The bell above the door signaled my arrival to the diner. The owner, Sue, looked over at me and smiled slightly and turned back to look at her coffee.
Everyone has a story, living here I've come to realize that. And Sue's is not a pretty one. On a drunken rampage one night she came barging into the diner on her night off and while sobbing told me her story I had been curious of since we crossed paths. Her husband had died years ago, when her children were small and was left as a widow with two very stubborn toddlers. She stayed strong for their sake until her youngest Seth, got fed up with his life and wanted more so he packed up shoving his sobbing mother aside and set off in his pickup to bigger and better things leaving his older sister Leah to pick up the pieces of her mother. Sue's facade that she worked so hard to perfect over the years crashed down around her. About a year later, when Sue was slowly picking up her life Leah's husband left her and ran off with another women, the woman happening to be Leah's very own cousin and best friend and only friend since she spent most of her time taking care of Sue.
Leah, grief stricken, blamed her mother and turned to drugs, eventually dissapearing into the darkness along with Sue's heart. She worked so hard to build the perfect life, the all American dream, with a loving husband and perfect children. it all crashed down on her not giving her any other option but to drift away.
That night was the first night I saw her show emotion. She always worked on auto- pilot. Always looking, but never seeing. The next day she came, the same as any other day with her black silky hair tied into a tight ballerina bun and her copper skin dull as ever. Emotion absent on her face as she scrubbed down the tables.
People like Sue kept me from wallowing in own self pity. Whenever the memories of my father's fist colliding with my body came flooding back to me, The memories of those thirty-three people came back to me. Their lives were over. They would never look towards their future hoping maybe some day they would escape New York, move on leaving their dirty secrets in the past.
My father, Charlie was brutal but at least I escaped with my life. I could move on, I could hope, I could dream of another life, much different than this. Which is more than I can say for thirty- three. I started calling those people by the number because if I thought of them as people the feeling of remorse and hopelessness would resurface. I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind and started work putting everything i had into mopping the floors or restocking the napkin holders so my thoughts wouldn't drift on to something else.
Two hours into my shift a man older than myself about 25 came into the diner. His shirt to baggy for his too lanky frame and his jeans sagging to low for my taste. The thing that caught my attention was that when he smiled at me I could make out his dimples from the other side of the restaurant.
My mind flashed me a picture of a burly man with brown curls and wide brown doe eyes very similar to me own. he was smiling down at me and his dimples lite up his entire face.
The man in front of me bore no resemblance to the man I was thinking of besides this own feature.
Memories came to the front of my mind. The burly mind stepping in front of me when Charlie came home angry with a beer bottle in his hand, ready to strike. The burly man hugging me tight and soothing me to sleep while I wept. The burly man saying he wouldn't let any harm come to me. And lastly, the burly man with a suitcase swung over his shoulder looking down at my 13 year old self with sorrow in his eyes.
I could see the scene almost perfectly. Him bending down and hugging me to him, smoothing down my wild hair, tears streaming down his face. He looked like he was holding back sobs. He looked into my eyes promising me I would be okay, that he would come back for me. He told me I was strong, the best little sister he could ever ask for.
The 18 year old man, newly graduated from high school with his entire life in front of him. I was just extra baggage. I was disposable. Nothing more than a distraction while he suffered in silence from the beatings dished on him from our abusive father.
He opened the front door and turned back at me pulling on his shirt, sobs echoing though the empty house, Charlie god knows where. I got on my knees and begged. begged him to stay, or take me with him. He shook his head and gently pushed me back into the house before dissapearing into the darkness. That was five and a half years ago. I've been alone ever since.
Hey guys! Chapter 2 is up! I know this version is much darker than the first one but I thought it was appropraite and more realistic and more raw emotion that someone who was abandoned would go through. I also wanted to wait to introduce Emmett and the clan because I wanted introduce Bella, what she goes though, and how she feels about her life. I hope you like it and that it isn't terrible. So REVIEW. Tell me if you liked this one or the first one and for new readers how you like this one! Thanks everyone for reading
I DO NOT own Twilight