Habits

We Will Be Okay

My head was pounding as I walked down the darkened street, illuminated only by the aging streetlights. My dress was almost torn and my old heels pinched my feet. Why did I even come here?

"Marina!" I heard him call, "Wait up!"

He caught up to me as I walked away from the house's blaring music and extreme bass. The shouts of people way older than me could be heard, probably from some kind of game or obscene event.

He grabbed me by my arm. "Come on, doll," He tempted, "Are you really going to leave before the party even starts? The guys were just joking around, you know that," He looked down at me, expecting me to meet his gaze, but I looked away from him.

I said nothing.

He scoffed. "Don't be like that, Mari, come on," he grabbed my arm, forcing me to look at him, "Look, we can chill here for a bit, loosen up, have some fun," he leaned in closer, smirk evident. "You and I could even-"

I quickly pulled away from him, feeling a bitter taste in my mouth. "God- I- No! Just leave me alone!"

His demeanor changed. "Oh, what, I have to pay you now?"

"Fuck you and your money, Matthew!" I shouted, but I instantly knew it was a mistake.

His gaze darkened, as he steadily approached me. "Listen here, you stupid bitch!" He grabbed me by the waist, hauling me over his shoulder-

~~~

I jolted awake, breathing heavily. I felt my chest rise and fall rapidly, and I sat up in bed, trying to get a better breath. I hadn't thought about that night since... Well, since it happened. I guess it makes sense since I saw him recently...

I mainly remembered sitting on the curb at 3 am, wishing I was back home in the houseboat. I could still smell the smoke from the bonfire, I could hear the bustling of the people inside the house. I could still feel a chill down my spine, even though it was warm outside. I was 15, still living in St. Canard for the summer. I had told Uncle Donald that I was staying at a friend's house overnight.

I shook my head. God, stop thinking about it! Everything's fine, we've moved past this!

I rapidly peeled the covers off of my skin in an attempt to forget about everything, before shivering at the cold air. I need something to drink. Maybe some coffee?

The alarm clock on my bedside table read 2:36 am. So that's a no on the coffee. But hot chocolate or tea works fine.

I grabbed my bathrobe off the hook of my door and slowly opened the door, peeking into the hallway. It was darker than my room, so I grabbed my emergency lantern light and made my way down to the kitchen.

~~~

The wooden floors of the halls and corridors creaked and ached underneath my feet. The mansion didn't feel empty in the darkness, merely dormant. Everyone was asleep, or in the case of one Scrooge McDuck, perhaps silently working. I paused in front of one of Scrooge's studies. The door was ajar, and the oil lamp on the desk dimly glowed, but no one was in the study.

I entered the room, prepared to just turn the oil lamp off (honestly, who uses oil lamps anymore?,) when I noticed an open box on the desk. I knew I should have left it alone, but curiosity got the best of me, and I peered inside.

It wasn't anything interesting, just a small box of mementos. A letter, a ring, a photograph, and a tied clump of golden hair. I picked up the photograph, examining the subjects. There was a young man and a woman, in what I figured was wedding attire. They held each other's hands, and I saw a ring on the finger of the woman. I recognized it as the old ring that was in the box. It had a golden band and the centerpiece was a small emerald. It was hard to tell from the lack of color, but the woman had light-colored hair, which checked out with the golden hair. I stared at the man in the photo. I knew those whiskers anywhere.