Dusk & Dawn

Chapter 13

7 Years Earlier

My mother and I pulled up to a grand house with a vibrant red front door and parked the car. It stood in stark contrast to the modesty of our own home. Stepping out of the car, we retrieved the hamper we had assembled for the family we were visiting.

At the front door, we were greeted by a weary-looking woman with red puffy eyes and dark circles. It was evident that she hadn't had much rest, and her unkempt hair was tied up in a greasy knot. My mother had informed me while we packed the hamper that she was recently widowed and needed support until her late husband's life insurance was paid out. Apparently, she attended our church, but I had never paid much attention to the congregation. Keeping my head down and focused on my bible was my way of appeasing my father.

"Raegan, could you take Quinn to your room while Mrs. Eden and I talk in the kitchen, please? We won't be long," the sombre woman requested, addressing someone behind me.
"Sure, Mum," I turned around to find a hand reaching out to clasp mine, pulling me down the hall. Raegean was taller than me, and her dirty blonde hair mirrored her mother's. She guided me into a spacious bedroom adorned with posters of boy bands, settling us on the floor in front of a bay window basking in the warm sunlight.

It was a rare experience for me to enter someone else's room, even my parents'. In comparison, my room felt like a prison cell. Raegan's room was a vibrant sanctuary, with a cheetah print comforter, shelves lined with colourful books, and a desk housing an expensive-looking computer that played gentle acoustic music in the background.

"Your room is beautiful," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. I was grateful that I didn't often enter other people's rooms, as constantly comparing them to mine would only make me desire things I could never have.
"Thanks... My mom tries to win my affection with things, and this room is the result. It's full of apologies for past fights," she frowned, retrieving a notebook and pen from the plush cushions by the window.
"Your mom seems nice, though. Sad, but nice," I observed as she scribbled in her notebook."Yeah, she seems nice, but when we're alone, she becomes a different person," Raegan confessed, pressing the pen so hard against the paper that it tore through to the next few pages. I chose to remain silent, even though I sympathized with her situation. Revealing the true nature of our home life would put my parents' reputation at risk, and it could all be traced back to me.

Raegan looked up at me, offering a sideways smile.
"I know that look. Don't worry. I won't tell," she squeezed my hand quickly, closing her notebook. In that moment, I felt grateful to trust a total stranger, but I also felt sorry for her.

"So, how long has your dad..." I struggled to find the right words, not wanting to hurt her or stir up any painful emotions.
"Two weeks. Initially, my mom wasn't that sad because she knew she'd receive a big, fat cheque when he died. But when she learned it would take months for the life insurance and will to be processed, she started whining like a four-year-old," she shook her head, leaning against the wall with her legs crossed.
"The worst part is that the day before the accident, he drove past a kid sitting outside a homeless shelter and decided to bring him home since they didn't have any room. He's been staying with us ever since. He doesn't speak much, and my mom absolutely hates him but can't kick him out because she says she'd feel inhuman. Rightly so... the bitch," I sniggered, trying not to find humour in the situation, but I had never heard anyone call their mother a bitch before. Raegan nudged her shoulder against mine, and we laughed together. Her refreshing honesty was something I appreciated.

"Have you talked to him? Where is he?" I furrowed my brow, trying to recall if I had seen him when I first entered the house.
"He's been sleeping on the living room floor since my mother claimed all the spare rooms for her expensive stuff. A jewellery room, a shoe room... She's ridiculous. Anyway, all I know about him is that he's homeless and his name is Dean. He mostly keeps to himself. Don't get me wrong, he's cute and all, but he's way too young for me to share a bed with, if you know what I'm saying... Plus, I have a boyfriend, so there's that," she shrugged. My heart ached for Dean. He had no family, and the one he was with now couldn't provide what he needed. I felt an overwhelming urge to do something about it. I may not have had much, but I was determined to help him in any way I could.