Homebound Hearts

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12th August 2023

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12th August 2023

home - Edith Whiskers

It's much colder here in London than it was in Los Angeles. Funny Sailor missed it when she moved but now she's back, she finds herself longing for the burning sun on her skin. Late July yet she is still greeted by a chilly breeze as she stands on her balcony. Early morning, the sun is just creepy above the horizon.

Running away from the night like Sailor tries to run from her pain. Running away from her past seemed easy until the realisation came she'd forever be looking over her shoulder. The nights become longer until she just doesn't sleep at all although that's better than the alternative, the endless nightmares once you do sleep.

Sailor lived in this house up to the age of fifteen until her whole world changed. She lost her: best friend, her mother, her person. Her father was destroyed. The love of his life was gone. He could no longer live where they grew up, where all the memories they had created. But here she is nine years later.

"Lewis!" She hears a shriek from downstairs.

That is Miss Angelica Fawn. Now Known as Primrose, her "butter couldn't melt" stepmother.  Angelica has sleek, straight brunette hair that falls just below her shoulders. She is quite skinny, thanks to her daily gym routine. Blessed with sharp cheekbones and full lips, giving her a model-like appearance. Her skin is flawless and always has a natural glow to it.

Her most striking feature though is her piercing icy blue eyes, which seem to always hold a cold, calculating glint. She always dresses in designer clothing and wears expensive jewellery, showcasing her love for luxury and Sailor's dad's money.

Daddy dearest decided to remarry when Sailor was nineteen. Everyone knows she's just with him for his money. She's sure even poor Lewis is aware but he was with her mum from the age of sixteen. She's not sure he can cope with being alone. Even if that means being with a snotty thirty-five-year-old, who's just here for the money.

 Even if that means being with a snotty thirty-five-year-old, who's just here for the money

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At the sight of her kitchen, the memory of her mother's perfume floods her memory. Her half-drunk coffee is on the counter with a mark from her signature, scarlet lipstick as her music plays. She can never cook without it. Her hips swing, her curls bouncing and a smile always spread across her face.

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