𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙶𝙴𝚃 𝙷𝙴𝚁࿐ ྂ ᴊᴇꜰꜰ ʙᴜᴄᴋʟᴇʏ

ꜱɪxᴛᴇᴇɴ

CHRISTMAS EVE, 1985
SYRACUSE, NEW YORK .ೃ࿐

DOES HE REALLY LOVE HER?
Polly wondered to herself, standing in the kitchen, peering out into the living room where her parents fought in the midst of the Christmas Eve party they had thrown.

The assortment of mothers with the same haircut and fathers with the same watch and ironed shirts kept to themselves and their wine and brandy, letting the yelling match finish.

But it wasn't really a match. It was just Mabel Maureen yelling at her husband for who knows what, pointing fingers while her words slurred and ruby-red fingernails clutched the shiny new wine glass.

She had everything she could've wanted, yet she still stood in the middle of the room and chided the kindest man for who knows what.

It seemed that Polly had turned away for a moment when a gasp escaped her mothers lips loud enough to turn the heads of a few party-goers.

The bottle of white wine she held in her free hand, no longer was clutched comfortably in her claw-like grip.

It had fell and broken onto Polly's Christmas gift, of which was given to her as a mutual gift from both parents- although she knew it was her fathers doing.

Her mother yelped something to the theme of, 'my carpet,' paying no care to the gift she had ruined.

The keys of the brand-new keyboard were coated in alcohol, the liquid dripping down the many buttons and controls.

Polly shook her head in disbelief, still not budging from the doorway in the kitchen, letting the moment unfold as she sipped from her glass, full of what looked like cider to the blind eye.

The music still played from the record player, people still mingled while her mother cursed out her father, bitching about the carpet while Floyd Maureen nodded in sympathy to his daughter in the door.

Polly left the kitchen, dumping her glass in the sink and walking up the stairs, her head still shaking while she ignored her anger growing quickly.

She shut her bedroom door and rolled up her window. She climbed onto the roof, balancing along the gable as she looked out on the desolate street.

It was Christmas Eve, and she was alone on her roof mourning the loss of her gift.

She laughed and laughed again at the pitiful thought, only stopping when she almost fell from the gable, quickly crawling back into her room.

To no surprise, her sister sat cross-legged on Polly's bed, one of her Circus magazines in her hands.

Madelyn Maureen had learned quickly that it was better to go to her older sister for comfort rather than her preoccupied father or short-tempered mother. Polly always had time for her, and if she didn't, time would be made.

Polly sat beside her, taking back the magazine playfully with a smile. Few words were exchanged between the two. Mads seemed to be aware of all her sister went through, quietly understanding as well as an eleven-year-old could.

Her wide-eyed sister didn't know that would be one of the last nights Polly would spend in their childhood home. In the last year, Polly had saved her money, scanning newspaper ads for the cheapest apartments in the city, finding job interviews she'd be sure to get.

Her family didn't know she was long since done with high school, having secretly graduated the semester prior- much to her and her counselor's surprise.

They assumed the nights she spent studying were just that- although many of those nights were spent at frat parties, driving around in some guy's car, drifting from bar to bar.

Polly had been hiding small objects of hers throughout the house, possibly as a goodbye to the family, more so that her sister wouldn't feel so alone without her in the empty home.

She knew that Madelyn would, and that was the hardest part of leaving.

But for now, they sat shoulder to shoulder, with no worries- only Polly's loud mind distracting her.

It felt as if slowly a piece of her heart was being torn away, left in the small colonial home. Despite having dread most of every minute spent in the house, leaving still hurt.

༻✦༺

DECEMBER 27th, 1985
NEW YORK CITY.ೃ࿐

The walls of her bedroom in the new apartment were painfully bare, to change this, she tore a page out of her  notebook, sticking it to the wall with some discarded packing tape. Upon it she wrote Polly's Room in big bold lettering.

It was hers, all hers.

She then decided the page upon the wall looked stupid and tore it off, instead vowing to go out and buy some posters the next day.

She looked out her one small window and felt as if she was thrown into a movie set. A young girl in a big city, having left everyone behind.

Polly didn't feel her life came anywhere near the glamour of John Hughes screenplays. She hadn't had any of the 'normal' or cliche moments those movies depicted.

It's cause those are fake, she thought. But this was real- she was real. Sometimes Polly wished so dearly that a voice would scream cut and suddenly the set of her life would roll away, her past loves would merely be acting, the things she'd gone through were simply to humor the audience.

But she wasn't humoring anyone but herself, her movie had no cuts and scene changes, she was living without a script.

Polly fell onto the bare mattress, pulling the plain comforter over her head while she willed herself to sleep.

The willing had worked and she slept a dreamless sleep, although waking up feeling the farthest from refreshed. Boxes of stuff surrounded her bed, loose clothing and objects scattered around the creaky hardwood floor.

She looked out the window once more before deciding to make herself breakfast, observing the hustle of people on their way to work, taxis swerving between traffic, their horns piercing her ears.

༻✦༺

A/N

this chapter isn't important or anything- it's just that I wanted to have more information on pollys origin, just to develop her character. i felt it made sense since it's a new part nd all!!

if u read, thank you! :)