𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍 彡 [e. munson] [✔]

─ 𝐭𝐰𝐨.

*ೃ༄𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐃𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐘'𝐒 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂

1986

Dipping her utensil into the cup of plain Greek yogurt to scrape out the final spoonful, Magdalena's eyebrows were forming together in concentration as she sat on the kitchen counter with her legs situated in the position of a pretzel. The old time-y cuckoo clock situated on the far side of the cramped kitchen proceeded with its sharp tick tick tick sound which only boosted the brunette's anxieties about school starting soon. Lulu would be coming by any second to pick her up and they'd be on their way to the hellhole they both called school. Then both teenagers would have to sit through their obnoxious classes with their obnoxious classmates and teachers.

Then Lulu would be speeding out of the parking lot at the end of the day all alone while Magdalena would have to stay for an extra hour and a half of volleyball practice. It was the same fucking routine since she came back to school. And of course, how could Magdalena forget about that godawful pep rally her school had been hyping up for two weeks now? She made a promise to not go. She didn't care. The only sport even mildly interesting to her was the one she played. With this in mind, the brunette had already made sure to slip an unopened pack of Marlboros into her backpack which she'd smoke inside of the girl's bathroom until the wretched event was over and done with.

It sounded like a pretty solid plan and Magdalena was sticking to it. No matter what. The girl's jaw suddenly clenched when she heard the front door open with an ominously slow creaking noise. Her light-hued eyes shifted around while she remained silent, attempting to figure out if there was an intruder in the house or if it was only her sleep-deprived mind playing tricks on her. Even in her internalized state of panic, Magdalena brought the last spoonful of yogurt up to her mouth and licked it off soon thereafter whilst continuing to listen for any other sounds. Just then the door closed with a not-so-silent bang and she took a breath, figuring that a burglar wouldn't be so polite as to shut a door.

The freshly turned nineteen-year-old had front-row seats in witnessing her dad skipping excitedly into the kitchen and gracing her with a brighter-than-average smile. Marion May was dressed in a Fleetwood Mac shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans which were surprisingly free of oil paint splotches. Magdalena watched her dad open up their hideous red refrigerator and pull out a bottle of beer. The brunette didn't need any more proof that her dad was a teenage boy stuck in a forty-year-old adult's body.

"Where've you been, little lamb? You know how I feel about you not telling me where you're going. I was worried about you. I was about to shout your name from the rooftops. Care to tell me where you were?"