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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐬𝐢𝐱
─── JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY!
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ORION ALWAYS BELIEVED PEOPLE WERE LIKE BOOKS, AND THE WORLD WAS AN INFINITE LIBRARY. That every living and breathing person had a story to tell. With tons of empty pages to fill with the epic or simplistic tales of their life, like the novels she held dear to her heart. Each was unique with its own ups and downs, triumphs and tribulations. Some chapters would be filled with pure sickening suspense twisting its way into horror, while others were saturated with hopeless romance and delightful joy. Sometimes the tribulations would outweigh the triumphs, leading to decades worth of sloppy writing. The words would blend together to create one endlessly suffocating sentence. You'd try to find your way back to happiness, but by the look of the pages, maybe you never were. Though if you were lucky, like the luckiest person in the world, in time, the days wouldn't feel so long, you'd remember what a period was, and the good times could roll.
Though not everyone was lucky enough to finish their story, not properly at least.
People like Claudia Stilinski, Laura Hale, and Destiny Sinclair were stories left unfinished. They were never given the natural conclusion they deserved, that everyone deserved to write. Instead, they were written out of their own book, forced to abandon what was once theirs. They became ghosts, unintentionally forever haunting those they loved the most. In some cases, there was closure, and in others, there was nothing.
Her mother, Destiny Sinclair, left without a proper ending and without any sense of closure. Her story would eternally be incomplete, weighing over Orion and Vincent until they met her fate. The police officially ruled her death as accidental, caused by a traffic collision. There was no evidence to conclude otherwise. No witnesses, no fibers, no fingerprints, not even a strand of hair that didn't belong to Destiny. It was probably caused by a drunk driver or irresponsible teenager driving on their permit or drunk. That's what the police told Vincent to ease his mind. But it never did because he'd never be able to know what actually happened to the love of his life. Only circumstantial assumptions.
