SING ME HOME ✰ l. patterson [jatp]

𝐨. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝

𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟗

PERHAPS THE OVERWHELMING SMELL of lavender should have been her first clue that something was horribly wrong...or at least a warning that she should have her guard up. For the only time that the smell would travel its way through the air vents of her cozy two-story cape-cod style home, was when her Mom was on a deep cleaning spree.

And a deep cleaning spree only happened whenever her Mom was stressed out.

Maybe that's why she never really bothered to think twice about it. Her Mom was stressed quite often, something that came with her job of being a Social Worker. Not to mention how she often volunteers her services at a center downtown– Penelope often wondered how she was able to do it all. Late-night calls in the middle of the night, court cases, trips to the hospital, hearing the heartbreaking stories...she could never understand why her Mom would add all of that onto her plate.

But then again, cleaning always did seem to help her clear her mind. Why not take it all on if you have a way to get rid of the stress when it does pile up?

Her Mom may not have minded the smell of lavender, maybe even finding comfort in it. But not Penelope. From the moment she got the first whiff of the floral scent, she got up from the bay window in her bedroom and walked downstairs. By the time she reached the living room, the scent was overpowering her sense of smell. She could only catch a glimpse of her Mom mopping the kitchen floor before she left through the double sliding doors of the living room and walked out into the backyard.

Normally dressed up in slacks, a nice blouse, and the occasional blazer whenever she knew she had to work and would be on-call. On the days she didn't have much to do, but knew she'd be called in at any moment, she would still be dressed nice, but only in a good pair of jeans and maybe a sweater. Which is what she wore when she left the house this morning to leave for the center downtown– only now, she was back hours earlier than normal and she had her hair tied up in a bun, her sleeves rolled up above her elbows, jeans cuffed and was cleaning the house like a madwoman.

Still, Penelope didn't think much of it. She brushed it off as her Mom being in one of her moods again. Maybe she received a call dealing with one of the clients she was having a hard time with or maybe something at the shelter frustrated her to the point where she had to come home early to decompress. It wouldn't have been the first time she had done it, and it definitely wouldn't be the last.

After all, the last few months have been rough for the Cunningham household.

A night that started out so normal and carefree, one that Penelope had quickly rounded up as one of the best nights of her life. Until a phone call sent it all spiraling down. It wasn't a night Penelope liked to visit often, especially since the pain of it was so fresh. But late at night, when sleep struggled to overtake her, she often found herself staring at the ceiling and trying to figure out just where everything went wrong.