saving grace

Chapter 1: Life, Los Angeles, and Liquor

You were a young woman, lost in the big city. You turned 24 earlier this year and you had no clue what you wanted to do for your life. You moved from the small Midwestern town where you were born and raised. Ohio hadn't felt like home in a long time. You made your way to Los Angeles, hoping to discover your drive again. Ever since your mother passed, you were severely depressed. Your father was a conservative asshole who never understood you, but your mom, your mom was your world. She was able to read you like the back of her hand. One look and she could tell your every thought running through your head, even if you didn't even know what you were thinking yet.

She died when you were 19, right before you finished your freshman year of college. Getting that phone call was the absolute worst moment of your entire life. You felt like you were drowning. You couldn't even speak, laying in your bed for days until your best friend dragged you out of bed. Hallie, she was one of the biggest lights of your life. She led you to the shower, washed your hair and body, and maneuvered your limbs through the exhaustingly heavy clothing. She drove you to the funeral home where you sat in a chair, holding your mothers hand in the casket. You didn't speak to a soul, hardly able to believe the sight before you. Your world was really gone. After that day, Hallie wanted you to move in with her, scared for what the days ahead held for you.

Although Hallie was your light, you couldn't bear holding her to such responsibility. She was just graduating high school herself and you promised yourself that you wouldn't be the reason for any tragedy in her life. There was absolutely no chance in hell that you were going to stay with your father.

After facing the harsh reality of your life, you decided to ask your neighbor, well your father's neighbor, if you could stay with her for a while. She was more than a neighbor to you, she was your second mom. You were blessed to not only have a biological mom, but another mother in your life that would do absolutely anything for you. Her daughter, Emily, and yourself had become great friends over the years. She was only a few months younger than you and you found so much comfort in her and her family.

Mama, as you called her, didn't take two seconds to answer your question with a yes. She opened her door to you without hesitation. Although you were beyond thankful for her advice, love, and maternity, you never felt complete. Your biological mother was everything. You fell into a deep depression, sleeping for countless hours, bombarded by suicidal thoughts.

Mama consistently asked how she could help you, being a nurse previously and a mother for over thirty years, she knew that you were not okay. She did absolutely everything in her power to help you heal. She would come into your room every night, spending at least an hour simply holding you. She'd lean her back against the head board, while your head found its way to either her chest or her lap. You would take one of your hands and draw mindlessly with her finger on her thigh or arm, depending on where you ended up, while she played with your hair. Often, you would fall asleep to the sound of her breath.

Soon though, Mama's talks and nightly rituals were not enough to hold your head above water. The first time you tried to kill yourself was Christmas Eve. The rest of your second family found themselves cozied up in the living room but you were distracted, as your mother's death anniversary was a mere week away, December 31st. You couldn't bare the idea.

You only made it about twenty minutes into The Grinch before you excused yourself. You walked down the hall to your makeshift bedroom. After sitting on the bed for a few moments you heard a slight knock on the door. You welcomed the interruption of your thoughts as Mama's face appeared in the frame. She asked if you were okay and you lied, blaming your tiredness on your absence from the living room. She let you be after kissing the top of your head.

Upon her exit, you locked the door, knowing your next plan of action. You took out an old notebook and wrote notes to each of the individuals who meant the most to you, being sure to convey that this is none of their faults. You found a razor blade in your bathroom drawer. You were able to make six deep slits before passing out.

The next thing you knew, you were lying in a hospital bed, Mama holding your hand. You drowsily awoke, watching your second mother looking at the window and she guided her thumb across the back of your hand.

The second time you tried to kill yourself was when your life was just getting back to what one could consider normal. You were starting your senior year of college when you were walking back from class to your car. You were cornered by two men, who you dragged you to a dark alley and raped you, repeatedly. They left you to die in that alley, sometimes wishing you had.

You once again found yourself digging through the drawers of your room, but this time you decided that hanging yourself might be your best bet. You took one of your belts and attached it to the ceiling fan. You positioned your desk chair beneath your feet as you fixated the other end of the belt tightly around your neck, ensuring the old leather would be enough to hold your weight. You stepped off the chair, and although the leather held, the ceiling fan didn't. It came crashing down, knocking you out from a hit on the head.

Believe it or not, that was the last time you tried to kill yourself. Your mama made you go to therapy, driving you back and forth for a year, just to make sure you were actually going. Seeing all that you put her through, trying was the least you could do. Turns out, you actually ended up enjoying the process. Not only were you getting professional help, but you were able to spend hours a day with your favorite person in the world.

You began to genuinely love life again, as you graduated college and even got a dog, but you knew that as long as you were in that little town, you would never escape your demons. So, then came California.

It was rather random but after one week, you were enjoying it. You and your pup, Blue, were taking it day by day. You found a job waitressing and bartending at the Beverly Hills Hotel. It wasn't much on the outside, but it meant everything to you.

You were living in a loft just a couple blocks from the hotel. The space wasn't great, but it was home for you and Blue. Given that your weren't located too far away, you were able to sneak away on your breaks to let Bluey outside to go to the bathroom. God, that dog is your world.

It was getting late, roughly twenty minutes before the bar closed a blonde strolled in. You inwardly groaned when the woman sat in the last stool. You strolled over with a towel in hand.

"Hi, what can I get you?" You asked politely.

A heavenly accent spoke softly, "Tequila, please."

"Coming right up, darling," you said as you retrieved a glass.

You filled the glass with the requested liquor, setting it easily in front of the what you thought was the Australian beauty.

You said quietly, "There you are."

You turned to go back to cleaning when the brush of a hand caught you a bit off guard. You turned around to face the blonde once again.

"Did you need something else?" You asked.

"Well, I was wondering, where your accent is from?"

As she said this, the Australian navigated her sunglasses to the top of her head.

Holy fucking shit. You couldn't believe your eyes.

Cate. Cate Blanchett.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Please leave reviews/questions/comments! I'd love to hear what you think, xoxo.