Chapter one: 5:34 AM 07/10/2004 {Summer of 2004}
Sophia sat on her bed, the only light coming from the rising morning sun, the sky outside dyed a particularly beautiful pale blue.
It was a little chilly, but it'd warm up soon. Besides that, there wasn't much of note in her room, everything discarded on her desk, or closet, despite how expensive they seemed to be. The distant sounds of sirens and gunshots had become white noise, it was so constant.
It was to that She had woken up to, before she sat up in bed, wondering what exactly went wrong yesterday.
It seemed like it was always her fault; at least that's what her mom always said, though only ever when she was drunk. Last night had been almost routine, with her getting pissed off at how her mom seemed to be slobbering over the fucker who took her father's place.
She'd said as much, which had led to said fucker, Constine, sending her up to her room, with mom just watching on from drunk, half-closed eyes, that always seemed to scream "ungrateful brat" when they slid past her.
Sophia couldn't help but scoff in the dim room, wondering where in the hell her mom got off looking at her that way.
Just because she gave her an allowance, or bought her whatever thing was popular for "girls her age" didn't make her a good Mom.
What she wanted was for that fucker to leave, and for her mom to respect her Dad's memory, by at least not getting fucking engaged to some random guy just a year after he died.
Maybe then she'd stop acting out.
Maybe then they could actually be a family.
But that'd never happen, she knew.
Her locked door was proof of that.
A year ago, after a particularly awful fight, Sophia had gotten worked up, and threw a chair at her mom. Constine, who had been "just another boyfriend" of her mothers' up until then, decided to be a white knight, but that's when things had gone too far, at least for her.
He'd shouted something about having enough of watching her treat her "hardworking mother" this way, and then had grabbed her, and dragged her to their basement, with her kicking and screaming all the while, and had nearly thrown her in, locking her inside.
It was one of the only doors in the house, at least then, that had a lock on the outside of the door.
Just the memory alone worked her up, her fists bunched up tight, itching to hit something.
After her mom swooned after having had witnessed some fuck who'd decided to step in personal family matters, she'd given him more and more control over "dealing with" Sophia.
He'd went out and bought an outside facing lock for her room, and any time, from then on, instead of saying anything to an enraged Sophia, she'd just let Constine toss her into her room, calling her "out of control", and would use it as an excuse not to listen when all Sophia wanted were answers, to hear why her Mom would do the things she had. At the very least, she wanted to hear that it was okay to feel like… like this.
But no. All she got was fucking dismissed, to her dark room, to 'calm down'.
It was so infuriatingly hypocritical when she was expected to sit through her mom's lectures when the idiot had gotten worked up. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair.
And so, it led to Sophia and her mom talking less and less, with some of the only conversations they had all week being the ones they had over dinner, but just the sound of her mom's fake sweet-voice asking her how school was pissed her off even more, because it felt like she was trying to pretend that everything was normal, like she didn't regularly send her to her room to be locked up, just to avoid anything she had to say. Like she wasn't scared of the questions that Sophia needed to know the answers for.
She'd often storm off, going to her room, and locking the room, or just leaving the house altogether, grabbing her bike and shooting to school as fast as she could.
It was one of the only things Mom would help out with personally, pitching in some money for her bike-
Anything to get rid of her, right?
But last night, things had changed.
Usually, her mom tried to talk to her about school, asking her if there were any boys she had her eye on, and as usual, Sophia had been in a bad mood, but instead of saying anything and playing along, she'd just had enough of her mom's face, and got up without a sound, and walked to her room.
Stepping on the last step on the stair case; she'd heard something. Muffled, and soft, but somehow deafening. Her mom was crying.
It had made her realize something.
Life wasn't fair.
Her mom didn't care about what Sophia felt, but expected her to be close to her. Part of her wondered if her mom expected her to come running down, and make her feel better, even as the unfairness of it all weighed on her shoulders.
Where had her mom been when she felt like her world was upside down? Where was she when Sophia looked at the stranger who'd taken her Mom's place, who looked on with empty eyes every night, and asked plastic questions?
Why was she expected to….to care anymore?
She felt... like the time for that passed a long time ago.
The seconds felt like hours, as she'd stood there, part of her fighting to find a reason to go downstairs.
Yet, the seconds passed and when her mom cried, she finally put a finger on the emotion she had started feeling towards her mom.
Or actually, the lack of them.
She didn't care. She didn't care as much as she felt she should.
It was like hearing some stranger cry.
So, she went to her room, and sat there in bed, trying to understand what that meant. Was something wrong with her?
What if it'd been Dad crying?
The thought stung immediately- as she tried to blink away the hazy image of her Dad, on his bed, with his head in his hands, medical papers scattered on the bed.
Ignoring the stinging in her eyes, she tried to imagine her Mom again.
But thought didn't feel the same.
In fact, it felt normal, it made sense to her, that her mom would cry.
It was simple as 1 plus 1 being 2.
Her Mom wasn't strong, so it was natural for her to cry instead of do something about it, so she would've more confused if her mom hadn't cried, unlike her dad.
Her dad had always told her, when she was little, that crying never fixed anything. Doing something about what made you sad, saying something, was at least step one of fixing something.
It was why she always shouted at her mom her honest thoughts when she was pissed. Maybe, maybe, if her mom understood where she was coming from, she could help her fix the hole in her heart that had died alongside her dad.
So no, she didn't feel the slightest thing for her mother, other than a slight sense of superiority. At least she didn't just sit there and cry, or pretend everything was 'normal'.
She took a look at her clock.
6:50 A/M 07/10/2004 {Summer of 2004}
She sighed, and got up, grabbing some clothes from her drawer, before heading downstairs to the bathroom. She was glad Constine didn't live here- yet.
She was sure her mom would bring it up soon, now that they were engaged.
She took a quick shower, before looking at herself in the mirror. Her hair was done in pretty, long braids that went a little past her shoulders, and her face was smooth. She had her dad's sharp chin and cheekbones, and her mom's lighter brown skin.
Her eyes were lighter than either of theirs' though, from what she could remember of her dad's face, her being a light brown that she was slightly proud seemed to turn amber in the sunlight.
She dried her hair off, before brushing her teeth, and finishing up with getting ready by 7:30 A.M.
Soon after, she was set on her way to school