Chapter 1: Driving Towards Hell

A story by Yellow Smoke

Alle right's belong to their rightfull owners.


Year 1956


The Greyhound bus was growling underneath her like a dog, as it ran across the field and attacked its enemy, it's teeth sinking into the soft part of the neck. While it viciously tore its head back and forth, until blood began to spill from the open wound.

That was however nothing more than Willow's imagination. Something her mother claimed more than often had run off with her, because in truth the Greyhound bus wasn't growling, it was just the sound of the motor, as the bus slowly moved along the road, trying to reach its final destination.

A destination that filled Willow with more dread than joy.

For hours she had tried to pretend that she was going on an adventure. That had actually been her primary thought since her mother followed her to the Grand Central train station in New York two days prior, and had said her goodbye with little to no emotions. The place had been packed with people, with men going on business trips, in their striped suits, and families going on vacations to see their beloved ones. Lovers had kissed goodbuy, and tears had been shed. But Willow Cross, and her mother Jane Quinn had simply stared upon one another for a very long time, while both of them tried to think of something. The truth was there hadn't been much to say, and everything that could be said had already been said prior to this departure.

With the train behind her, it had become clear to Willow that her mother had moved on to a better life, and the problem was that Willow wasn't a part of the new picture. She was a child born out of wedlock, with a father that chose to leave before she was old enough to remember him. Sometimes she actually wondered if he ever even had met his own child, and all she got from him was his last name… Cross.

Willow was to be honest, a mistake in her mother's life, and now she was about to be shipped off to some godforsaken small town, so her mother didn't have to worry about her. It was like sweeping the dust underneath the rug, it was still there, but you didn't have to think about it, and no one would know.

And that was the keyword to all of this, Willow's mother didn't want her fiance to know anything about her accident 16 years ago. Oh Willow had heard plenty about this so-called Richard Thompsen, her mother had barely spoken about anyone else these last few weeks, as she used all day getting ready for another date with dear Richard. She spoke about him as she made dinner, and she spoke about him as Willow helped style her hair. Richard, Richard, Richard. Yet, although Willow knew everything about this man, who had some kind of important job in the economic world, Richard had never heard of her.

Because Richard had lost his own wife two years prior, and was looking for another single to settle down with, get married and have kids despite the late age, and Jane, her own mother, saw no reason to get Willow mixed into it. All Richard knew was that poor Jane had lost her own husband just a half year ago, but was ready to move on, and was most importantly childless. That was of course one big lie, mostly created to hide the truth, which was Jane Quinn never had been married, and did in fact have a child… and Richard was just one out of many men.

Jane had been what most people would describe as a wild teenager. She had grown up in a small town in Washington State, but had fled as soon as she turned eighteen, while keeping a minimum of contact with her family, as she had partied her way through New York. Willow could only assume she had met her father somehow along the way, and had become pregnant, after which her father had fled quickly, leaving her mother with a child and no money. It was still a mystery to Willow why her mother had chosen to keep her, at least for so long, but she had, and Willow had to assume she had tried to do her best. It just wasn't good enough.

Her mother had rented a very tiny small apartment, and had then proceeded to date one man after another, while living on his money, until he got tired of her, or realized she actually already had a child. There had been months where they had starved, and times where they couldn't afford the rent, but her mother had continued her lavish lifestyle while Willow had watched confused.

And now the apartment was already packed, as everyone was ready to leave it. Although Jane was going to live in luxury, while Willow was about to live in a shithole. Just three months ago Richard finally got down on his knee, and Jane was about to become Mrs. Thompson, a married respectable woman, just like she had dreamt off. Her only problem had been how to get rid of her own daughter, but apparently there was a solution for everything, and in this case it was called family.

Willow's mother had never introduced her to her own family, and her daughter only knew they lived in the state of Washington. But when Willow began to stand in the way, her mother finally decided to write to her brother, whom to Willow's surprise had agreed to take her in, to her mother's obvious relief. She hadn't really asked Willow if she wanted to leave, she had simply written back to her brother that everything was in order, and her brother had sent the necessary train and bus tickets. Willow was surprised he had paid for them, and she was about to be shipped off to live with some strangers.

But her mother had nevertheless brought her to Grand Central train station, with two suitcases, both packed lightly as her mother never had bothered to buy much for her daughter. It was only herself, which was clear, as Willow thought of the contrast between them that day.

Her mother had worn a brand new emerald colored dress, made in the finest silk, with a small fox fur around her shoulders and neck. A gift from her dear Richard. She even wore new polished black high heels, and a necklace made of real shining white pearls. Not to mention her expensive perfume that made her smell like roses, and her blonde curls had elegantly been styled that morning.

All while Willow wore her old red coat, and her blue skirt which had been used far too many times, while her mother had tried to bleach her shirt to keep it white, but all of it were clearly fading. Her suitcase didn't even contain anything of quality, only clothing, some books and a few pictures were really the only things that belonged to her, as her mother had gotten rid of all the old furniture. They had no place in her new rich home, and just like the furniture Willow felt thrown out, although she couldn't be left at a dumpster.

But standing by the train, the contrast was clear in every way, and one would almost think that Mrs. Jane Quinn was sending her servant away, not her daughter, not that there was much resemblance between them. Both of them were equally tall, and Willow had luckily inherited her mother's slim frame and height, but apart from that, they looked like night and day. Jane Quinn had the famously known blonde Quinn hair, which she had spent hours curling, as it was straight, while Willow had been gifted with natural curls. It was about the only thing her mother actually envied about her, as they naturally framed her face. But while her mother had been given beautifull blonde hair, Willow's own hair was brown, in a light hue that almost reminded her about honey.

And while Willow had been kissed by the sun, as her skin always seemed to be slightly tanned, her mother was born pale as the day, if not slightly red, something she always tried to hide with powder. It was only really their eyes that carried some kind of resemblance, as Jane Quinn's baby blue eyes were reflected in hers, but mixed with green and grey hues, leaving Willow's eyes in a strange color. But her mother wouldn't call it appealing.

As they said their goodbyes, Willow heard the whistle in the air, as the train hissed, making it clear to everyone that it was ready to leave, and she and her mother had just stared at one another, unsure what to say. To Willow the worst thing was that there was no remorse or sadness in her mother's eyes, although she was about to depart from her only child, her sole companion for the last 16 years, and she felt nothing, but at last her mother most have realized she had to say something.

"Sweet Willy, I will try to write to you as often as I can," she told her with one of her fake smiles, mostly reserved for older gentlemen, as she brushed a bit of Willow's hair away from her face, and used her nickname. Although it's use didn't make Willow feel loved as she did once. It was however a sad excuse, because Willow already knew there would be no letters, as she couldn't afford to let her new husband know of her own child. As far as Willow could see, this was a final goodbye between the two of them, as she doubted her mother ever would find a place for her in her new life.

"Remember to send a photo of you at your wedding," Willow tried to say kindly, but once more she knew it would be an empty promise, there would be no photo sent to her.

And that had been the last goodbye between mother and child, as there was no more words to say, as her mom kissed her forehead for a last time, before Willow finally got onboard the small crowded train, with her red suitcase in hand. She had smiled and waved as the train slowly pulled her away from her mother, and at last Jane Quinn had disappeared from her eyesight, and was there no more.

And Willow had been left alone with all of her books and thoughts, because she was going to travel for a long time, before she reached her destination. First with a train from New York to Chicago, before Willow had taken another train from Chicago to Minoappolis, and thereafter she finally had to take a last train to Seattle, before she got on the Greyhound… her destination Leavenworth.

Leavensworth was the exact same shithole her mother had fled from just a few years before Willow was born, but she clearly had no quarrels sending her own daughter back there, to live with her brother and wife. Willow had never been to Leavenworth herself, but her mother had complained about it over the years, and so Willow knew what to expect. She knew it was the opposite of her beloved New York, filled with life and joy. Leavensworth was hell on this earth, filled with rainy days and forest as far as the eye could see. Her mother had always told her the people there lived in another century, and it was the definition of hell, yet that was where she chose to send her only child. From what Willow could gather, they thankfully had a small highschool, due to the rising number of young people in the town, just like they had a small cottage hospital and a police station, although Willow doubted any of it could be used.

She hadn't even met her uncle and aunt before. Her mother had spoken about Frank and Patricia Quinn, but they had never been introduced, as she hadn't been to Leavensworth, and they hadn't come to New York. Willow didn't even know what they looked like, and would have to guess they were waiting at the bus stations when she arrived, as she hadn't seen a single photo of them. All she knew was that her mother and uncle had grown up together as brother and sister, living with her grandparents, which both had died years ago. Apparently her grandfather, Mr. Quinn had been a Horse Breeder, the best in all of Washington state, if not the United States, and his family had lived well, better than most. He had sold his whole business just a few years before he died, as none of his children wished to continue the legacy, and had moved from the farm to a small town house. Which her uncle Frank had inherited after his death. But just like she never had met her uncle, she had never met her grandfather or seen the house.

Frank on the other hand was, according to her mom, the town's only police officer, which told something about how little happened in that small town. Little enough for him to be the only cop in the whole area and neighboring towns as well.

Willow's mother had described his wife as being obsessed with Christ, something that made Willow shutter, as she had no passion for religion herself. To her it seemed wasted. But according to Jane Quinn, Patricia went to church every Saturday, and had dated Frank since they were sixteen. Her mother had even explained to her in detail how Patricia was barren, and couldn't have any children, which according to her mom made her one crazy lady. And it made Willow shutter, and wonder why her mother was doing this to her.

But as Willow looked at the passenger beside her, she knew there was another reason her mother didn't want her around anymore. Actually she knew her mother had tried to get rid of her for years, and in a way she understood her, as she got the small metal box from her pocket, and opened it. It was one of those tiny things, made to carry pills, with a small red cross on the top, and Willow had used it for as long as she could remember.

And like she had done so many times before, she grabbed one out of many tiny white pills and swallowed it without thinking twice. It was just a simple aspirin, made to make a headache go away, but to Willow it was like eating candy, and she felt how her shoulders started to relax slowly, and once more she was able to focus.

There was a part of Willow that knew it wasn't healthy to eat that many aspirins a day, but it was that or going mad, and she didn't want to end up like mad people did.

It had started since before she could remember, but her mother had clearly been the first one to notice, as she had filled her with pills from a young age, and told her to shut her mouth each time she mentioned she saw "them". And over the years she had learned to remain quiet, but the people never disappeared.

She could still recall the first time she had told her mother, that the lady in the white dress had told her to tell her mother, she had to find a suitable husband or get a job. Willow had been no more than four years old, and had simply done what the older lady in the white dress had told her to do. But it caused her mother to turn around, with fury in her eyes as she stared at her own daughter for only a second, before Willow had received a slap across the face, hard enough to send her crying to the bathroom, with blood running out of her nose. Her mother had later sort of told her she was sorry, and had given her one of the white pills, telling Willow it was important she took one when the people started to talk. And it was important Willow never repeated what they said.

And Willow, being four years old, had done as her mother asked.

Back then she hadn't been able to understand what she saw, and it had scared her to no end, but as she stared at the man sitting beside her in the bus, she knew what she was seeing. And she knew why only she could see them.

It wasn't because he looked that much different. Willow didn't even know this man, who could be no more than twenty five, with blonde curls and baby blue eyes, and a slim body. He wore a black leather jacket, and Willow could only assume he had been riding a motorcycle when he left this life. The damages on his face and body at least suggested so, as bits of gravel and dirt could be seen in his wounds, which covered most of his body. His clothing was almost ruined, and Willow could see how blood was dripping down on the floor. Wet slimy blood, drop by drop.

But no one else, except Willow saw him, because no one else was cursed like she was.

She had realized it was ghosts when she was around eight years old. She had decided to take a shortcut through a local graveyard to get home from school, but it had been a horrorshow without an end, as she suddenly had been surrounded by people, all pale, and some of them damaged beyond recognition. The sight itself had made Willow run back home as fast as she could, and crying she had realized just what she had seen all these years, which was dead people.

And even the pills couldn't make them go away. Over the years Willow had learned nothing could make them leave, and her only relief was that the pills made them go somewhere quiet, as their voices became nothing more than mumbles, with meaningless words. And Willow would do everything to keep it that way. She had done so for as long as she could remember and had no intentions of ever getting to know what they were saying.

Because Willow didn't want to become a crazy person, although she deep down knew she was slightly crazy, because no one saw ghosts. Ghosts didn't exist, and Willow had come to a point where she simply tried to ignore them, but it was almost impossible when a bleeding guy was sitting next to you on the bus, staring at you, while he clearly tried to say something.

The only good thing Willow had learned about these ghosts was that they could touch her. They were like air, although they looked solid like a human, but a single touch and your hand would go through.

And so Willow simply turned her head the other way, and looked out of the window, as she tried to ignore the man's presence, as he tried to get her attention. He scared her to be honest, and she could only assume that he was connected to something. Either the bus, or one of the few people inside it, if not this location along the road. Willow couldn't help but wonder what it was that kept him right here, as she had learned over time that every ghost was connected to something. It could be a house, or an object, a place or even a person. Willow had learned this, as the old lady had stayed at their apartment for years, desperately trying to talk to Willow, and at last she had realized that the ghost was connected to her mother… and over time she had realized it was her own grandmother, who had come to haunt them in her afterlife.

But just a few months ago, she had suddenly disappeared as her mother got engaged, and Willow could only be thankful.

Not that Willow thought there was much to be thankful about, as the bus drove past the Welcome Sign, that told Willow they had reached Leavenworth.

And as they drove past all the green trees, houses began to appear, all made in wood and painted white, with black roofs. A few had been daring enough to paint their house green or perhaps grey, but really it was a sad sight. And as they got closer the houses got slightly bigger, and most of them were built in red bricks with white windows, and soon Willow realized they had to be on the mainstreet, as she eyed a butcher, a baker, and a small grocery store, the name of the store unknown to her. She even eyed a small hospital, and her future school, before the bus seemed to stop in front of the town square, and Willow could only assume the pathetic red brick building in front of them was some kind of town council.

But the Greyhound sighed as the motor was turned off, and Willow was forced to take her suitcases, and step outside the petrol blue monster, which had brought her to this godforsaken place. The five other people stepped out of the bus as well, and Willow noticed the blonde ghost followed another older man outside, but she turned around before he would try to get contact with her once more.

Willow however felt claustrophobic as she stepped outside, not because the space was tiny, but because so many eyes were resting on her, watching curiously, and she quickly chose to look down. Ghost always stared at her, but in New York no living person had a reason to look… but here, here everybody was staring, because it was a small community, and everyone knew everybody.

Willow had no doubt that they had heard Mr. Quinn's niece was coming to live with them, and naturally they were curious, but Willow hated any kind of attention.

Desperately she began to look for her uncle and aunt, hoping they were here somewhere, and could get Willow away from this place, and it didn't take her long to spot a white and black beaten up old police car, with a man beside it, who seemed to be staring at her as well.

He looked as though he was in his forties, and was a tall broad man, with broad shoulders and a bit of fat around his belly, showing he didn't live a bad life. His hair had clearly been blonde once, like her mother but it seemed as though most of it had fallen off in an early age and he only had hair on the side of his head, while his baldness on top was hidden by a blue cap. He was wearing pretty plain clothes, an old green lumberjack shirt and some jeans that had seen better days. Not to mention his boots, which clearly had been worn since before Willow was born.

And his eyes bore themself deep into hers, and she instinctively knew it had to be her uncle, as he had the same baby blue eyes as her mother, and the same slightly red skin, as though he was forever sunburned. Except he didn't try to hide it with layers of makeup. This man was in every way the small town cop Willow had imagined, and she couldn't help but notice the old pale man beside him.

He was one of those people whom only Willow could see, and although Willow knew it was dangerous to look at a ghost too long, she couldn't help but stare, as she got a feeling this might be her dead grandfather. She knew starring would make them realize that she could see them… but this man was family, and it was strange for her to watch. This man however, had clearly died of old age somehow, as he seemed to have more wrinkles than most men, and had clearly lost weight at last. But his blue eyes made it clear he was related to the living person beside him, and the black cowboy hat suggested that he might have had something to do with a farm. Like horse breeding.

He did however seem kind of sad, if not angry, as he kept staring at the living man who was his son, but not a word seemed to leave his mouth. And Willow could only assume he over the years had learned that there was no point in trying to talk. And with the pills in her system, Willow could only hear murmurs, and whispering of the past.

And so she quickly chose to look away, before the old man realised she could see him. And instead she focused on the living world instead, and stared at the man in front of the police car.

The man didn't make any kind of move toward Willow, but the way he stared at her made it clear he was expecting her, as he smoked the rest of her cigarette while she stepped closer, before he threw it on the ground and crushed it with his boot.

"Are you Frank Quinn?" Willow asked, rather unsure of herself, as this in every way was an uncomfortable question. Mostly because it was clear to Willow that this man was Frank Quinn, but he had in no way tried to introduce himself or help her, but had just been waiting by his car.

"The only one here in town," the man, who now could be identified as Frank answered, as his blue eyes pierced into hers, although no smile appeared on his face. "You must be my sister's daughter, Willow Cross." Frank then said, and Willow noticed how rough and hoarse his voice sounded, like someone who had smoked too many cigarettes over the years. Which only was confirmed as he coughed into his sleeve.

"Indeed, it's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Quinn, my mother has often told me about you," Willow said, and tried to fake a smile on her lips, as this situation felt awkward as hell to both of them, and it was true. Her mother had spoken about Mr. Quinn, just not very often, and she rarely said anything nice about him. And so far Willow could only confirm her mother's words, because Frank Quinn was not a man who liked to talk, clearly.

"Just call me Frank… or uncle," Frank told her, slightly unsure about the last name, as he gave her a small smile that made him slightly friendly for a moment, before it ended. "Now, let's get your bags into the trunk… this is everything you got with you?" he asked, and stared at her two small suitcases, which he slightly impolite took out of her hands, only to confirm they weighed nothing. "Hmm," he gruffed, and didn't even wait for an answer, as he got into the car behind the wheel, and Willow quickly got in beside him on the passenger seat.

And the old ghost seemed to get into the car as well, as Frank got a pair of sunglasses on, despite the fact the sun hadn't been anywhere near Leavenworth for years.

"So, do you and your wife live far from the mainstreet?" Willow asked, as she tried to make some kind of small talk, as Frank brought the old car back to life with a roar, and began to drive. Although the car was old, it was nicely kept on the inside, still, Willow found it a bit strange to drive in a police car when she hadn't done anything. But at least she wasn't on the backseat behind bars.

"Only a few roads away, you should be able to walk to school on your own," Frank answered, as though that had been what Willow wanted to know. The question hadn't even crossed Willow's mind yet, although Frank seemed to think that was what she really wanted to know.

"How nice…" Willow muttered, unsure what else to say, which left them in an uncomfortable silence once more, as Willow didn't know what to say, despite the fact they had so much that should be discussed.

Frank seemed to be thinking for a few minutes as well, as he drove past several roads, and almost on cue it began to rain, as though the town itself wanted to welcome Willow, and show her just what it had to offer. Which was rain and green trees.

"So how is your mother doing?" Frank finally asked, as it became clear there was little to talk about. "We haven't seen her around here for quite a while, but i heard she found some fancy bloke upstate?" he asked, although it wasn't much of a question, he knew she had found the one, or Willow wouldn't be here.

"Her and Richard are getting married next month, so i believe she is doing just fine…" Willow trailed off, unsure how to answer such a question. Because in her mind her mother had to be doing just fine, if she wanted to ship Willow off to the end of the world. Something Frank seemed to pick up, as he looked at her for just a second behind his sunglasses, before he focused on the road once more.

"Marriage doesn't really have space for illegitimate children, does it?" Frank asked, although it wasn't meant to be answered, and for a moment Willow could swear his eyes almost seemed sympathetic behind the colored glass, although it was brief.

"I wouldn't really be here if there was, would i?" Willow asked with a sigh, as she stared down at her hands, and tried to keep the tears at bay that threatened to spill. Her whole life had been torn apart by her mother, just because she had to get married, and now she was placed in some shithole with strangers who claimed to be family.

"You know… it's probably for the best," Frank tried to say, although there was little comfort in his words, and Willow couldn't really see what was better about this place than New York. Actually, everything here was way worse than New York.

"I suppose so…" Willow muttered under her breath with a sighed, as nothing about this place seemed better than New York. She was about to become someone people noticed and gossiped about. It was going to happen no matter what in such a small town like Leavensworth, but she hated to be the center of attention, and she knew how they were going to talk about her. At first people would try to like her, but then she was going to be the strange girl from the big city, and she would be friendless once more. She had been friendless as well in New York, but there no one noticed you in the crowd, and Willow did just fine without company.

"Soon you won't even think about the big city anymore," Frank tried to say, as though it was meant to be a comfort, even though it was anything but. "Leavensworth got everything a girl at your age needs. Here you get to finish High School, and Patricia will teach you everything there is to know about running a house," he told her, as though that was what any girl wanted to do with their life. "Who knows… maybe you will find a sweet boy here. I heard recently that the Harrisons boys are looking for someone," he added, and Willow almost wanted to shutter.

She doubted whoever this boy was, was anything for her. He was probably some dumb kid who couldn't count to five, and Willow would rataher stay as far away from him as possible. To be honest marriage wasn't really her thing, even though her uncle seemed rather sure about it, and her mother had shown her more than enough. Willow had no intentions of ever marrying or just dating any boys, life was simply too short for that kind of thing.

"That sounds… lovely," Willow said softly, unsure what else to say, as the truth clearly wasn't welcome, at least not for now.

"We just want to make sure you don't end up like your mother," Frank told her, and his eyes looked dead serious as he stared at her, and Willow realized he meant it.

She could understand that to this town, her mother was the one who had been running wild, and now her brother was taking care of her mess. If only her uncle knew that Jane Quinn had very few regrets, but Willow doubted he would like to know that piece of information.

Thankfully Frank didn't manage to say more about her situation, before he finally turned around a corner, and it became clear they had arrived.

The house was on Birch Street, number 16, just on the corner. The house itself was boring, like the rest of the neighborhood, made in red bricks, trimmed with white wood on the edges, white windows and a black roof. It was in every way a typical american home, shaped like a small box with a porch, and the american flag waving in the front yard, as Frank parked the car at the white garage, made out of wood, and placed just beside the house.

And just as Frank turned the motor off, Willow watched as a woman opened the front door, and began to wave.

"Listen…" Frank began, and suddenly starred very intensely at Willow, as he removed his sunglasses, and with narrow eyes gave her a glare that could kill. "You mother wrote to me and asked me to take you in, and I did so without hesitation, because you are my family. But that woman on my porch is family as well," he warned, and made it clear whom he thought off as his closest relative. "And she is… she is fragile," he warned, and leaned slightly closer, as he once more became threatening. "So you better treat her nice," he warned, and his voice was barely more than a whisper, but it was enough to scare Willow senselessly.

"Understood…" she muttered, and suddenly had no doubt that the policeman of Leavenworth meant it seriously, and if Willow hadn't liked him before, she surely didn't like him now.

"Good… i am not trying to frighten you kid… i just want you to understand things run differently here," her uncle sighed, and didn't stay to see her face expression as he opened his own car door, and stepped outside.

Willow stayed for just a second longer, as fear seemed to pulse through her , but as she began to feel Frank waiting on her, she took a deep breath, and stepped outside the car. All while she kept telling herself that Frank was a nice man… he was just slightly rough around the edges.

She tried to prepare herself for yet another meeting, as she grabbed her suitcases from the trunk. Frank might claim he was a true man, but he certainly wasn't a gentleman, as he never as much as offered to carry one of her suitcases, and instead walked in front of Willow up on the porch, to where a woman Willow assumed was her aunt Patricia was waiting impatiently.

At first glance she seemed like a somewhere likeable lady, but according to her mother, she only had to open her mouth, and her high pitched voice would send anyone in the opposite direction. She was a thin lady, tall in fact, and her figure most of all reminded Willow of a stick, clothed in floral patterned dresses, while a small white apron was the only contrast to all the pink colors and flowers.

All members of the Quinn family were known for their blonde hair, like her mother and Franks, but Frank had clearly chosen a dark haired wife, whose hair had been tamined into a tight bun on the back of her head, which only made it more obvious how thin she was. And while Frank had baby blue eyes, Patricia seemed to have grey eyes, like death itself. Actually the more Willow observed her new aunt, the more she thought she looked like someone dead, with her pale skin and sickly thin body. In contrast Patricia and Frank was quite the couple, as he was broadsholderd and seemed to have an almost red face, while she was thin and white as a sheet.

"Willow my dear, I thank the lord for your safe arrival, and welcome!" she greeted with her known high pitched voice, and pulled Willow into a hug as soon as she got within reach, and poor Willow was almost hauled up on the porch, surprised her fragil aunt had that kind of strength.

And while Patricia held her in her arms, she could smell her floral perfume, which did nothing to make her likeable, as it was far too fruity and sweet for Willow's liking.

"Thank you Mrs. Quinn," Willow muttered, as she finally got out of her hug, and looked at the boney lady in front of her… just as something behind Patricia caught her eye.

Willow was so used to being able to see ghosts, that her brain sometimes managed to oversee them at first, but as she looked over her aunt's shoulder, she stared straight into a younger man's face.

He had to be in his mid twenties when he had died, clearly from a gunshot wound as blood was seeping from his right temple, just above the eye. He was in every way a pretty face, with brown curls and pretty brown eyes, and Willow couldn't help but notice that he kept reaching for Patricia, as though he wanted to say something. But Willow immediately decided to ignore him, as he hadn't noticed she had stared at him yet, and it was best for everyone if he never got to know.

"Call me Aunt Patsy sweet girl," Patricia said, and brought Willow out of her thoughts, as she began to usher her inside. "Now come in, come in, before we get soaked in the rain, me and Frank have been so excited for you to be here" she continued to talk, as Willow stepped into their small hallway, and stared at her surroundings.

Because nothing in this house seemed to be following the style of the fifties, and it rather looked like something that belonged to an old couple, which it probably had, Willow reminded herself. This house had after all once been her grandparents, and judging by the furniture, nothing had changed since.

Most walls in the house had been painted green years ago, in a sickly color Willow didn't like at all, and it was nothing like her home in New York. Sure her mother's taste hadn't always been great, but she would have passed out, had she been surrounded by furniture from another century, all wooden and out of style.

And the house itself was small. On the ground floor was a small entry, which led into the dining room, or upstairs. The dining room itself was the living room as well, and the small room was packed to the brim with useless stuff, old green couches, and far more figurines of cats than Willow would like to count. The kitchen itself wasn't grand in any way either, and someone had tried to paint the cabinets pastel green a few years ago, but to Willow it really did nothing, except making the space even more green and ugly.

And upstairs were no different, as Patricia showed her her new room with excitement. The floor only had two bedrooms, and a bathroom to share, and while the largest room was the master bedroom, Willow had been given the spareroom, which in a sense was fine. It was just as tiny with her old room, only enough space for a small drawer, a single bed and a desk, while a mirror had been hung on the door, but the problem wasn't really the space… it was the colors.

Dear Mrs. Quinn had more than once been pregnant, hoping that she wouldn't miscarry this time, and each time this room had been waiting for the small baby to arrive, and each time the baby died before it managed to take its first breath. But the room had been ready, and as Patricia always had wanted a girl, the room had been painted in a light pink, which it still had. Much to Willow's distaste. The crib had of course been removed, but her aunt had clearly wanted to keep the theme as she had brought Willow a pink bedspread, filled with flowers.

And if Willow ever had liked pink, she certainly no longer did.

It was almost a relief to her when Aunt Patricia left the room, and allowed her to unpack, while she prepared supper. To Willow it was almost as though a weight was lifted off her shoulders as the door was shut close, and she collapsed against the door, slowly sliding down, as she placed her knees against her chest, and hugged herself close for a moment, as if to comfort her own soul.

All of this felt like such a mess, if not a curse, and although Willow always had felt like an outsider, this was far worse than in New York. This was a small town, where everyone knew everybody, and although some of her new classmates would find her exciting at first, she would easily become the freak within a week.

"This is such a mess," Willow muttered to herself, as she leaned her head against the door, and stared up at the ceiling.

All while she tried to comfort herself that this wasn't forever, and that she would return to New York some day.

But that day seemed so far away.

And so slowly she stood up, and walked to the other end of the room, and stared outside her small window. She had been given a view of their backyard, not that there was much to look at. Except her uncle Frank, who was sitting by the shed in a chair, smoking while he held a beer in his hand. All while whom she presumed was her grandfather was standing behind him, staring with sorrow in his eyes.

And without thinking, almost like a reflex, Willow pulled a hand into her pocket, and got yet another pill from her small metal box, which she swallowed whole.

And as the voices faded away once more, she felt the numbness she knew so well, and wondered if it could numb the pain in her heart as well.


So this is just a story i am writing for fun, mainly focused on Edward and my OC, with a lot of Cullen interraction. Now a warning to everyone, i am from Denmark, English is not my native language, so there is mistakes. But i know it's possible to read... so please no comments about spelling mistakes, because sorry, but i hoenstly don't care. Now have a nice day, and leave a review!