Gray's Sin | Twilight

First Chapter: No Way Home

Marmalade jelly, buttercream shea butter, snuffed candles, sandalwood incense, and clean laundry. I counted the wax melts stacked against the edge of the wall shelf. Naming each of my beloved homely scents before they were brushed into one of the labeled cardboard boxes Gen continued to drop around the house.

Regardless of my perception, I had trusted the closest person in my life to let me utilize my given born rights to have a choice. Yet, that excuse had made no avail because of the long-lived rule that embedded itself into the house I spent my years in - with Genevieve.

'As long as you are under this roof, you follow my rules,' and every time this law fabricated by a woman whose only friend was her own daughter attempted to subject me to her parental directive, I simply brushed off the fact that she is my guardian who happens to have the spirit of a child.

But, this was different. We were leaving a home where the ratty, busted-old floors exhausted my knees until I could walk. Where I had hung up my first award of victory in the third grade spelling bee. The house I'd spent my first four months of life with my father until he passed. I couldn't leave Port Townsend just to move a couple cities over, it was absurd and I don't understand what could have made my mother so impulsive.

Just the thought of leaving all of my nonexistent friends and all the dull townspeople just saddened me more. Alright, so I did have plenty of reasons to leave this city, but I couldn't, because I had put too much love and memories into this house to just leave everything behind. Plus I didn't mind the montonious neighbors and individuals I encounter everyday, I quite enjoy the quietude of it all. Even if I had to protest, by all means necessary, I was not going to leave this house without a proper goodbye.

"Gray, we have to go. You are not going to say goodbye to every nail inside this damn house." My mother's voice echoed throughout the rooms resulting in an insubordinate kiss of my teeth to slip past my lips.

"If it gives me more time with my childhood home, then yes, Genevieve." Hollering back, I touched the rim of my glasses pushing back the saggy frame. All our lives, my mother and I called each other by our maiden names. It was quite unusual since it was deemed extremely disrespectful to do, especially in black households which I learned growing up on television and in real life, but it was our thing, ever since I was younger. Honestly, I thought it to be very rude as well which is why I don't use her name outwardly often, but I find my mom insisting. Saying that she feels 'closer' to me if I used her name which makes no sense but hey, to each their own.

Her sighs were deafening with irritation as she trudged up the steps on a direct path towards my bedroom. I sat perched up in the corner of the tight-fitted room on a chipped, yellow, wooden stool. I laid back waiting for her angered expression to enter my line of vision.

"Gray, I really want us to get settled in sooner than later. We need to get going," she paused once she saw the look on my face, furrowing my eyebrows to stop the tears from brimming. I stared down at my torn wool shirt, criss crossed listening to her footsteps approach. She sat beside me, leaning her back against the poorly painted wall we decided to decorate when I was just eight.

"Remember the time when you came running home covered in mud and dirty puddle water." Glancing at me, I had finally met her green eyes like the leaves sewn into the branches of the late spring trees. My mom looked like me in some ways causing me to think I looked more like my father.

We shared the same brown skin shade that fit us both. Looking at her, she was quite petite and tall which opposed my broad curves. While her eyes were green mine were brown, like the trunk of the healthy tree the leaves blossomed upon. Our differences didn't really matter to me though, I just always wondered what my father's appearance was. Momma never really kept pictures or spoke more than a sentence about him which was still upsetting at times, but I was used to it.