at the young age of thirteen that that day would never come.
So Cindy moved on from her.
The young girl threw herself into basketball and began to take it seriously. She pushed herself harder in school, making straight 'A's for four years straight every single semester. She made friends. She was nice, and funny, and outgoing. She refused to be anything like her mother.
And while Cindy had long moved on from expecting that woman's love, she had never thought she'd ever get to a time in her life when she at least wouldn't have her. Until she walked into the house to find her mom unconscious in the dining room. Cindy had been annoyed then and shook the woman vigorously. It was only when Madeline slumped to the ground that Cindy realized something was wrong.
Cindy wished she could forget that evening, but no matter how hard she tried, no matter what she distracted herself with, Cindy couldn't escape the fear and panic that had gripped her as her mother's eyes remained closed no matter how many times Cindy shook or hit her. The lights of the paramedics and police cars pulling up to her house. The sound of her own screams and sobs as the officers ripped her away from a woman that had never even loved her.
Forcing the memories of that day into the back of her head, Cindy slowly entered the master bedroom that had once been occupied by her mother. All her belongings were still in the exact same spot she had left them, and if Cindy tried really hard, she could kind of pretend that any moment now her mother would walk through her bathroom door, yelling at Cindy to get out. Maybe not healthy, and definitely not kind, but at least alive.
Without thinking, Cindy walked into the bathroom. She took in the cold, elegantly sea decorated bathroom before eventually meeting the eyes of herself in the large mirror in front of the sinks. She saw her mother staring back at her. The same long, blonde hair that was currently tied into a tight bun. The same wide, sky blue eyes. The same thin face, straight eyebrows, small lips, and even the tiny beauty mark at the corner of them. Cindy hadn't shed a single tear at the funeral, but now as she stood in front of the mirror, only able to see her mother staring back at her, she broke down.
Ugly sobs erupted from her throat mixed with anguished screams. Hot tears ran down her face and sunk into the collar of her dress or onto the ground. Cindy didn't know how long she had been crying when suddenly she felt too weak to even stand and her knees buckled, managing to catch herself on the sink counter before she could hit the ground. Feeling something hard underneath the palm of her hand, the seventeen-year-old paused to pull it back and saw a small baggie with two white pills inside it.
Picking it up, Cindy rubbed away the wetness from her eyes to look at them clearly. She had no idea exactly what it was, but she didn't have to. They were some bullshit drugs that her mother had constantly been strung out on. Cindy stared at them emptily. She should have been mad. She should have been furious at seeing them, but she couldn't bring herself to feel anything other than grief.
Cindy looked back to the mirror. She saw her mother and heard every single awful, nasty thing that woman had ever said to her. She remembered how that morning of the day Cindy found her, before she had left to go play basketball in the park with some friends, her mother had told her that Cindy was kidding herself if she thought she'd ever amount to anything more than what she herself was.
Cindy stared into the reflection of her eyes. "You were right," she mumbled.
Opening the baggie, Cindy poured the contents of it into her palm before shooting it back into her mouth and swallowing dryly. When Cindy looked back at her reflection, she couldn't even tell the difference between her and her mother.
It didn't matter. They were the same exactly.
Baby we built this house
On memories
Take my picture now
Shake it til you see it
And when your fantasies
Become your legacy
Promise me a place
In your house of memories
Jazmine's POV; One Year Later
"Jazmine, could you stay after, please?"
The eighteen-year-old paused in packing up her things and looked up from her bag to look at her trigonometry teacher, Mr. Thompson. She winced slightly, already knowing what she was being asked to stay after class for. Her friends paused as well, looking down at her.
"It's fine," she told them. "I'll see you guys tomorrow." Then to Mr. Thompson as her friends left, "Sure."
Mr. Thompson sat on the edge of his desk as Jazmine approached him. When she was in front of him he sighed. "Jazmine, at the rate you're going, I don't see you passing this class. I would hate to have to fail you, being that it's your final year, but you're turning in mediocre work."
Jazmine winced. "I know, I know, but I'm going to do better, I promise! Math has always been kind of hard for me, but my friends are tutoring me and I think I've really got it now. All I need is to take a couple more tests and I'll pass, I swear."
"Okay, well, you let me know if there's anything I can do to help make it easier."
Jazmine smiled brightly. "Thanks, Mr. Thompson but I've…" she suddenly trailed off her sentence when she felt the older man's hand on the side of her thigh. He gave her a smile that made her skin crawl.
*********
"I mean it, Jazmine. Anything."
"Oh… that's okay," she said uneasily and started to back away from the man but he grabbed a hold of her wrist tightly, refusing to let go even when she yanked herself away from him. "Mr. Thompson, please let me go."
The man stood up and as he did, the hand on her thigh slowly slid to cup her ass. "It's only us, Jazmine," he said. She squirmed and tried to yank at her arm some more. "You don't have to pretend. I've seen the way you look at me. What you wear every day you have my class."
Jazmine didn't even bother talking with him anymore, instead opening her mouth to shout panickedly, "HEEEELP! SOMEBODY HELP— MMFF!"
Mr. Thompson had placed his hand over her mouth. Jazmine knew he was saying something, but in the panicked state of her mind, she couldn't hear him. She writhed in his hold before opening her mouth to bite down hard at the meat of his palm.
"FUCK," the man yelled, and it was exactly what Jazmine needed for his grip to listen.
Ripping herself away from him, Jazmine began to run for the door of the classroom. The second she reached it and her hands wrapped around the doorknob, he came from behind her and slammed it back shut just as the door had cracked open. She then felt a strong arm wrap around her waist and his hand cover her mouth and nose as Mr. Thompson easily lifted her short body off of the ground.
"NO!" Jazmine's cry was muffled by his hand. Tears began to prick in her eyes as she kicked and elbowed in a blind panic.
Soon, her teacher was throwing her over his desk, his hand still covering the bottom half of her face. She felt him press into her from behind and heard the unbuckling of his belt.
"Stupid bitch," the man hissed out. Jazmine, still screaming, tried to kick him off at the feeling of him roughly pulling down her jeans, but he held her firmly against the desk.
He then spoke some more but Jazmine didn't hear it. It was as if she was bound underwater. She couldn't hear, couldn't move, and her sobs and screams went unheard. She could only feel disgusted as he had his way with her.
*********
"…mine …Jazmine!"
Jazmine gasped and snatched her arm away as she felt someone touch it. She slowly relaxed as she looked around, remembering that she was in the car with her father and not in the small classroom.
"Sorry, Dad," she mumbled and looked out of the window, watching the scenery blurring pass.
Tom looked at his daughter concernedly and Jazmine pretended not to notice it. She knew he was worried about her, he'd worried relentlessly over her for the past four years ever since the first time they moved, but she didn't know how to assuage his fears anymore. She was tired of trying.
"Jazmine, I know it's been hard for you," she heard her dad saying and emptily listened, "but it's going to be okay. We won't tell anyone. About any of it."
Jazmine rolled her eyes. She felt the car slow, saw the blurs of trees and houses become more defined as her dad drove down Timid Deer Lane. Feelings of anger, fear, and grief settled heavily in her chest.
Her eyes burned as if she was about to start crying, but they stayed dry. She scowled. "Why'd we have to come back here?"
The only reason that they had left Texas was because of her. Jazmine couldn't take the whispers and stares and rumors that followed her everywhere she went. She could barely get through her classes or talk to anyone without going off on them. However, when she couldn't even pass through the hallway of her old math class without breaking down, shaking and screaming at the sight of the door, her dad had enrolled her in another school so fast and they were gone by the end of the week. Again.
What Jazmine didn't understand was why they had to move back to Maryland. Back in Woodcrest, of all places, the same place the only other worst moment of her life had happened.
"It's going to be good this time," Tom answered, even though that wasn't the question Jazmine had even asked.
The car slowed to a stop in front of their new house as both Tom and Jazmine looked out at it. Jazmine scowled.
She couldn't believe she was back in the town she hated more than anything.
Two Years Later
For the first time since high school, Huey, Riley, Cindy, and Jazmine were all back together in the same room under horrifying circumstances. It wasn't quiet in the house with the sound of pictures being taken, police officers walking around and talking, and Jazmine's sobs and hiccups, but none of them heard a single thing as they watched the dead body that they had discovered in the bathroom be rolled out.
a/n: told y'all i was writing some dark stuff, and here's why: i am writing a new story called We Have Shared Trauma where it follows Huey, Jaz, Cindy, and Riley, who all hate each other, as a murderer who killed the one friend they shared starts stalking and terrorizing them. if you can guess by the title and you know, this whole freaking chapter, i'm giving these bitches TRAUMA! i'm fucking them up! it's going to be really sad, so if you feel like you can't or don't want to read it, don't! it includes very dark themes such as r*pe, self-harm, drug abuse, and more. i don't want to trigger anyone.
anyway, y'all i legit CRIED while writing this. i had to stop because i was upsetting myself so much. like it hurts me to see these characters hurt AND knowing what i'm bout to do to them in WHST? i'm evil. truly, the worst. so if you're as upset as i am go back to the last chapter and read some huey and jazmine being cute and untouched by my mean, awful hands.
that's it! as y'all were. peace