"𝕋𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖" - Michael A. x OC!

Prolouge

21/8, Wednesday, 7:00 PM.

The sun dips below the horizon, the trees trun orange and red- prepared to strip themselves of their leaves.

Summer ends soon, thar much is clear, but who's ready to go back to school? Wren, thats for sure. He sits silently in his room. Him and his his friends had been at the fair all day, and now he was just left by himself with onky his thoughts for company.

How he hated it.

It was painful, hed always begin spiraling into the 'what ifs'.

And tonight was one of those nights where he thought about things a bit too much- hell, he went farther into his feelings than ever. His thoughts swirled.

The emotions he felt confused him, he felt sad, angry- but also alone. He missed something. He stands up off his bed, by now everyone's tucked into bed. And creeps down the hall, he stop infront of one particular door. One they never went into. His hand grips the doorknob, and he twists it. Entering the dark room. The room is filled with boxes on top of boxes- said boxes coated in dust.

He steps towards a box towards the back, brushing off the dust to reveal a word in black sharpie. 'PICTURES', it reads. He opens the box, framed photos stacked neatly on top of one another of the same girl. She looks so achingly familiar, he knows her name and all her favorite foods- or atleast he thinks he does. But it's been years. Years since she was taken away, years since she stopped visiting.

She hardly ever visited anyways. Her family always lived so far from his. They'd go years without seeing eachother. This was her family too, so why did she never visit? What drive her to say those things? To pretend they didn't exist?.

He closes the box, and turns around. The only light in this room comes from the window. His eyes have adjusted to this darkness.

He can now see the door on the furthest wall. He walks to it and opens it once more. He reaches to the side and flicks on the light.

Stairs. Dark wood stairs that lead upwards. Stairs that he hesitantly walks up.

There's a small landing at the top of the stairs, the walls are white in this tiny space, and there's yet another door before him.

Three doors to get to this room, three. He sighs in annoyance and opes this door, and flicks on a light.

A living room. Its walls are pink with light wood bordering, the floors the same light wood. Theirs a loveseat, colored pink and white. Then, a white fireplace with the girls photo on it, but she's much younger in this one. Two chairs with the same coloring as the loveseat, white carpet. He turns his head to the doorway on the other side of the room. There isn't a door there, just pink heart beads, and curtains to America up for the lack of said door.

Before Wren even thinks to step closer, his name is called from down the stairs.

"Wren, what did dad say about coming in here?" The familiar voice of his sister carries through, and she climbs up the stairs.

Wren turns around, she takes the final step before staring at him.

"We aren't allowed in here, the pain it causes is simply too much." She answers her own question, arms crossed.

"I know, I know, okay?! God forbid i have emotions and want to visit the room that was once-"

"Just be quiet and go back to bed." Rowan interuppts, jesturing down the stairs.

Wren let's out a reluctant sigh, and begins to make his way down the stairs.

===============

Fawn stares out the window, the darkened sky dotted with stars. Surrounding their house is the forest. Mama always liked her privacy.

A shame she hardly comes around, along with that lousy husband of hers. Fawn remarks to herself.

Her 'parents' were never home, Fawn was always looking over her little siblings- taking them to school and back, feeding them dinner, making money to keep the bills paid- and even avoiding cps.

She'd put Veena and Oakley to bed, they lay asleep in her bed as they never liked sleeping in there own.

And she couldn't blame them.

Penelope and Cole would always break into the children's rooms- doped up or drunk- maybe even both. Cuss and scream, sometimes get physical in more ways than one.

It was a hell hole, but from the outside it was a regular, loving household.

Fawn pushes herself off of the windowsill, glancing over at the two figures in her bed. Her heart heavy.

She wished desperately to fix this place, make it into the dream home it was supposed to be- but what can she do other than try her best to protect them? Which often would leave her battered and bruised from her mothers cruel and unforgiving fist. Her mother was a spiteful woman, and would hurt others to get her way.

Her mother probably didn't treat her better than she treats us.

Fawn let's out a sigh, climbing into her bed. Her parents were somewhere in Hawaii on vacation- they'd be back soon, and she dreaded their arrival.