The Return (Book One in the Wattpad Featured Return Series)

Chapter One

October 2014

I don't remember where I am or what year it is. Those are the first conscious thoughts that pop into my mind as my eyes fly open. Unfortunately, they're familiar to me.

There's a crack in the ceiling, and I blink up at it, trying to get control over my rapidly beating heart while everything gradually sinks back in. It's 2014. I live in Clifton, Connecticut, and Coco is my mother. Silently, I repeat these basic facts to myself, over and over again, until I eventually calm down.

I let out an exhausted sigh and rub my hands over my face, removing the sleep crusted in my lashes. Last night was another rough one. It isn't surprising; the dreams always get worse when I'm this close to my seventeenth birthday. You think I'd be used to them by now.

Of course, they aren't really dreams; they're memories, and sadly for me, a lot of them aren't very good.

With a groan, I throw off the covers and force myself out of bed. I twist my hair into a messy bun as I walk into the hallway, peeking into Coco's room as I pass by. I'm not surprised to find it empty. Odds are she stayed late last night to have drinks with the girls after her shift.

I shake my head with disappointment. You'd think someone fresh out of rehab wouldn't get a job at a strip club... well, not my mother. I know I shouldn't complain though. As far as mothers go, I've had a lot worse. Coco does the best she can, really, and at least she hasn't figured out I'm not her biological daughter yet. Usually things go from bad to worse after that happens, and I'm unlucky enough to know it could happen at any time.

As I walk into the kitchen, I grab the remote control off the Formica countertop, and turn on the TV in the attached living room. The local news pops up and the time and temperature crawl across the bottom of the screen. It's 6:45 AM.

We're out of coffee, but I find some white bread in one of the cupboards, and stick two pieces in the toaster. I'm about to grab a butter knife when Coco comes stumbling through the front door.

Her signature floral scent fills the tiny apartment, and I hold my breath for a second. It's the same strong perfume she's always worn, and yet it still smells so foreign to me. Her bleached blond hair is teased and over-styled, and the skimpy outfit she's wearing is totally inappropriate for this time of day.

With a phony smile plastered on my face, I greet her, cautiously gauging her mood. You never know what you're going to get with Coco. But she's all smiles this morning, even if she is a little unsteady on her feet.

"How was work?" I ask.

"Exhausting." She plops down on one of the kitchen stools and drops her upper body onto the counter with a dramatic groan.

"You okay?"

She doesn't answer; so, I pick up one of the pieces of toast, and slide the other on the plate towards her.

"Eat," I urge.

With great effort, she pulls herself up. Her gold bangles fall down her frail wrist as she rests her head in her palm. She bunches up her nose and scoots the plate away. "Thanks baby, but I'm not hungry. How about some coffee, or something?"

"We're out." I give her a tight smile. "How about some juice?"

She nods lazily, but when I open one of the old cabinets to get a glass, I catch her flinching at every little sound I make.

I try to move as quietly as possible, and manage to pour her a glass, using what's left of the orange juice.

"Thanks hon." she gives me a tired smile, and I watch her hand tremor as she takes a tiny sip.