The Wishing Well.
Y/N promised herself she'd never come back here again, not after what had happened almost over two years ago, when her family kicked her out of their lives after she moved out to live with her boyfriend. That wouldn't have been a problem, except for the fact that her family was huge, and being exiled from the family meant that if you were seen, you were asking for a drive by. She swore she wouldn't go back, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She was trying hard to get a grip on reality, and it was at this point Y/N wished they'd paid Jordon's guy a visit instead. She couldn't believe she was the one who suggested coming here. She didn't have time to turn back now. Besides, they could get better weapons here if they weren't shot on sight.
"I can go in if you want--" Jordon started, only to be cut off. Jordon, being one of Y/N's longest standing friends, knew about the exile. Hell, he was there when it happened. He knew the risk she was taking; and in all honesty, he wasn't sure why she was taking it. But she was determined, and he knew it.
"No, I need to do this." Y/N stated firmly, though it sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than anything else. "This is family business." She muttered under her breath, though Jordon heard it.
Come on, Y/N. Fight the inner turmoil.
"I'll be here if you need me." He relented with a slight shake of the head, knowing there was nothing he could say to change her mind.
"Hopefully I won't." She muttered again, forcing herself out of the car. Her feet felt glued to the ground, and just standing by Jordon's car until she faded to nothingness seemed awfully appealing. Of course, that was until she reminded herself what she was there for; or who, more rather. She shook her head, marching up to the door.
Y/N knocked a rhythym onto the cold metal of the door she had practiced ever since she was able to understand what the rhythym was; a password.
She fondly remembered walking here after school. Every day she'd walk to the Wishing Well after dismissal, their usual inhabitants greeting her as she went to the bar, where she'd perch herself up in a stool and her grandma would slide her a coke to drink with a coy smile, knowing well that her parents didn't want her drinking soda. Then, nana would ask Y/N about her day, and they'd talk as she worked the bar.
Every afternoon, she'd go through her routine: school, Wishing Well, sodas, and visits with nana. It used to be her favorite memory from growing up, but now it only hurt to think about it. Because every time she thought about the good times, the bad times followed. No amount of after school cokes could erase all of the black tie parties she was forced to attend with sons of different families, hoping to let the bad blood mingle, all of the unwanted hands on her body from the sons that got too close for comfort. No amount of sunny afternoons could erase the fact that she was nothing but a pawn in the mafia's game of chess, being groomed to become the queen. She wondered if her family ever knew what happened to her at all of those parties. "Obviously not," she guessed, refusing to believe her family --her nana, especially-- would let her be violated like that, arrangements between families be damned.
You're not here to reminisce. She inwardly scoffed at herself, throwing her train of thought off of the tracks. And you're certainly not here for a personal pity party, either. She raked a hand down her face, trying to stop the oncoming assault of tears, just in time.
Someone opened a sliding panel in the metal door, a pair of eyes glaring down at her. "Let me guess, finally leave that boy of yours?" Eyes widened with a slight gasp. Y/N frowned at the sound. She knew that voice. "No no no, he dumped you for some blonde and now you wanna come home to the family and exact your revenge!" He guessed. "Let me know when I'm getting warm."
