Queen of the Wood ✅

30 - The End Not Expected

The house was quiet as I walked in the following day. Considering everything that happened last night, I almost couldn't believe how early I had gotten up. I should be dead to the world right now, cocooned in Brett's bed with his arms around me.

Trust me, it was hard to pull myself away, but I needed to do this. I needed to sit down and have a long talk with Dad.

I also needed clothes. The dress I wore last night was in Brett's washer, and while I enjoyed wearing his clothes, the sweatpants were about to fall off me.

As cliche as it sounded, I felt like a new woman. There wasn't any other way to explain it. While I knew there was a lot to deal with - Brett's brother had been arrested for murder and attempted rape, which was sure to be a headline-making scandal - for the first time in my life, I felt like I was in control. That I decided who I was and what I did.

And the first thing I wanted to do was sit down with Dad and have a long overdue honest talk with him. I was still upset that he had kept things from me, but now that I knew for sure that he hadn't hurt Maeve, I was ready to start fresh.

Lord, did we ever need a fresh start.

Something akin to giddiness came over me as I climbed the stairs to my room. Even the house looked different. Brighter. As though all the shadows, guilt, and doubt that had been clouding my vision were finally wiped away.

At the top, I stopped, looking towards the closed door to my grandmother's room. I knew I should change and find Dad, but my body turned, and my feet drew me to the door. I pushed it open, stopping to close my eyes and breathe in her scent. I still missed her. And I wished Grams was here. I could almost see her grinning down at me from Heaven.

I had done it.

I opened my eyes, looking over at her closet. Striding over, I pulled the door open and looked at all her clothes, shoes, and accessories, neatly stored away. Grams had always had a refined yet muted style.

"Just cause we have money doesn't mean we need to rub it in people's faces..."

I slowly walked in, running my fingers across the rich fabric, recognizing every dress, every blouse, and skirt. All her suits. The shelves at the top were lined with neatly organized boxes - probably family photos. I would need to go through those as well. I then stopped when I saw a large, opened brown box. It looked out of place among my grandmother's elegant things. And the way it was haphazardly shoved up in the corner made me think that it wasn't supposed to be there. Frowning, I reached up and pulled it down, wondering what could be inside as I walked back into her room and placed it on the bed. I carefully pulled it open, my eyes widening as I saw what was stored inside.

It was my journals.

Tears filled my eyes. I thought Mom had burned them all, but Grams kept them for me.

I couldn't be sure until I looked inside, but I was fairly certain it was every single one I had written since I learned how to write. Tears filled my eyes as I reached in and picked one off the top, opening it.

August 28, 1997

I hate Stephanie. I hate her so much. Today at school, she told everyone I had herpes. It didn't matter that they were just cold sores. Everyone thinks I got them from sex. Maeve told her off. I wish she would have hit her. I wish I had hit her...

I put the book down, a flush coming across my cheeks as I remembered that day. It was the first day of eighth grade, and the entire school thought I had an STI for the whole year after that. The few birthday parties I had been invited to in the years before didn't happen for me, with plenty of mothers thinking I was a bad influence on their precious, chaste daughters.