I n d o м ι т a в l e

(7)

AN: A quick message from mwa before you continue, I'd messed up in one of the earlier chapters about Aspens mother having died six months ago when really it's only been four months. I've edited the chapter so now everything is correct but in case anyone had noticed or was confused, It has been corrected!

-awkwardlyxx

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"Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?"

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

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{Chapter: 7}

Unedited ✖

{ A S P E N M O N T G O M E R Y }

I take a long look around myself. The area is familiar and I know exactly where to go to get where I need to be. My boots crunch against the ground, twigs snapping beneath my feet. The earth is damp (unsurprisingly) because it rained last night (unsurprisingly).

I take a familiar turn through the bush, hissing when my skin gets snagged on a thorn.  I push past it, inwardly complaining when I see parts of my clothing also got caught in the knotted piece of bush.

This morning I woke up in the floor and it took me five minutes before I remembered exactly what happened. I'd freaked out and went into one of those modes where you don't think properly, resulting in me accidently running into a wall while I frantically looked over my hand.

Not my brightest moment.

But in my defense, this doesn't happen very often--shocking, I know--so I wasn't very prepared. I don't normally wake up with my injuries magically healed or pass out because of unnatural spasms of pain, knocking me to the ground and stealing away my conscious brain.

My bad.

I can't make since of what happened, and I doubt Edith nor Julius can either. They have no idea it happened since Julius wasn't even there and Edith was already fast asleep, zonked out in a deep slumber with her headphones in so it was impossible for her to hear anything happening above her.

I sigh, kicking a rock further down the path I'm trekking on. I'm actually quite impassive about what happened, although that isn't anything to be surprised about. I've been impassive about everything since four months ago. Everyone in my old town thought I'd moved on too quickly, that I'd forgotten about her which resulted in them giving me glares and trashy insults. But that wasn't even close to the truth; it was all of them that forgot about her. They forgot everything about my mother and instead were too busy trash talking her daughter to recognize the truth.

"Friends aren't forever, have trust in no one, true love is a figment of your minds imagination, pain is your ultimate drive to move forward, and if anyone tries to stand in your way, show them the same courtesy they'd show your grave."

Well, at least my father had one thing right; never trust anyone who'd spit on your grave.

My father had that same speech drilled into my brain ever since I was twelve years old. Over and over again he'd repeat it to me as a warning. He hated me doing anything other than studying or working, he never did like me to have friends unless they were rich debutants or famous hotels owners or whatever, afraid I might put them before my study's or slack off and put a dent in his perfect daughters reputation; or worse, his.