Genevieve Anderson, the girl that had been left behind and forgotten.
In a town where everybody knows everybody, meaning that no one goes unnoticed. Nobody just grabs a bag and leaves in the middle of the night, without someone seeing something. No...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Chapter Thirty Eight - 4 years ago
"It doesn't take a genius to work out that I have trained myself for just about every situation that could appear. Whether I knew it was coming or not, I was ready. I was ready for just about every situation, and when I mean ready, I did not mean a plan in place to run, I meant a plan in place to stay"
Something was off. I just knew. Whether it was the way the sky darkened and the wind picked up, beginning to howl around the house, I knew. We had been waiting all season for a bad storm, but it was at the point where people had started to assume that it wasn't coming. I had weathered plenty of bad storms over the last few years, but something about this was one was different. The same way there was something different about the house.
Someone had been here, and that someone was not someone that should have ever been here. Not like I could prove it just from staring in at the house from the driveway which was just a continuation of the dirt road. That was when I heard it. My father's storm had begun with a slamming of a cabinet. I was sure it was either the one that held some of the cups, not the glasses cabinet, or the alcohol cabinet.
Nothing smashed, but it hit hard enough to startle me from the outside. I had walked home from school today, as both Jack and Beckett were away in the city for a football tournament for the weekend, meaning I had no refuge. I could go and see Jack's mother, if she was home, or even his father. The other option was seek refuge out at the Sanderson's, but I did not want people asking questions or poking their noses where it wasn't warranted.
Ever since my 13th birthday, people had started asking if I had feelings to either boys, especially their mothers. I was able to shut down Jack's mother, but I could not quiet slide under Mrs. Sanderson's radar. Hence why I was here, about to walk into the storm of my father's turmoil. His anger, his fury, and his disgust, at me being the only one left here.
Over the summer, I had gone through the boys rooms, as I felt like I was ready. I had finally gotten over the idea that they were not coming back, as it had almost been 10 years. They had left when I was 5 years old, and now I was 13 years old. I had found a note, well I had found plenty within the boys school books, but it was Rocky's that had intrigued me the most.
I had been looking for answers, and he was the last person I had gone through to get them, and he had given them, willingly. He had the documents, the receipts, even the handwritten letters. He had it all there, in writing. It could not escape me, the truth of why they left. The truth as to why if they were to ever come back, why I would never ask why they were here.
I knew they would only come back, if they were to, in 5 years time. In 5 years time, on my 18th birthday, I would be out of my father's custody, and potentially into Rocky's, if I decided to live under his roof. That was, if I was ever to find him or he was to find me. Deep down, I knew the boys would be annoyed that I had gone through their stuff, but it had been 8 years now, which was enough to show the time.
