DELETED398633

Edenridge

December 4th, 2016
Pinehurst Academy’s Basketball Court
Celtics VS Monarchs Championship Game

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The noise was deafening.

Francis had sunk the last three pointer with the fadeaway at the buzzer. He dropped to his knees and raised his fists triumphantly in the air as everybody got to their feet and cheered and yelled at the top of their lungs. Edenridge beats Pinehurst. Celtics beat Monarchs. No luck but what we make.

Allison ran screaming into the court, throwing her Pom-poms to Mei as she leapt into her boyfriend's arms and kissed him deeply. “You did it, baby! You did it! I’m so proud of you!” She looked out amongst the sea of people to her parents and her little sister. It was almost sobering. The thought of what her mother had been doing, the criminality that she had hidden, made her sick. At least with ReyRey, he was honest about being a nasty piece of work. She waved to Alexandria, her grinning little bean, as Francis waved to his own brother. They were the king and the queen of the school.

Russell and Rhett ran off towards their families to engage in love in its purest form, that between parent and child. On the other end, Coach looked at his son. David was smiling, but there was a hint of sadness in his face. It was obvious he wished he could’ve been on the court with them, but that wasn’t going to stop him from celebrating with the rest of his teammates. “Get out there, kiddo.” John removed his hat and sat down on the bench to watch his son run out across the hardwood.

David ran up to Danny and gave him a hearty hug. “You fucking did it, boyo. I’m leaving this team in capable hands.”

Clay stood alone on the court as everyone celebrated with the ones they loved. He could feel all the people around him, fans hollering in joy, shouting nothing but kind words. Yet he couldn’t feel them. He made his way over to the bench and sat down by himself. He glanced up at the scoreboard and then back down to the congregation that had formed at half court. Strange little thing about this game of theirs; it made everyone love them.

“How do you feel, Casanova?” The familiar, sultry voice that Clay loved so much appeared behind him before she joined the bench beside him, watching her family run on the court to interrupt Danny’s lovefest with David. She smirked as she watched her brother, who was likely stroking David’s ego like the fanboy he was. She quietly watched him go from his teammate to his family, getting pulled into a tight embrace by their mother.

On the sidelines, near them, Taz had thrown his jacket on Vivia and begrudgingly complimented her performance. He didn’t want to ruin the moment so he simply let all her decisions of the night go, at least for now. Cat’s children followed Auntie Mira to bother Pierce Mercer, someone Mira looked up to, who was talking about the game with Kylee. The mayor’s daughter who always kept her socials updated. Now it was time for her to share the news of the game. Roddy had left Kylee’s side to find his way to his brother to say congrats and retreat just as quickly. And here Cat was, letting everyone soak in the energy, breathe, and enjoy the good feeling, sitting beside the charming Clay Costigan. “I’d say you did amazing.” She turned to the boy next door gleaming, her old pom poms resting on her lap.

Casanova. The voice was distinct and like music to his ears and the name; only one person uses that name; his Kitty. “It was mostly Fran and Danny with Russ going beast mode on D. Still, I got my licks in.” Clay turned to the gorgeous woman that was sitting next to him and smiled. “But to answer your question I feel a hell of a lot better now you’re sitting next to me.” He wondered, albeit briefly, if at the last second his family would walk through that door having been stuck just on the other side listening in to what could be his crowning moment. Clayton’s dark eyes fell upon the Pom-poms in Cat’s lap and he cocked an eyebrow. “Well well, is there a Clover’s outfit underneath those clothes, Kitty. That’s a bit kinky but I’m here for it.”

“I doubt I still fit it,” Cat laughed, knowing damn well she still had her uniform after all these years in a box in the basement. “Don’t even think about it, Clay,” She teased, noticing him checking her out, before gently nudging herself on his sweaty arm, “Give yourself more credit, I doubt anyone could compliment everyone else as well as you do. They all have their niches, sure, but you, you navigate wherever it’s necessary.” If anything, Clay moved around the court like he was sailing a ship and while he didn’t think he had much control, a lot of it relied on him making sure every one of his teammates had their openings and could run through the play without crashing into someone.

“I appreciate that Cat, thank you.” Clay reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle of water to take a sip from. It was hard work winning high school basketball games. Yet it was also hard work sitting next to Cat when every iota of his being was screaming at him, every fibre of him on fire and telling him that this was the love of his life. Still he was a kid and it was just hormones right? “There gonna’ be a big party at the Belmonte residence tonight? To celebrate?” He had lived next door to the Belmonte family all his life and their parties were legendary. For one night only, Scott Street turned to the Southside. “If my Mom turns up, tell her we won won’t you?”

“I’ll stop by when I drop my kids off,” Cat’s gaze searched the crowd to see Elisa make her way to the family to give her brother her regards. “Silly Clay, you should know better. Danny’s not going to be home for a few. There’s bound to be a party, especially after a big win like tonight? There’s always a party.” Cat knew the Clovers well enough and also the dynamic they shared with the Celtics. Whether there was one planned or not, there would be one, she just knew it. “Ma is going to watch the kids for me, I’m going out tonight. Treating myself to sister time with El and Nina.” She gestured toward Elisa who gave her a look that showed she could really use a drink. Their father had joined the fray and instead of giving his son a hug, he looked like he was giving him pointers on how to do better for the next season. “What’s your plans tonight? Going to party hard, hm? Get with a pretty girl?” Her attention was brought back at him, as she grabbed onto her pom poms and playfully shaked it. Damn she missed the days when she was a Heartbreaker. Those times were simple. Sweet. She missed that feeling.

“Is that an invitation?” God he wished it was. If Cat Belmonte turned to him and said that she wanted him, that would literally be his life complete. She was cute shaking her pom poms and it made Clay wish he had seen her in that Clover outfit. He let out a small laugh. She was making him feel better, less lonely, for a little while at least. “I do have a date, yes. That’s her over there,” He pointed to a girl in the Pinehurst bleachers. “Way out of my league but obviously looking to slum it for a little bit so I’ll probably miss whatever party these reprobates end up at since they are no place for a nice evening.”

“First of all, ew. You’re sleeping with the enemy?” Cat glanced at the girl, surveying her up and down. She looked familiar. She didn’t know why but she did. The shirt she was wearing reminded her of her ex and she hated it. The girl got up from her seat to go to this photographer with fluffy hair. She narrowed her eyes trying to focus in on him… they looked scarily familiar. He looked like the spitting image of… Shaking her head, she put her focus back on the girl. Sure, the Pinehurst girl was cute and all but Clay could do so much better. Cat was certain of that. “Secondly, maybe when you’re older—” Elisa found her way out of the chaos that was the court and their family and found her way to Cat and Clay.

“Hey you two! Congrats, Costigan. You were great! You all were.” Elisa was quick to swoop her sister off the bench, grabbing her hands that held the pom poms, excited to not worry about grading papers for one night. Tonight they were going to have fun. “Mind if I steal her? We gotta’ save Nina from Palermo.”

“Not sleeping with her yet,” Clay clicked his fingers and laughed just before they were joined by the hot goth math teacher. “By all means, go be with the family. Thanks for the chat, Cat.” He got up to his feet and waved at the two women before heading off into the crowd.

“I can’t believe he wants to sleep with a rando Pinehurst chick,” Cat complained, grabbing onto Elisa’s arms as they made their way back to their family, getting ready to say goodbye. They had drinking to do. That was far more important than talking on a basketball court in Pinehurst all night.

“Hey, you can’t talk. You slept with number 7 way back when,” Elisa chuckled as she heard Cat grumble in response. There was a rule between the three eldest Belmonte women. They would never speak his name but they would call him by his number. That’s how bad the break up went and from there Cat’s life spiraled.

From a distance, Kylee was once again left alone. Where did Pierce go? Roddy? Where was Mei? Why was she left alone?! Frantically, she scurried through the side of the court, not realizing she was on the Pinehurst side. Turning her head to see Francis talking to Russ, she found the way he looked at his teammate so… so… SLAM! Kylee found herself crashing right into… right into… a Pinehurst photographer?! Oh my god. Roddy was going to tease her later. “S-sorry.” She looked between the older boy and the girl like a deer in headlights.

That hurt!

The boy almost dropped his camera, his pride and joy. Thank God it was hanging from his neck. He instinctively put his hands onto the girl’s arms after she crashed into him to steady her before quickly pulling away and putting them behind his back. “No, no it’s fine. We were too engrossed in conversation…are you ok?” This girl was very pretty and her clothes screamed money. If he didn’t know different he could’ve thought her a Monarch like him and his sister.

The other girl beside the photographer who was checked out by Clay and Cat only moments ago couldn’t help but give the widest grin at the newcomer. She loved when people got embarrassed. It was so, so, so adorable. “You hit my brother hard! You must be dizzy.”

“No…no, I'm good. Thank you.” On top of Kylee’s head pounding, the scent of this boy’s cologne was distracting. Out of her goddamn mind, she blurted out a compliment, “You smell nice,” before realizing she didn’t even know him. He looked handsome and all, and his hair she could see herself playing with, but he was Pinehurst! The enemy!

Okay, this is when she needed to head out. From the side of her peripheral vision, she caught sight of her best friend hiding by the bleachers. Thank fucking Christ. “Um, excuse me. Sorry again.” And with that, the mayor’s daughter ran off blushing hard and calling out Roddy’s name.

As she ran off, the Pinehurst girl snickered and teased her brother, “You smell nice.”

“Shut up, Kaylee,” He put his hands behind his head as he watched the Edenridge girl run off into the wave of faces. “Besides you’ve been gawking at that Edenridger all night, the one with the hair. You really think that he’s worth your time? They’re scum here, sis.”

“Scum doesn’t mean he isn’t fun. He was hot on the court. You saw it yourself! And he just has the goofiest of smiles. I’d love to toy with him. But you wouldn’t get it. All you think about are those comic books and being a nerd! You’ll never get laid, Bambam.” Kaylee protested, crossing her arms and scanning the crowd for number sixteen.

“What I do with my life is not your concern, Kaylee.” He took off his camera and placed it in its secure case. “Not you, not our darling brother, no one. I’m gonna follow the crowd to whatever party these guys end up at. Try and get some pictures for the baby. Do me a favour, if you open your legs for that idiot, put a sock on the door or something so I know it’s you in there and I don’t accidentally take a photo of my little sister getting railed by an Edenridge Moron.”

“Wow, wow, wow. Don’t need to have a stick up your ass, bro. You know maybe one day you’ll take pictures that I don’t know, make you smile, instead of stirring the pot. It’s going to get you in trouble one day!” Kaylee patted the back of her brother before skipping away, “Well, I’ll find the deetz and text you. See you, Bambam.” And with that she playfully blew her brother a kiss before socializing with the enemy to see if she could hitch a ride and make her mark.

Tonight was going to be fun.

Edenridge

_{Timestamp: Current IC Day - Monday
(Day Dear David letters get sent out)
@LovelyComplex & @BrutalBx}

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Freshly moved into her dead love’s bedroom, Penelope had a little under a month to get used to this, living at the Deckers. She saw Rhonda everyday now right before she left (around breakfast time) and when she returned. Poppy spent days just laying in Charlie’s bed imagining all the things he thought about while he was alone in this room. His room. From time to time, she would look out the window towards Allegra and Mordechai’s new room, her old one, and give them a wave like he would with her. This wasn’t so bad. This was a little painful but she was managing. If anything, it made her feel at peace.

Penelope was grateful that the same day Allegra came to town, Rhonda accepted her. Her second mother looked forward to the company. It was a no brainer she would say yes. Poppy did find it a little weird to live in the room that now that she thought about it, she was rarely in. Charlie was always over her place. She didn’t really need to climb his window like he did with her. She did enter his bedroom a few times throughout the year, like when he was sick or when he would randomly text her ‘hey’ but was too bruised to climb her window. One night she came unannounced. That night was one of the worst nights they had because they argued. She didn’t even remember what the argument was about, all she knew was he broke her heart that night. That was neither here nor there and all in the past. The past was just that, the past.

The feeling of nostalgia washed over her everyday, as if Charlie had only left to do business and would soon return. As if he went on about his day to pick up bagels with cream cheese to enter her bedroom unannounced, but still expected. Poppy could tell Rhonda cleaned in here, dusting his furniture lightly, making his bed, putting his books back after she took them out, right where she got them from; his things unchanged. Although the undertone was subtle, Poppy could feel his mother’s love throughout it all. Rhonda loved her son and Pops could only imagine how badly she missed him, remembering only the best of him. The man that Penelope loved.

His room was a poetic time capsule. His wall of books and vinyl records showed how absolutely passionate he was of the world around him. From classical literature, like Charles Dickens, Mark Twain, and William Shakespeare, to eclectic music (music was like literature to him) with a heavy lean toward Indie and Classic Rock, like Nada Surf, South to Meatloaf, and The Smiths; All which helped him through the night, keeping all the bad noise out of his head.

There was his desk, near his window, which had his computer, TV, and PlayStation on top of it. And now, his manuscript was laying on it, no longer hidden, waiting to be read. She still didn’t have the courage to read it. This was a lot of change for her in a small amount of time. Baby steps. That’s all she could do. Baby steps. Inside his desk were his writing supplies and notebooks he hadn’t touched yet. Under his desk, there was a small fridge and a box with his video games. Not too many games but enough to keep him busy. A lot of his money went to supporting his mother. The books and the records? Charlie was well liked (until that day). Uncle Campbell likely gave him some free records and even gave him discounted ones. The books were a collaborative effort from his mother, her family, her, himself, Beau, and etc. He was well loved, he just stopped seeing it, which sucked.

On the wall behind his bed frame, he had a small display that surrounded the Gallows poster. Around the poster he placed ripped pages of his favorite books. To the right of the poster, he had a framed picture of his friends, all the Southies she knew he loved. Then there was his door with a painted quote. His favorite quote ’There is a tide in the affairs of men…’ from Julius Caesar. Freshman year, she and him painted it. It was one of her fonder memories of him and with him, though they were stupid and ended up getting more paint on each other than the actual door.

In the background one of his records, Paint the Silence by South, played as she sat on his bed looking at her phone. Recently, Shannon was able to get Penelope to throw away her face masks. A shield for her during social situations. Shannon was reaching breakthroughs with her client and potentially curing her agoraphobia. A long hard battle of trust building and hoping Poppy would receive her. Since the night at the grave, the James girl was nothing but receiving. Listening and trying to change for the better. She needed to live.

Slowly but surely, Pops began wearing her nicer clothes that she hadn’t worn in years (they still fit her, even if she lost a lot of weight). Unfortunately for Decky, she still hadn’t returned his hoodie, but she also wasn’t wearing it everyday like she did throughout the past month. There was more color in Poppy’s skin and more emotion, no longer chained by grief. Her grief was still there but she was getting better control over it and how it dictates her life. She was getting there and everyone was noticing.

It was Monday and she had the day off from the cafe so she decided to take a leap of faith and wear a summer dress. Something she usually only wore to show off to Charlie. Her skin was pale as hell but at least she was exploring outside of jeans, tanks, hoodies, and Charlie’s jacket. She was still going to wear Charlie’s jacket. It was hers now, so that wouldn’t stop anytime soon, if at all. She needed at least one comfort item. Along with that, she wore black converse, put her hair up in a messy ponytail, and applied concealer and mascara. Can you believe it? She put makeup on! Not a lot, but enough to make her look less like a walking corpse and more like a human fucking being. And of course, she couldn’t forget her teardrop necklace that held Maxine’s ashes. Poppy fully loaded. Charlie’s jacket and Maxine’s teardrop were strictly mandatory and became a staple in her look.

Sitting on her bed, having gotten up earlier than usual, Poppy debated if she should text the crew - Jade, Decky, Allegra, and the kids - to see if they wanted to hang. She could visit her family’s house to tell Decks and Legs but the last time she did so, Decky was an unbecoming sight (he was basically naked). It might be better to text. She hummed to the tone of the song and it was clear as day that Charlie’s room became a safe haven for her. A place of peace. Her castle. She didn’t feel sad, mad, nor did she feel happy. She simply let herself be. Just be. Mrs. Ramsey was proud of her with all the progress she’s made. There was no doubt about that one.

It was nice to have sound in the house again. Rhonda had all but lived in silence for the last two years, save the shouting outside her window on any given day. Having the noise from her son’s record player bouncing off and around the walls of the house warned her heart.

MOTHER MURDER!

WITCH!

BLIND WHORE!

Ronnie had learned to convert the jibes into white noise, the same way she did when she got similar barbs about James. There were times that the words slipped through the gaps and penetrated the bubble she had surrounded herself. When they did that, she often wondered, what had she done to deserve her lot in life? Rhonda was not a suspicious sort. She did not believe in ghost stories or curses. Charlie did. Charlie had an entire theory about why they had the luck they did and it stemmed from Ronnie’s days at Edenridge High, when she was a cheerleader. The Unlucky Clovers curse.

The Deckers were not any kind of Edenridge royalty. They were not foundlings, they were not Serpents or Gorta. They were just a small family from Maine who moved here in the forties after World War II. Charlie did a family tree for them once, turns out she was Dutch, how fun. There was nothing special about them, they were just there. Then when Ronnie joined the Clovers, things began to change. She was already a knockout; tall, long legs, angular features and her eyes, those startling green eyes, the boys (and some girls) found it all too easy to fall in love with her. Yet Ronnie was quiet, bookish and never attended the cool kid parties.

But then she did.

When Rhonda ventured to a John O’Hara party, she didn’t expect to fall in love but she did. As soon as she walked into the mansion on Scott Street, she saw him. Maybe it was the long hair and the leather jacket? Maybe it was the way he played the guitar like he was fighting for his life? Whatever it was, when Ronnie saw James Strongbow, she was hooked immediately. Their dalliance was all too brief as James’ Gallows commitments tore him away from Eden all the time. It wasn’t fair for her to be waiting all the time. She understood that and let him go where he needed to. The problem was she would need him more now than ever.

When her parents died, Ronnie was seventeen. She had no other family to speak of and had to take care of herself. She had to drop out of school and get a job at the diner. She was there for years, unable to escape. She was working there the night she heard about the St Paul’s Cathedral fire and she was there when James, now going by Father Winters, walked about into her life. He had lost the long hair but he was still handsome but his face was sad, always sad. But again, they were only together a short time before he put a gun in his mouth. This time he left her, he left her with a gift, the best gift, Charlie Jay.

Charlie wondered if his mother had never been a Clover; then maybe her parents wouldn’t have died on their way to a game. If she wasn’t a clover, she wouldn’t have had to take menial work for no money. If she wasn’t a clover, maybe she wouldn’t be going blind. Ronnie always retorted, if she wasn’t a clover, she wouldn’t have had Charlie. No matter what he did, no matter what people thought of her, Rhonda did not regret her life. She did not regret loving James and she did not regret making Charlie. He was her little boy.

Her hand traced the braille paper with her fingertips. She still had vision, on a good day but she found it easier at this point just to lean into her disability. This letter had arrived a few days prior, she hadn’t the heart to tell Poppy yet but she knew she had to. Ronnie just wanted the girl to be comfortable before Charlie broke her heart again. Pulling herself to her feet, letter in hand, Rhonda made her way towards what was once her son's room, now belonging to his great love. She cracked open the door a touch and knocked twice.

“Hey baby girl, can I come in?”

“Oh, yes. Of course,” Penelope pocketed her phone inside Charlie’s jacket before rushing to the door. “Want to sit on the bed?” The young woman offered guidance as she propped the door open wider and gently laid her hand on her mother’s arm; Her mother not by blood but through love. “I hope the music isn’t too loud. It helps start my day right,” And keeps Charlie’s memory absolutely positive in her mind.

Living in the Decker household was a little bittersweet because Rhonda was supposed to be her mother-in-law. Rhonda was such a beautiful woman that had so much strength for her circumstances. No matter how hard things got Rhonda fought. She was a fighter. The best kind. Nothing Edenridge threw at her would take her down, and it was admirable to watch and see. Poppy could only imagine how much life hurt her. How many times she thought about giving up. And yet, here she was, allowing Poppy to stay with her and keeping Charlie’s memory alive.

Penelope knew in her heart that one day Charlie would make her his. All the grief and doubt, all the questions of whether or not he loved her or not, none of that matter. She waited for him. Waited for him to say three words. She waited and wouldn’t stop waiting even after death. That’s because she knew he loved her. He was the one for her. Her soulmate. But she knew better, Charlie communicated in prose. Poetry and lines from books. He was a socially awkward kid who put his fist in his mouth - metaphorically speaking - when he tried to express his vulnerability. Thinking back on all their moments, that’s one thing she loved about him. God, she loved him.

The Charlie she loved always found his way back to her and through action, they held each other close. Through action, they stood at each other’s side. Through action, she was always there. She never left him. She would never leave him. All she ever wanted was to be his constant, the one that grounded him and made him feel happy and safe. In her heart of hearts, she knew that was the love of her life and her future husband. She would’ve married him, if he were still alive. She loved him. After all this time, she still loved him. And that’s never going to change. He was her Forever.

“Is everything okay?” Penelope warmly asked, as she looked up at Rhonda with kindness and love.

Ronnie allowed herself to be led by Poppy to what was once her son’s bed. Having the young girl here had added so much life to the house, even if Penelope was still searching for a way to increase her own. Rhonda had spent many hours chatting with Victoria on the subject of the young Penelope James; on how she was a shell of her former self. Maxine’s premature death traumatised her; Charlie’s destroyed her. Yet Ronnie had seen such a change in the girl, she was rebuilding, slowly. She didn’t want to halt that progress but there was something that Poppy needed to know.

“I’m not sure,” Rhonda responded as she sat down next to her son’s great love. Today she could see shapes and a little colour. Tomorrow, perhaps there would be more, most likely less. She was having more bad days than good ones recently. She entwined her fingers with Penelope’s and smiled. “You know it’s funny, when I found out that I was pregnant, after I got over the initial pray to God moment, I thought to myself, I would love to have a little girl.” Her cloudy green eyes danced around the room in reminiscence. “I could teach her makeup, how to do her hair, and teach her how to dance. Then nine months later, I get Charlie Jay. You know he’s named after my mother? And instead of learning how to color coordinate, he’s teaching me about Wainright. Now you’re here, the daughter I always wanted.”

With all her heart, Rhonda adored Poppy, she truly did. Even with her vision, she could see that her son was in absolute love with this girl. It was in his cadence, in the way he morphed into a competent different person when she was in the room, in a good way. It was in the way, late at night, that he would recite texts of love before climbing through her bedroom window. Rhonda always knew. Her face soured somewhat at a memory. Charlie was so much like his father in many ways, not all of them good.

“Penelope, I’m glad you’re here.”

Penelope squeezed Rhonda’s hands, if only she had come sooner. There was a sadness in Rhonda that the girl could feel simply by her aura. If Poppy hadn’t fallen apart, she could’ve been here to take care of her. The grief was too heavy at the time and all she could do was focus on herself and her grief. It was a selfish thing but no matter how hard she tried, everything was so fucking painful and all she could do was internalize. She made it this far because she completely shut down and closed off from the world, but like Charlie said, it was time to live.

There was no use in regretting and wishing things went differently. So many things could’ve been done differently, but what was the point of thinking about life like that? Penelope was drowning and finally, she had her head above water. She was here now and that’s what was important. “I’m glad to be here, mama.” There were only two people Poppy considered her mother and one of them was in this room with her. “How are you holding up? I’m sorry I haven’t checked on you sooner. It’s not that I forgot you or anything. I really do love you.”

“Baby girl, don’t worry about me,” Rhonda smiled sweetly at the younger woman. “I made my peace with the world a long time ago. You on the other hand, you’ve still got some fighting to do.” She leaned in and kissed the top of Poppy’s head. She really was such a sweet girl and if the world were a different place, Ronnie would be proud to call her daughter. “I love you too, by the way,” And she meant those words. She had watched a bright, sparkling young child blossom into a beautiful woman. One of the last clear memories she had was graduation day. Rhonda couldn’t go for obvious reasons but Vicky was kind enough to take pictures and although sad, Poppy looked radiant.

She was dragging it out; she didn’t want to. She was scared. Rhonda Decker didn’t hide from a fight though and if she could teach Penelope anything during their time together, it would be to never stop fighting. “What did Charlie tell you about his Dad?”

“His part in the Gallows. The fire. His mental health. The aftermath and how it impacted you. Charlie didn’t like talking about his dad much. Occasionally, he’d bring something up but then he would move to the next best thing, quickly. I had to piece it together after some time. I don’t think he really wanted to burden me so… he just didn’t tell me things. To protect me, I guess.” Briefly, Penelope’s tone saddened as she thought about all the times Charlie failed to express himself to her. For anyone else they wouldn’t last in a friendship like that but for Poppy she couldn’t help but wait for him to open up to her. In his time. Always in his time. She waited for him to see her. Really see her. See that she would always be there. Come rain or come shine, she trusted him and would never leave his side. Though it hurt so bad, it was her and Charlie. Always her and Charlie. “Sorry I don’t have anything more… some friend I am…”

“No!” Ronnie interrupted. “No. Don’t ever make yourself feel like you weren’t enough because he didn’t share enough. I love my son but he had his ways which I never agreed with.” The older woman looked towards the piece of paper in her hand. The time had come to tell Poppy another heartbreaking home truth about her beloved.

“When I was with James, he wasn’t himself or at least he wasn’t how I remembered him. After the fire, he just seemed so lost. I knew from the off that whatever we had wasn’t pure, it wasn’t real. It was a symptom of his growing illness.” Rhonda releases her grip on Poppy’s hand and passes her the note; a letter. It was two pages, one normal and one in braille. “He liked to disappear for weeks at a time and I didn’t question it. I wanted to let him do what he needed to. All I knew was that he was going back to the reservation where he was born; Blue Hills.”

The Blue Hill Reservation was a little ways away, around two hours in a car. It was a place nestled in a small valley between Boston and Salem. It was fairly small and definitely struggled financially based on what James used to tell her. She had heard that most people there were good, hardworking people who had fallen on hard times.

“Does the name Mitena mean anything to you?”

Deeply staring at the letters, Penelope shook her head, having no clue what Mitena meant. “No ma’am, I’ve never heard of it,” That sinking feeling crept in her chest once more. She wasn’t so much different than the woman sitting beside her. Charlie had his secrets. She kept finding more of them over time. Maybe what she had with Charlie wasn’t pure either; it wasn't real. Maybe their love for one another was only something fabricated because of his growing illness. The sadness and doubt flushed over her. She was doing so well too, keeping these feelings at bay. Did Charlie not love her like she loved him? “What does it mean?” Her voice broke, as she glanced up from the letters to look at Rhonda.

“Mitena is a girl that Charlie and I met during your freshman year at Eden. She came from the Blue Hill Reservation. She was James’s daughter that he fathered during our time together. Poppy, she’s Charlie’s sister.”

Ronnie’s mind drifted back to that day. It was a few days removed from the Davies girls death and Charlie was doing a genealogy report. It flagged that his father had signed another birth certificate a few weeks after Charlie himself was born. They chased the lead to a young girl in the Blue Hills who had just lost her Mom. After much cajoling, Charlie and Mitena met in a coffee shop and talked for hours and then went their separate ways. Rhonda didn’t know if her son wanted a relationship with this girl, based on this brand new letter, it was fairly obvious he did.

“He said he didn’t want to know her so we only ever met her the once or at least, that’s what I thought. That letter in your hand? It says Charlie Jay wrote to her every week, that they exchanged gifts and he sent her money once a month.”

“Oh,” was Penelope’s initial response. What did Rhonda want her to do with this information? Why would Poppy knowing Charlie had a sister be important, in any way? He had a sister and he didn’t care to tell her. A sister he wrote to frequently and sent her money. Why was it whenever she seemed to rebuild and heal, everything fell apart just as fast? “I… I don’t understand why you’re telling me this,” the young girl breathed, looking away from her second mother figure.

With a lost stare, she searched around the room, searching for answers but only seeing him. Everywhere she saw him. All she saw was as him. Swallowing hard, she sat there, feeling that drowning sensation once more, where no land was in sight. Falling deeper and deeper into her own grief. “I’m so tired, mama. I can’t handle this tide… it’s like crashing into me again and again and again. I get my head above water, I breathe, and then I’m pulled under again. There’s nothing to grab onto and I’m too deep to stand up… I’m tired of this feeling. I don’t think I can do this anymore. I wished Charlie had killed me.” She wanted to die.

“No!” The older woman said. The poor girl was hurting as she had every right to. Nobody knew Charlie like Poppy did, not even Rhonda. They were a part of the same person and when he died, a part of her did as well. Her recovery has been slow and it had been difficult and now all that hard work was being undone. “No! Don’t you dare!” Ronnie wrapped her arms around the young girl and pulled her into her motherly embrace. “I can’t pretend to know why he would keep this from you, I don’t know why Charlie did a lot of the things he did but what I do know is that if he could see the pain he was causing you, it would kill him. He loved you and I love you too, you are one of the little joys in my life.”

She had made peace with a lot of the sadness in her life. What Charlie did, what James did, what happened to her parents and her eyesight, it all just was what it was. Yet there were rare instances, when Rhonda was alone and the world fell silent. She could not hear, she could not see and she could not feel. She imagined that this was something similar to what the young girl in her arms was feeling. “I had to tell you Pops because the person who is tormenting us, whoever it is that is twisting my little boys words, they’ve threatened her.” Ronnie’s eyes were welling up, tears began to dance down her face. “She is innocent in all of this and some monster is saying they want to hurt her because of what Charlie did. The police won’t do anything and I refuse to let what my baby boy did cause any more harm to people who don’t deserve it.”

From tormented soul to Street Angel, Penelope narrowed her eyes as she adjusted her position to wipe Rhonda’s tears with Charlie’s jacket sleeve, “Are you serious?” From sadness to anger, Penelope pushed her grief to the side to take in all the pain and emotion of Rhonda and let it build up inside her. “Is that why you told me? You need me to get a crew and fetch her? What a sicko. When I find out whoever is toying with my family, I’m going to kill them.” Poppy didn’t say that last part lightly. As much as she wanted to sulk in her pain, that would not accomplish anything nor would it give her closure. Charlie was dead and he did what he did. She couldn’t change the past. But for someone to bring in his sister who has absolutely nothing to do with this cursed town? That was next level despicable. “I’m sorry mama, I got in my feelings but you brought me back. I’ll take care of it and I’ll take care of you.”

Rhonda wiped the tears away from her all too clouded eyes, using the warmth from Poppy’s body in her arms to guide her emotions back to a level plateau. “I don’t know if we can bring her here, she has nothing to do with us and she has a life of her own.” All this was still a lot for Ronnie to process. She held no personal responsibility to this mystery child but she held one to Charlie and one to Poppy and she knew that neither would let something like this lie. “But maybe take your friends just to check in on her? Warn her maybe? I don’t know. I’m not even sure really why I care so much. Maybe it’s because he would care.”

The elder woman could feel herself getting a little light headed, a common occurrence for her and it was becoming harder to think clearly. “You don’t have to do anything, Penelope. It’s likely just idle threats and I shouldn’t burden you with this. I wouldn’t even know where to start. I only know the girl's name.”

“The girl's name and the reservation she stays at. That’s more than enough information for me. I’m going to do it because it’s the right thing to do,” Penelope passionately decreed before assisting Rhonda up from the bed. “Here, let me help you. We’ve had a long morning and you need rest. I’ll take care of things. Promise.” Penelope had already decided. There was no convincing her any other way. Stubborn as a mule Charlie would say. She would find Mitena and try her best to protect her in any way she could. Definitely bringing her father’s gun with her. For Rhonda, for Charlie, and for herself. “I won’t let you down, mama.”

Perhaps along the way she’d find out more about Charlie. As scary and painful it was to find out new information about the love of her life, Poppy craved for more. She wanted to know everything about Charlie, including all the things he never told her. This journey would be a stepping stone in the right direction of reaching inner peace and simmering down the constant raging war inside her.

“Thank you, Poppy. You have no idea how much this means,” Rhonda followed the young girl's lead as she walked her towards her own bedroom for some rest. She hated this part of it; the exhaustion. Ronnie was a healthy and fit forty three year old woman that some younger would consider a hot mom, yet she could barely walk around her house without help. It was embarrassing.

Taking a seat on her own bed, she held onto Poppy’s hand. “Baby girl, the other day your Mom and I were in town, I was having a good sight day and we saw that girl, Natalia Belmonte from your class? She looked so lonely. So broken. Maybe ask her to go with you? I know she was friends with Charlie, what if she could help?”

Natalia Belmonte, the Queen Bee of her year, was friends with Charlie? Was Rhonda mistaken? This didn’t sound right at all. Still, even if it felt extremely far-fetched, this was something Charlie’s mom wanted her to do. There were so many questions flooding her brain but instead of protesting or asking the older woman why, she simply said, “Of course. I’ll make sure to see her first before grabbing the others.” With a frustrated sigh, Penelope helped Rhonda lay down before kissing her forehead, “I’ll make sure she’s okay. I’ll make sure they’re all okay.” This was the least she could do. Rhonda was allowing her to stay at her house and if she thought Natalia could be of use and Mitena needed saving then it was a no brainer that Poppy would do this. On top of her love for Rhonda, the dark haired beauty needed answers and it felt like she would find out some of them soon.

Cheers to finding Mitena Strongbow.

Charlie, what are you doing to me?

Edenridge

_{Part 1 out of 2
Timestamp: Proceeding after Viv/ReyRey leave the Northside
@Venus & @LovelyComplex}

____________________________________________________________________

While chaos had continued to ensue in the Belmonte household, the girl who had been just struck in the face had found solace behind the door of the luxurious home’s guest bedroom. She laid curled up in the middle of the queen-sized bed, silently crying in shame, guilt and anger. Shame, at having been discovered and photographed in such a compromising position. Guilt, at the realization that (although not fully responsible) she had contributed to Father Joe straying from his sacred vows time and time again. And, finally, anger at the way this whole situation had gone down in the first place.

After the way Cat had just treated and disrespected her, there was no way she would be staying in Edenridge any longer. Who was she to pass judgment on what she did or didn’t do? What gave her the right to lay a hand on Peach, when her own parents hadn’t even done so, ever? Hell, why had Sofi followed her into the church in the first place? And what had compelled her to pull out her stupid phone to take a picture of her and Joe in such a compromising position and then show it to her mom? It’s not like Tiff had done anything to deserve this type of behavior from her nosy cousin and her equally nosy daughter. All she had done was have her own personal fun, help her Uncle Tazzy and her Auntie Silvia, and mind her own business. And what she had gotten in return was being humiliated and exposed in front of her family.

That was the final straw.

Eventually, after she had tired herself out from crying, Tiffannie rose from the bed and began to pace around the room repeatedly. Her large pink suitcase and pink Hello Kitty travel bag now sat open atop the queen-sized bed, while different articles of clothing were being snatched from the closet and carelessly flung in their direction. In between sobs, sniffs and the wiping of tears, the blonde continued to gather her belongings from the bedroom. Once the vast majority of her items were strewn across the bed, she began the methodical process of folding and packing to fit everything into her luggage. There was only one thing on the blonde’s mind at the moment.

She was going back home to Los Angeles whether her parents wanted her to or not.

Once silence had fallen on the Belmonte home again, Tiffannie tiptoed to the bathroom across the hall with the intention of cleaning up and grabbing her remaining belongings. The shower she took and the ritual of applying her skincare products, although having served to improve her mood, also strengthened her resolve to carry out her escape plan. Once the last of her items had been securely packed, Peach solicited a Lyft drive, slowly and painfully carried her luggage down the stairs and left the home as quietly as she could. To avoid suspicions, she had decided to wait for her ride at the very beginning of the peaceful Scott Street, her slender frame being illuminated by the streetlight she was standing under.

Chase Hunter Warren was blasting dream trance in his car as he did his Lyft job, bringing people safely throughout Edenridge. The furthest he’s ever driven for this side gig was Pinehurst but most of his customers were drunk Edenridge teenagers just trying to get home. As he listened to Suliman by Infected Mushroom, he guzzled down a Red Bull. Ain’t nothing but the grind.

To be honest, Chase, who preferred being called his nickname TNT, was uninvolved with the happenings of his hometown and he could barely remember the day before because he barely got any sleep. All he did was work, work, work so that he could make a decent living and support his adoptive parents. He wore a chain necklace with a blue guitar pick, a white tee, a jean jacket, and black pants with plenty of accidental rips in it.

His knuckles were bruised from an incident earlier, but that was irrelevant. What was important was that someone needed a ride and he was on it. The probability of missing his target was slim to none. A block away he could see a blonde with a pink hoodie that exposed part of her midriff, dark gray velour sweatpants, Uggs, a large pink suitcase, a pink Hello Kitty bag, and sunglasses at night.

That’s a lot of pink.

“Christ,” he muttered to himself as he pulled up to the curb, where she stood under a streetlight looking like a lost, sad baby. Rolling the passenger window door, he leaned over to get a closer look at her. In a matter of seconds, he realized who it was. “Hey aren’t you… shit, what was your name… Tiff? Yeah, from yesterday?” It was clear TNT had no acknowledgement or memory of his disrespect toward her and her new friend, Kylee. When she didn’t respond, he called out, “Hey princess! Come on. I ain’t got all day.”

The sharp tone of her designated driver pulled Tiffannie back from the spaced-out thoughts she'd been engrossed in. She had looked up to greet the man and apologize for missing what he'd said when she recognized who was behind the wheel, and felt her heart sink like a lead balloon inside her chest. The last time she'd been a passenger for this particular driver, he had treated her and Kylee Grimm in such a rude and aggressive manner that she'd ended up silently crying for half the trip home. Even now, as she thought back to the previous night, Peach couldn't understand what was the trigger for the young man's behavior towards them. But whatever it was, she knew she wouldn’t be strong enough to endure it tonight. Her best bet? To try and find somebody else to take her to her destination.

“I guess I should cancel the trip and start looking for another driver," Tiffannie said with a sniff, her pink, glossy lower lip already wobbling dangerously as she removed her sunglasses to reveal puffy blue eyes. "I'm not having a good time right now, and I don't want to give you any more reasons to be mean to me and make me cry again like last time."

Biting his cheek, Chase reflected on the night before. Everything that was coming out of Kylee and this girl’s mouth was pure privilege, but today was a new day and neither girl deserved his aggressive behavior. Fins had asked him about his day and him being completely unapologetic spoke his truth. Fin gave him a good slap in the head and told him his father taught him better than that. “Finding drivers isn’t easy in this town and…” How could he make her feel calm without her feeling pressured? “… and, um, sorry, I guess. About yesterday.” Saying sorry was dumb but he could see Fin giving him that mama bear look that only meant grief for him.

Tiffannie blinked a few times, surprised at the change in demeanor from one day to the next. If she was anything like Natalia, she would hold his previous behavior against him even after this apology. But Peach wasn’t at all like her resentful cousin. She had a kind, gentle, forgiving heart, open to giving second chances to those who deserved them (except when it came to her father, but was neither here nor there at this moment). For all she knew, maybe he’d been having a bad day. She couldn’t completely judge someone over one interaction.

“That’s okay!” she responded with a shrug, offering the man a small, watery smile. “It’s all water under the bridge now. Thank you so much for apologizing, though. It really means a lot to me.”

After putting his car in park, Chase stepped out cautiously, yet steadily and approached the blonde, “No joke. I can be kind of a dick.” He offered to take her bags to put it in his trunk, “Can I make it up to you? I’m not fucking fancy but I could at least treat you to breakfast at the diner? Or I don’t know? Where do you want to go?”

The mention of being treated to something made Tiffannie instantly perk up. Getting spoiled, be it with gifts or food, was definitely one of her favorite things ever. “That would be absolutely amazing!” she exclaimed happily, her face visibly lighting up. “I love breakfast food!”

Man, this was awkward. He didn’t even know this girl. But hey, rarely do you get opportunities to apologize to a stranger. As if a sixth sense went off, he pulled Tiffannie out of the way of a kid speedily biking down the sidewalk, “Hey watch where you’re going, fuckhead! It’s ten at night! Da fuck you think this is?!”

Tiffannie had let out a little yelp at the sudden action, momentarily losing her balance and stumbling right into Chase’s chest. As he cursed out the kid who had nearly collided with her, she looked at him in wonder, and couldn’t help but laugh. “That was a close one!” she giggled, amused at both Chase’s heated reaction and his fast reflexes. “Thank you for saving me.”

“It was nothing,” Chase glanced down at the girl who was wrapped in his right arm staring up at him. He didn’t even process what happened. All he knew was something was coming at them and he didn’t want her to get hurt. With her being this close in proximity (literally up against him), he finally was able to take a look at her and see how attractive she really was. Honey hair and honey skin-- everything about her gave off a warm, gentle sweetness: from her sun-kissed lips to her blue eyes. Even in her eyes, they had the sweetest threads of caramel. Clearing his throat and releasing her, the southie masked his embarrassment with an apology, “Sorry for… touching you.” The girl shrugged. He really was horrible with these kinds of things. “Where were we…” He had lost his train of thought, as he tried to remember everything that happened before the bike. Stupid fucking bike.

“Oh shit, I don’t think you really know my name. Most call me TNT but uh, since you're born on this side, I’m Chase.” Oh wait, she might’ve known that since the Lyft app gives out his name as Chase W. Pulling out his old Jitterbug Smart2 phone, he opened up the app and read Tiffannie T. “And you’re Tiffannie…” He should get out of dodge while he still could. Trying to be amicable was not fucking easy. How the hell did Tov and Fin do it? He was all kinds of awkward and she probably could tell.

"Mhm! That’s me!" the girl proclaimed cheerfully, nodding enthusiastically at her savior. Smiling brightly, Tiff politely extended her hand out to the young man. “It’s nice to meet you, Chase! I’m actually not from here, but I stay with my mom’s side of the family down the road. So that counts, right?” she explained with a small shrug. The boy responded relatively confused as he stared at her hand, like he was debating if it was a trap or not.

In the midst of her rambling, Tiff remembered what Chase had just said at the beginning of his introduction, and she let out a dramatic gasp. “Oh my God, you’re not going to believe this, but… I’m a TNT too!” she said with a small squeal, excitedly clapping her hands together at this cute little coincidence. “My full name is Tiffannie Noelle Taccone, so my initials are TNT too! This is so cool!”

“Heh… I guess it makes more sense for you than me. It’s a nickname for me. We southsiders - names mean you made your mark. Doesn’t matter how involved you are…” He hesitated, not knowing how aware this girl was of the gangs in this town. “... with the people, but a name is kinda’ like a badge. You have one? Cool, you’re not a nobody. You don’t? Best kill yourself now before someone else does.” He nervously chuckled. That might’ve been too intense. He should clean that up. Fast. Fin would slap his head if she knew he scarred an innocent girl. “I’m kidding! Yeah, ha, ha, funny joke. Anyways!” Chase rushed to the passenger side and opened the door for her, “My apologies. Diner food?”

Tiffannie nodded enthusiastically again, making sure to thank Chase for opening the door for her before taking a seat inside the vintage vehicle. As much as she wanted to avoid being nosy, the young woman couldn’t help how her eyes roamed around her new surroundings. The carpeted floor in front of her was littered with empty Red Bull cans she’d almost stepped on when boarding the vehicle, with one additional open can currently sitting on the cup holder between them. A pizza box rested atop the dash right in front of her, filling the car with its delicious, mouth-watering scent. And beside the pizza box, in the middle of the dash was a…

“Oh my God! It’s a Squirtle plushie!” she shrieked, immediately turning to Chase, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “Can I touch it? I love plushies! They’re so cute!”

With the trunk open, Chase had placed all things pink inside the back of his car. Suitcase, check. Hello Kitty bag, check. He heard her squeal. Closing the back trunk, he hustled to the driver seat and opened it, “What? What happened?” When he noticed she was swooning over his Squirtle, he gave an ‘ah’ before taking a seat. After getting situated he reached for the plushie and placed it on her lap. “How old are you anyway?” Was that too forward? Probably.

“Eighteen!” came Tiffannie’s prompt response as she occupied herself with examining and cuddling the adorable plushie in her hands. It was so soft and incredibly cute, like a kitten or a baby bunny. “I’m a Piscesssss: February birthday. What’s yours?”

“April 17. Sometimes Easter. Aries. Twenty.” He replied as if he was writing the answers on a questionnaire before starting his car up. Easing on the pedal, he began cruising to his destination completely leaving the topic of age to rest and focusing on his objective. The diner. Leaning back a little, while holding the wheel with his right hand, he looked to his phone to see what song was about to play.

His playlist was on shuffle and the song to come on was one that immediately triggered him. The first song his brother learned how to play on the guitar. Crazy Train by Ozzy Osbourne. Chase’s face grew pensive as he thought of all the lost dreams that got buried with his brother that awful night.

Grabbing his phone, he was quick to change the song to something that made him feel less like shit. FUCK YEAH, Chop Suey by System of a Down. When the drums started playing in the intro he tapped his hands on the wheel and then the build up game where all the other instruments joined and he started hardcore banging his head. With all the pent up aggression he held inside he yelled, “WAKE UP! (wake up). GRAB A BRUSH AND PUT A LITTLE MAKE-UP. HIDE THE SCARS TO FADE AWAY THE SHAKE-UP. (hide the scars to fade away the…) WHY’D YOU LEAVE THE KEYS UPON THE TABLE? HERE YOU GO CREATE ANOTHER FABLE.”

It wasn’t hard to miss the way Tiffannie flinched when Chase began bellowing out the words to the unrecognizable song on the radio, or how she discreetly covered her ears in an effort to preserve their integrity. As someone who was not a fan of heavy-sounding music, the blonde was finding herself in something of a nightmare situation of sorts. Of all the citizens of Edenridge, what were the odds that she’d find herself in a car with the person whose music tastes seemed to be the polar opposite of hers? Why couldn’t they just listen to something that wasn’t as violent, like Dua Lipa, or Ariana Grande, or Olivia Rodrigo, or throw it back with some Britney or Christina?

The thought of saying something definitely crossed the girl’s mind. But with the past night’s interaction still fresh in her mind, the last thing Peach wanted was to upset Chase and for him to get mean and make her cry again. So instead of politely requesting a change of genre or even for the radio to be turned off, she offered him another small smile and sucked it up. Just because she didn’t like the music didn’t mean that watching her driver let loose with it couldn’t be entertaining.

“I cry… when angels deserve to… DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” And so the song went on for another two minutes and thirteen seconds. An excruciating wait for someone who doesn’t fancy this type of music. When it was done Chase’s demeanor went back into relaxed mode. Turning the music off, he now chose to enjoy the calm after the storm. He had gotten so into his music that he forgot there was a girl next to him holding his squirtle. They were almost at their destination. Instead of starting a conversation the socially awkward southsider sat in the quiet, focusing his eyes on the road. Hopefully his guest didn’t mind the ride. He should’ve cleaned up. Then again, he didn’t actually care that much of the mess. Something was just telling him it was courtesy. Oh fucking well.

For the next two minutes, the young woman sat in silence, allowing her eardrums to be ruptured as the man sitting next to her continued to yell his heart out to the song. She kept her eyes on the road stretching out ahead of them to not make things awkward, but spectated Chase’s passionate rendition out of the corner of her eye and couldn’t hide how the corners of her mouth turned upwards. She always enjoyed watching people do what they liked, with no care to who was around to witness it. Not to mention that her driver yelling out songs instead of hurling insults around made for a much pleasant ride to their destination.

Yet, eventually, the song and the accompanying show came to an end, and Tiffannie let out a small, relieved breath. The sudden silence that fell between them was welcomed with open arms (which was saying something for a chatterbox like her). She thought about initiating conversation again, but after seeing how content Chase seemed to be, she decided against the idea and settled for enjoying the ride again, Squirtle plushie still resting securely on her lap.

Bringing himself down from the high of dance and song, Chase found himself once more in a silent car. Before the next song began to play he glanced over to check on his passenger. She was quiet. For the little time he knew her, her being quiet felt weird. In response to that realization, he grabbed his phone and closed his music app. Dropping his phone back down on the console, he continued to drive but this time in silence. Tapping his thumps on the wheel, he went over a few things to ask her. When he decided on the best route, he noted out loud, “So… you like pink, huh?” Damn, was that the best he had? Her liking pink was fucking obvious. She was the definition of pretty in pink.

“Oh my goodness, yes!” Peach replied excitedly, going from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds. Pink wasn’t just her favorite color ever-- it was her lifestyle. Pink and her went together like peaches and cream. “It’s, like, my favorite color ever! I love it so much that I always make sure to wear at least one pink item all the time! Though if I had to choose a shade, it would be hot pink, rose gold, or pink glitter! What about yours? Do you have a favorite color?”

There was a pause. This wasn’t something TNT had ever thought about. Did he have a favorite color? Or did he just like a certain aesthetic? He processed the question for a moment longer before deciding on his answer. “Yeah, I guess.”

“OOOOOOH! Let me guess!” she requested, putting her finger up to her chin while taking a moment to carefully study Chase’s grunge outfits, pair it to his music taste and the items strewn around the car to come up with her best educated guess. “Is ittttttt… Black?”

Grabbing his Red Bull and chugging the rest down, Chase watched the eager Tiff as she waited for his response like a kitten wanting to get pets. When his can was empty, he placed it back down and nodded, “Yuh. It goes with everything.” Once he answered, they had arrived at their destination. As he parked, he looked toward her and asked, “Is it that obvious?”

The blonde nodded vigorously again. “As obvious as it is that water gets you wet!” she chirped with a tinkling laugh, looking very excited to have been correct in her answer. Realizing they’d reached their destination, Tiffannie shifted her attention to the building in front of her, recognition suddenly sinking in. “Are we at Dolly’s? I love this place! They have the best strawberry cheesecake pancakes I’ve ever had! This is so good!”

“Best spot in town, ‘side from Godmothers,” Taking his key out of the ignition, TNT looked at the excitable Pomeranian-like girl. Placing his fist by his mouth, he cleared his throat, before reminding her, “This on me, okay?” and watching the eager girl nod. Man, being a gentleman was hard but Fin would likely expect a full report if she found out he saw the ‘prissy Disney princess on the other side of the tracks’ again. Yepp, that’s how he described Tiff when Fin interrogated him about his day. She was really good at him bringing up shit that was quite frankly, none of her business. Now, here he was: treating the barely legal blonde to breakfast at night.

Oh. He reached for the plushie to put it back on the dashboard, his hand accidentally grazing her thigh. Leaning forward so that he could position Squirtle in a way that it was facingTiff, Chase didn’t notice how much he was breaching her personal space. His scent was an off-brand of some expensive one, but still did the job of lasting all day as he ran around doing work. It was a mix of mineral salt and spicy ginger, which blendy with his natural scent. Think sweet, spicy, yet crisp and bold with woody undertones. He liked the smell, it wasn’t like Body Axe. It was a little exotic, making him a lot more charismatic than he actually was. Though, that wasn’t why he chose it. He chose it because it lasted all day. “Okay, let’s go.”

With that excited smile still in place, Tiffannie exited the car and entered the diner alongside Chase.

Edenridge

_{Part 3 out of 3
Timestamp: After Lighthouse Part 2
@BrutalBx & @LovelyComplex}

____________________________________________________________________

The next morning, the rookie officer had tried to remain as quiet as possible so as to not disturb the sleeping beauty in his bed. With Gallows “Deep Waters” playing softly on his phone, Clay had bacon on the hob, eggs ready to go and a few other bits and pieces all cooked for a belly timber breakfast. No doubt, Cat would need to fill her stomach after the previous night and he himself had a big shift so he needed his sustenance.

In another world, this would be Clay’s ideal situation. Making breakfast for Cat after passionate nights together. Instead, she fell asleep in his arms on the couch and he carried her to his bed. He sat awake, just watching her for a while to make sure she didn’t throw up. Once he was sure she was ok, Clay went back to the couch and read a book! Ky and Wes rubbing off on him something fierce. He hadn’t slept at all save an hour or two.

At 7am on the dot, Caterina with her wild bed hair searched around with her hand for her phone. She was lying on her stomach. When she couldn’t find it, she pushed herself so that she was on her knees, only to be rewarded with a pounding headache, “Shit,” She muttered. While rubbing the sleep off her face with her right arm she stretched her body, her left arm rising high in the air. When she opened her eyes she realized she was not in her bedroom. Scanning around, she processed her surroundings and then the flood of memories started crashing into her, turning her foggy brain to wide awake and alert. “SHIT,” she repeated.

Although she did feel dizzy spells she needed to get out of Clay’s apartment fast. What if people saw them together? What would her father think if he found out she was at his apartment?! No one even knew about the divorce yet! Rolling off the bed rather ungracefully, crashing onto the floor, she found her dress and her clutch. Her clutch. Her phone. HER CHILDREN! Rushing for her purse she pulled out her phone only to be blinded by the light, “Fuck me.” Why were hangovers so brutal? Reviewing her messages, she saw a bunch of spam from Brooke asking how her night went with that fine piece of ass. Cat ignored her friend and searched for her sister’s number. Once she found Nina, she dialed and waited. As she waited, putting Nina on speaker and throwing the phone on the bed, she started stripping so that she could put her nude plunge bra and dress back on.

“Hey Cat!” Her sister chirped. She was such a goddamn morning person.

“Sorry I didn’t come by when I said I would, I got lost track of time. Thank you so much for watching the kids, I’ll be there soon, okay?” Where the hell was her bra?! Caterina searched around in with an aggressive and frantic urgency.

“No, no, don’t worry about it! Dads actually going to take care of Palermo for the next few days and I was thinking about gallivanting off with the kids to Cape Cod for the rest of the week. Take them to Water Wizz!” Nina happily cheered, honestly looking forward to a break away from Edenridge, “I know you’re going through a lot right now so it might be just what you need. A break.”

Huh. Maybe her sister knew about the divorce. Would make sense if Sofia told her now that she thought about it. Oh there it was. Grabbing her bra off Clay’s office chair, she started putting it on, “That’s really sweet of you, Beanie. Like you’re a fucking life savor. What time are you leaving? I can stop by with packed bags for them.”

Clay had managed to plate up two full plates of a night greasy breakfast of bacon, sausage, egg, beans and some black pudding. His family was Irish and one of the few things he enjoyed of his heritage were the traditional All Day Breakfast. He reached into the fridge and pulled out two small cans and placed them next to the food. Mango, Pineapple and Cayenne Pepper juice. It was the perfect blend when mixed with the greasy spoon special to sort out any hangover his houseguest had.

He could hear some shuffling coming from the bedroom and a smile crossed his face. She was awake, good. That would stop Cat getting pissed when Clay went in to wake her up. If there was one thing he had learned from his many lovers, it was never wake a woman when she wasn’t ready. He turned down the music, having heard enough of his fathers band to last a lifetime and made his way towards the bedroom door.

Pausing for a second, he could hear muffled voices. It was Cat on the phone. Sounded like Nina. Clay had come to know all the Belmontes over the years, perks of being neighbors and family friends. He opened up the door with the intention of silently motioning for food so as to not disturb the call but when the door crept opened the loudest sound came from his jaw hitting the floor.

There in all her glory was Cat, wearing nothing but her underwear, a plunging nude bra that accentuated her assets. Clay didn’t know where to look or whether he was to stop looking. All he knew was that her body was still as amazing as it was when he saw in that bikini so many summers past.

“Wow.”

“Are you with someone?” Nina asked as baby noises were heard on her end. She was likely nursing Angelina. Her question wasn’t anything like prying, just curious because she heard a noise. Nina wasn’t the nosy type - she was more a worrywart if anything.

“No! No. That might’ve been the tv..” Cat grabbed one of Clay’s pillows and darted it at him to get out. “..still on. Or my stomach. Man, I’m so famished. Anyways, how are the kids?” She snapped at the door still seeing a dumbfounded Clay. He’s seen her in a bikini before. It’s not like he hasn’t seen her body.

“We had a movie marathon night with the projector under the stars, we watched the Goofy movie, Toy Story, some great classics. I think they all needed cousin time. There was chatting and playing but nothing out of the norm.”

Clay batted the deadly flying pillow away like he was swatting a fly. He stared at her for a few moments longer, probably too long. “Oh yeah, I’ll, yeah.” He reached forward and closed the bedroom door back over again. He picked up the pillow and tossed it onto the couch as he made his way back to the kitchen, leaning down on the counter top.

This was crazy. This was a crazy situation. He looked very at the photo of the basketball squad and all of their shit eating grins, including Clay’s own. “Don’t fucking look at me like that. Get a haircut, all of you. Not you Clayton, your hair is pretty.” He turned back to look at the door again; on the other side of it was his half naked dream girl who he kissed the night before, he kissed Cat.

Holy shit.

After five minutes, the phone call did come to an end, Cat had put the white dress back on, tried to tame her wild hair down, and used the water by Clay’s bedside and the small toothbrush and toothpaste in her purse to brush her teeth (minimal spitting went inside the cup of water). Following that, she texted the young lad to not come into work until ten. There was no way in hell she’d have the Godmother open for eight. It’s okay though. They know she has a life and she’s a mother so there’s times the Godmother just won’t be open, randomly and out of the blue. She had a loyal clientele that loved her sandwiches. Like the boy in the room over. He supported her more than anyone else.

“Shit,” She looked at herself in the mirror, repeating her current mantra. This is really happening right now. She was losing control over herself and her life, and now she was spending the night at Clayton Costigan’s apartment! And they… turning away from the mirror, having thought about her and him… him and her… she fanned her face.

Nope!

That was just an in the moment thing. It was a mistake and wasn’t supposed to happen but since it did, it’s okay. There was no point in making it a big deal. They kissed. So what? He kisses any woman he gets the chance to. It wasn’t like she was special. And like he said, he didn’t have love in his life! This was exactly how she was when she was his age. No hard feelings. If she was in the same position as him, she would’ve done the same. Have you seen her? She was fucking hot. She knew it. He knew it. Those sparks? That electricity? The fire between them? That was nothing. There was nothing there. They had a good time last night. That’s all it was a good time.

Spending another five minutes mentally preparing herself for her day, Cat started making Clay’s bed and cleaning up after herself. He did her a favor taking care of her so the least she could do was not leave his room a mess. Making the bed turned into her cleaning up all other areas in his room. Another ten minutes passed before she was satisfied. Wiping her hands together, having emptied his basket filled with clean clothes, folded his clothes in the neatest ways, hanging up his more dress-like attire, putting the rest on his bed for him to put away, making sure there wasn’t garbage around like her beer from last night, and bringing light into the dark room, Cat came out of the room with her toothpaste water cup and his small garbage bag (that was in a garbage bin by his desk). “Where’s your trash?” She asked as she entered the room. “Sorry, the food’s probably cold now.”

Through the gap in the door he could see just how clean his room now was. It wasn’t even that clean when he moved in! Cat had gone over and above and he appreciated it. He walked from behind the counter and made his way over to Cat. Clay reached down and took the garbage bag from her, their fingers grazing lightly during the switch. “I’ll throw this out, thanks for that. Why don’t you grab some food? It’s still warm.” He turned and made his way out of the front door and dropped the bag into the trash. The fresh air coming in from the open door aired out the apartment quite well.

When he walked away, Cat closed the hand he touched, putting it behind her back, trying to not think too deeply of such a small thing. They’ve hugged before. They’ve talked in close proximity before. Why did something like that feel different? Focus, Cat. If she could mask her emotions in highschool, she sure as hell could do it right now. There was nothing there. While she waited she brought her glass to the sink, rinsed it, and placed it down, deciding to wash it after she eats and makes more dishes. Yes, her clutch was still in the bedroom but she had time and good smelling food to eat.

Once the air had made its way inside, Clay closed the door over and made his way back into the kitchen. “How are you feeling?”

“Shitty,” was Cat’s immediate response before adding, “But your food should do just the trick,” Cat grabbed her prepared plate and the fork beside it. Standing up and eating, she decided to use this chance to look at the rest of his apartment. It was… barren. To say the least. No color and barely any aesthetic.

Well, it made sense since he worked ridiculous amounts of hours but it also made her sad because it was kind of lackluster, lonely, and lifeless. To her, making a place feel like home was so crucial to feel okay with oneself. At least for her, the more she made a place feel hers, the better her mental health was. The one thing that stood out for her was the photo of him and his friends. Bringing her attention to it, she looked at all the faces, first her eyes falling on David, causing her to frown not out of dislike but out of sadness. Her gaze then fell on Clay and she smirked, “You haven’t aged a bit.”

“I think I look a little more distinguished.” Clay stood on the other side of the kitchen island, facing Cat as she ate her breakfast. He took a fork and began to dig into his own. “My hair got bigger,” He smiled to himself as they ate together, like a couple preparing for their day. This was a strange feeling. There was a warmth in his chest and it wasn’t just because of the hot food. He looked at Cat and he couldn’t help it; the way he felt. Even putting food into her mouth, she still took his breath away. “How is your breakfast?”

Taking another bite out of it, already feeling her hangover getting better, slowly but surely, she gave a flirtatious smile, completely innocent and no motive at all, “Well you know what they say,” she swallowed her food, fixing her hazel eyes onto him, “Clay Costigan always springs for breakfast.”

Such a silly catchphrase he had that she found adorable. There were little things he did that were so unique and so him, like speaking in third person from time to time. Now he would know that she paid attention to him. It was a small way to show she adored him without having to admit it, “It’s good, idiot. Thank you.”

Hearing someone else use his line would probably be laughable but coming out of Cat’s perfect mouth it was quite possibly the sexiest thing Clay had ever heard; even if it did end with her calling him an idiot. “Anytime.”

Their faces were close together again as they ate. She was sober now so there was no moral dilemma, at least for him. He could kiss those perfect lips again and not feel guilty or ashamed and she could do as she wanted. She could kiss him back, his preferred outcome or she could say no and that the previous night was a drunken mistake. If it was the latter he could live with it but he of course wouldn’t be happy. He didn’t know whether to breach the subject or not. She seemed happy, he didn’t want to ruin that.

“You want me to take you dancing sometime?”

Looking up from her plate, she blinked in response, trying to decide if she should say yes or no. There was part of her that wanted to straight out refuse because of how last night transpired. Cat knew if she said yes, things could get dangerous. Very, very dangerous, like sailing in a god awful storm, barely able to see what’s ahead. She didn’t know how to respond. She was still married but that would end without a hitch. She’d make sure of it. What she did know was she had a lot of fun and maybe it was okay to give into temptation?

It wasn’t like what they had was anything serious. It was all fun and games. Regardless, whichever way she did answer, she had to say it with confidence and not show the conflict in her mind. “Sure,” she shrugged, thinking it would be nice to have something to look forward to, “But we may not be able to go to the Afterlife for a while,” she chuckled at the thought. Oops, she almost killed a bitch. After moving her verbal chess piece, to survey his intentions, Cat took another bite of the delectable food. It was his move. Was he going to treat her just like every other girl? Or was there something else there?

Clay smiled. This was almost everything he wanted. “I know a lot of places we could go. It’s a date.” The fact that she said yes, meant she was seeing him. For the first time she was really seeing him.

Bam.

There it was, that pesky moral compass again. He had to ask her, they had to talk about it surely. They kissed and he couldn’t have been the only one that felt that electricity every time their bodies touched in any way. There was a fire, a desire, God he wanted it again.

“Do you wanna talk about last night?”

Placing her plate down, finished with her food, Caterina raised an eyebrow, “What’s there to talk about?” The best course of action was to not get his hopes up. This was the right thing to do because whatever last night was, was nothing special. “I was drunk, you took care of me, we had a little fun and we kissed.” She shrugged and started cleaning up the dishes. “I appreciate the company, Clay, and I’m not going to judge your lifestyle. If anything, I was just like you! I can get down with a casual thing, so don't worry your little head off. We will keep things sweet and simple.”

Looking away from him, she focused on scrubbing her plate with a sponge and soap, never dropping the facade. Confidence was key. “Just let me know when you can fit me in! I’m sure other women want your attention, you can’t leave them lonesome. Like Vanessa, I’m sure she’d love to see your face.” The more she said all this, the more her chest hurt. This was a sensation she wasn’t used to, at least not since her break up with her highschool sweetheart. Even then this felt worse. That was neither here nor there and as such, she proceeded to rinse the plate.

There it was. Sweet and simple. Two words that Clay had been described as far too many times. He didn’t want that with Cat; he always wanted more. She was acting like he managed his love life using an Outlook calendar. He did get around and he did so with a handful of her friends but they offered him something in return; for the not too brief moments he was with them, he felt that one thing that had always eluded him; Clay felt wanted. The problem was, what he really wanted was to be wanted by Cat.

Pulling himself up from the island top, he turned to look at her again. That white dress of hers was like a beacon, calling to him. He hadn’t given up for years and he certainly wasn’t going to now. Last night was not his only chance, just his first. He walked up behind the lady as she did the dishes and put his hands on her shoulders, letting his fingers trace down her arms almost as if they were dancing again. “My schedule will always be open for you, Miss Belmonte,” Clay spoke into her ear with a hushed voice. “I’m the guy for you. Put that under my name in your schedule.”

Fuck.

What was he up to? What was he trying to do to her? Who the hell was this person? She knew about Clay’s reputation. Of course she did, but his seductive charm was never directed to her this intensely, if at all. He was always so good at setting boundaries or maybe that was all her because up until yesterday she saw him as kid Clay and not man Clay. Or maybe she did see him as a man but chose to be oblivious on purpose? Goodness, he had her head all messed up not knowing what to think. Her body was heated and this, and him, were so hot she could feel a yearning, a craving, running through her veins and pulsating through her. It wasn’t like she could escape easily either. He was right behind her. His hot breath causing a tingly ache inside her. This wasn’t right. Right? Her and him?

Impulsively, after turning off the sink, she turned around with her wet hands, just choosing to act in the moment and stop thinking, “First of all, ew, don’t call me Miss Belmonte, you always call me Kitty,” her wet hands rested on his chest. She should push him away, she really should. If they went further, would she be any better than her husband? They were getting a divorce… so that was a good thing, but it still needed to be finalized.

Morals, what were morals?

“Secondly, what the fuck, Clay?” Her mind was hella’ fuzzy and all she could do was look at him, hearing her heartbeat through her eardrums, “… this… it’s just an infatuation…” she breathed, as she got lost in his strikingly intense gaze. At this point, her mask had dropped and it was clear Cat was trying to convince herself to not give in. She had a strong will and yet when she was with him, now in this moment, it was so hard to walk away. All she wanted to do was stay. This was bad as she found herself unable to move. For once, Cat Belmonte wanted something for herself and was getting hooked on a feeling. She didn’t want to lose him.

“Uh huh,” Clay placed his hands onto her hips and pulled her slowly even closer to him. “Infatuation.” He kissed her, God he kissed her properly. He kissed her the way that she had deserved all that time. Yet in his mind and his heart he knew, she wasn’t sure, there was a part of her holding it all back. He could see it in Cat’s eyes the moment before the lips met. He pulled away and took a step back away from her, allowing the woman’s body space to breathe. “I know it’s a lot, so I’ll wait. I’ve been waiting and I can carry on. When you’re sure of what you want, you know where I am. Until then, I’ll just be your favorite customer and maybe your friend too? If that’s what you want.”

There it was again. A kiss. This time not when she was falling apart and drunk. This time when first thing in the morning like a husband did before he left for work. This time when all she could do was see him. This time when they were alone in an apartment. His apartment.

Caterina was the most vulnerable she had ever felt during a kiss. None of her exes, not even Dexter, her highschool sweetheart, made her feel this way. It was so real and yet underneath it all, their primal desire hid behind the bushes, waiting to pounce. How could she think about what she wanted when all she could think about was those lips? A customer? A friend? Clay, can’t you see it’s way past that point? Past the point of no return. All he was doing was making it harder for her to think.

Fuck it.

Cat pushed him against the counter, “You can’t say that after you just kissed me, Clayton.” Her sharp eyes caught his, as she took on how handsome he was and that look, that stare, that smile got into her bones. How he made her shiver. She was repressed and he was toying with her! She was Caterina Belmonte and he was outdoing her in her own thing. Leaning against him, pressing her chest against his, she ran her hand through his hair and grabbed onto him bringing his head down so she could reach his lips. If he was going to kiss her, at least give her more than a few seconds.

There was no teasing anymore. No tracing of the lips and all innocence went right out the door. Rapidly her heart beat, as she gave him a long, hot-blooded caress. Emitting from her was raging passion, uncontainable desperation, and decidedly unvirginal eagerness.

Instead of him leading, like he had done in the Bacheta, it was her turn to kiss him like he wanted to be kissed. A different kind of dance. A dance between lovers and their lips. This gesture, sensual and outrageous, her whole body in motion with his, was to show him that all she needed to know was that he wanted her, truly wanted her, and if his intentions were pure and true, she would give him a chance. There was no battle in their lips. There was no war in how they felt. She saw him clear as day and he saw her. Although she wondered, did he see how imperfect she was? Did he care?

All she ever wanted in life was to seek union and closeness. One breath, one sensation, one fucking heated moment that could last forever. Timelessness like the still sea at night, coated by the luminous stars. The heat rose in her cheeks and before she freed him, she bit his bottom lip. Pulling her head away, she sassily and adorably scrunched her nose, “If you’re going to kiss me, I need you to put a little more effort into it,” she cheesily grinned, deciding for once it was time to not think about anyone else but herself. She may not know the future, but the present was pretty fucking hot right now. If she was his lighthouse, then he needed to show just that. How much she meant to him,

What does the boy who has everything say?

Cat was in Clay’s arms, willingly offering herself to him as he had offered himself to her. He knew in his heart of hearts that in her arms was where he was supposed to be. He had known that for his entire life. Now here they were, together locked in the fiery embrace of a passion unleashed. He couldn’t help but smile as she teased him with her words. This was the Kitty Cat he had known. This was the girl he saw on that boat. The real one.

“I can do that.”

He leaned in and took her lips between his and raising her ever so slightly off of the ground in his arms. She was as light as a feather. This caused the woman to chuckle as they kissed, clearly surprised at how fast he moved her. He pressed her body against the fridge, his hands wandering below her skirt and picking her leg up to wrap around him.

Dominated and handled in ways that would make a good girl go bad, Cat surrendered herself to this man that quite literally swept her off her feet. She could feel him, all of him, and she wanted more. This was something unprecedented to her but now that she had a taste, she knew she would never go back.

Clay had dreamed of this moment. With every taste of her skin, from her lips down her neck and shoulders, he could feel the fire growing more out of control. The waves were crashing down in his mind like a tsunami but that didn’t matter. None of it mattered. The only thing that did was her. Clay’s hand came to rest upon her throat and he gazed into her eyes one more time. This is what it looked like. To be wanted.

And when the moaning started coming out, she said the three words he so desperately needed to hear, in that smoky, fine like wine voice:

“I want you.”

“God, I want you too.”

Clay let out almost a giggle as his elation reared its head. He resumed kissing his lady, with his hands reaching her shoulders and sliding off her white dress. Instantly and fervently, she reached up and took his shirt off wanting to see all of him, like he saw all of her. Once all the clothes were off, she dug her nails deeply into his chest as he grabbed her from her bum and lifted her up. Like a cue on the dance floor, she tightly wrapped her legs around him, with a little assistance from him. They didn’t even manage to get beyond the couch before they were on the floor, tearing at each other, exploring each other, wanting each other.

Finally, his lighthouse had guided him home.

Edenridge

_{Part 1 out of 3
Timestamp: The Wednesday after the Lifeboat collab.
@BrutalBx & @LovelyComplex}

____________________________________________________________________

How did Cat get to this point? She was sitting on the ground, on the curb, in front of a gas station drinking wine straight out of the bottle in one of her best short dresses. Staring out toward a dark void, she took another swig of her delectable poison. While she did so, someone accidentally bumped into her causing her to drop her bottle and spill some of the liquid on the floor, which in return pissed her off.

"FUCK!" She yelled out loud not caring who heard her. The Belmonte woman searched for the perpetrator only to realize she was once again alone in the lot. Whoever he or she was, were gone. How infuriating. Of course things would end in the stranger's favor.

Fucking asshole.

That was some good wine that was wasted and it pissed her right off. They could go straight to hell for all she cared.

After growling to herself, before standing up and declaring her plan, she dialed a number and waited for someone on the other line to answer: “Me, you, Afterlife. It's Latin Night, bitch." Hanging up on the other lady, not waiting for a response, Caterina stood up, bottle in hand, and marched to her car. She shouldn't drive, not with how much she drank, but that wasn't going to stop her. She was Caterina-fucking-Belmonte and she did what she wanted!

It seemed to be a rarity in these modern times that Clay managed to get off shift at a reasonable time. Thanks to staff shortages and a surge in crime, he was being forced to work pretty much every day and doing doubles at that. God bless Chief Broadus. He knew that the older man wasn’t particularly a fan of his but he had told Clay to finish up early and that Detective Nesta would ride with Sly for the rest of the night. Of course the young officer should’ve used the time to catch up on all the sleep he missed and he would but first, there was an IPA and a plate of wings at the Hole with his name on it.

He descended the short steps of the station, swinging his car keys around his fingertip. Clay knew he could leave the car at the bar once he drank and ate his fill. It was only a short walk to his still undecorated apartment but he would never risk drinking and driving. Once he had gotten to his car, he glanced up towards the gas station across the street. A white dress stood out like a beacon of light in the night. It looked like, Cat? Cat! It was her and she looked amazing but also very drunk. Clay stopped to watch her for a second, her movements were sharp and erratic. There was a wine bottle in her hand. She was out of it and about to get into a car. Oh fuck. What was she doing?!

Cat knew what the rational decision was. She should call a Lyft, Uber, or taxi. All which Cat did not do. Instead, she got in her car with the bottle and started her engine. If she died today, she died today. She did not give a fuck. Hopefully not though because she loved to dance especially during Latin night. At least kill her at the club by drinking too much. With fury beyond any god or goddess that existed, she placed the bottle between her legs, letting her dress rise up, and backed up. Once she was ready to exit the lot, she brought her windows down to feel the breeze and then flew like a succubus from hell heading to her next destination.

Clay jumped into his car, quickly turned on the engine and began following his once and former girl next door. The state she seemed to be in, there was no way she should’ve been behind a wheel and all it would take would be for one of his colleagues to see her, pull her over and that would be it or worse she could get into an accident. Cat had kids. The last thing she needed on her conscience or on her record was a drunk driving mark. She was going through too much right now and being a Belmonte wouldn’t save her from it. It would likely only exasperate it. So Clay kept his distance and didn’t turn in the little siren they gave him for whenever he was in a civilian car. Lucky for him he came top of his class for defensive driving so staying behind Cat was an easy feat considering she was driving like she was on Fury Road.

Fortunately for both the officer and the woman, Cat got to the Afterlife without a ticket and without crashing her car. Safe and sound. A blessing in disguise. When she was parked, she stumbled out, her wine bottle now empty and left behind and clutch purse in hand. From a distance she saw Brook and the widest, mischievous grin grew on her face. Even when the bitch lived in Boston, Brooke never refused a good time and for all Cat knew, she was already in the area up to no good. The two women ran to each other and gave one another a deep kiss on the lips. Intimate and tender. Only the best kisses for the best of friends.

“You called and here I am!" After pulling away from the Italian mama, Brook dramatically showcased her body and her dress, raising her hands and arms high in the air for added effect. Spirit fingers. “I already know you had a shit night,” She assessed, her eyes scanning her friend up and down, before hooking her arm on Cat’s, “Let’s go find some fuckfaces and have a good time, yeah? There’s fuckery to spread!”

Cat was in no position to argue since this is exactly what she wanted. And she was drunk. Very, very drunk. Her night had been emotional to say the least and the best release was forgetting all responsibility and having a good time with one of her best friends. This is what she wanted. To have a good time. "Is Harpie working tonight? I would love to see her face."

“Girl, Wednesdays are her days off. You know that!" Brooklyn held onto her friend as they made their way to the entrance of Afterlife to show their IDs and have the time of their lives. Brook could smell the amount of alcohol emitting from her friend but instead of commenting on it, she simply smiled and guided her into the best place on Earth.

"Oh shit you're right,” Cat came to the realization that Harper was mostly a Baylor shift, "Damn. I chose the wrong night to serve my man papers,” Cat admitted.

Brooklyn gasped at the news. “You fucking didn't!"

"I totally did," Caterina grinned, feeling accomplished at all the hardcore evidence she was able to slap her husband with. He was a cheating, lying, good-for-nothing scumbag that deserved to live the longest, most miserable life known to man, suffering hatred from his children and experiencing excruciating pain from here on out. Death was too forgiving for someone like him. Cat was a boss bitch who showed him exactly what he did wrong and what would happen to him if he didn't give her what she wanted. What she wants? A divorce, obviously. "I'm a free woman, Bee." Cat proudly proclaimed. Though they still had to finalize everything, she was basically single,

Brook's immediate response was excitable laughter as the two women entered the club to do some rumba, merengue, samba, salsa and so much more. “'Bout fucking time. He was dead weight, Sis. You know we're going hard tonight, right? Make sure whoever is babysitting your kids is prepared to watch them all day tomorrow. We're getting FUCKED UP!"

Widely beaming like she was a teen again, Cat admitted, "I wouldn't want anything less," as both women disappeared into the depths of the night club to have a good time.

What was once St Paul’s Cathedral, now stood a monument to decadence and excess; the Afterlife. No one really knows how the fire started. No one really knows what happened that day. All that people do know is that Father Winters was to blame. He failed to save so many people, Parrish goers and altar boys alike. Some say that this was the spark of true evil as Winters own son would join his father infamy as Charlie Decker; the purveyor of the Edenridge High Massacre. Where apples fall…

Clay had always been in two minds about this place. On the one hand, it was a sick club, always played great tunes, had a great vibe and was an awesome place for him to indulge in his desires for the fairer sex. On the other, it was known for the large amount of criminal dealings going on within its old limestone walls. It could definitely be a dangerous place for those of a certain kind. It made him worry for his sister, a hostess there who spent her time entertaining clients. He wouldn’t judge her, she was always her own person but he couldn’t help but worry. She was his little sister after all. At least he knew Lamb wasn’t working tonight. He had recorded a text from his Mom asking him to come round the house for a family dinner. Clay passed of course citing work; he had been avoiding any prolonged family time since his return to Edenridge.

He locked up his car and entered the Afterlife a few moments after Cat and Brook. Luckily for him, his stupid face was a well known amongst the regulars so he was allowed in without much of a fuss. Descending the stairs and onto the main floor, he noted that the lights were pulsating, bodies were writhing around and sweating to the beat of the live act on the large stage. It was a good crowd for a Wednesday. Clay made his way to the bar and ordered a bottled beer he could nurse as he surveyed the room for the good lady Cat.

Reaching the other end of the bar, after Brooke got stopped not by one person but three (little miss popular), the heartbreaker duo went to order drinks. Or well, more so Brooke than Cat. Cat was pretty good for now and distracted by the ambience. In awe, she looked around at the lights and the people. It had been too long since she was last here. With her mom’s diagnosis and being a mother of three, and can’t forget the fact that she was a business owner, Cat’s free time was few and far between. As she listened to the song, it was a merengue one nearing its end. She breathed in and out, taking in this peaceful moment, although everything around her was chaotic. Maybe that’s what she preferred or maybe that’s what she was used to.

Chaos.

Turning to Brooke she could see her friend was already getting comfortable with her mark. Damn, she moves fast. Looking past her friend and her target, she could see a familiar floof of hair. The Italian bombshell jumped in eagerness. Did he see her? She had to go say hi. What were the chances they’d be at the Afterlife on the same night?! "Brook, I’m going prowling. I’ll catch you whenever.” The friends exchanged smirks and glances before Cat happily pranced to her young friend. She waved at him when he saw her and then crashed right into him bringing him into a tight embrace, "Clayyyyyy, you have a day off? That’s new.”

For once he didn’t know what to do with a woman in his arms. Clay knew he had to do the right thing but he could at least enjoy a little bit of the wrong thing for a second right? He held her close, feeling the warmth of Cat’s body against his. She looked radiant, even in spite of her very obvious drunkenness. He held onto her waist partially because he was enjoying it but also because he didn’t want her to fall over. “Yeah, I was supposed to be working a double. Chief thought it’d be good for me to rest up. So of course I decided to come to Latin night.”

He couldn’t really tell Cat that he followed her here so that she didn’t wind up in the hospital or in jail. She’d probably take her heel off and put it through Clay’s eye. He brushed a strand of loose hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. God her smile was everything and this was the happiest he had seen her in weeks.

“Clay Costigan does love the salsa.”

"What about the bachata, hm?” As Caterina held Clay close, inches away from his face, she heard the song starting to transition into Prince Royce’s Carita de Inocente. A perfect song to do a slow, sensual dance to romantic lyrics. Of course Caterina was not thinking about that. All she was thinking about was she wanted to dance and her partner could be the one and only Clay Costigan. Pulling out of his hold, she grabbed onto his hands, "Whaddya say? Want to show this old lady your moves?” She playfully beamed. It was a phenomenon to see Cat turn her brain off just to enjoy the moment. It was something she mastered so her drinking didn’t turn into breakdowns and crying fits. Tugging onto him gently which inadvertently got him to stand up, she did a little shimmy, “Pleaseeeeee.”

Show this old lady your moves. There was a joke in there somewhere.

“Yes ma’am.”

He had to play along right? To avoid suspicion. To avoid her figuring out that he was there to stop her getting into trouble. Who was he kidding? He would do his best to control himself but Caterina Belmonte was asking him to dance, touching him and being happy. There was no way in hell that he was going to let this opportunity pass him by.

Clay took off his leather jacket and handed it to the barman that he knew. “Look after that for me, Harry. My good lady wants to dance.” Cat was quick to ease her clutch in that direction so she wasn’t stuck holding it (the bartender didn’t refuse it). Clay took a hold of Cat’s hand again and allowed her to lead them to where she would feel most comfortable on the dance floor, likely the biggest spotlight the Afterlife had. “Caramia,” He bowed his head to his queen.

"Precioso,” She rolled her eyes at his dramatics, even going the extra mile to do a curtsy with her white skirt. When Clay gestured to start in an open position, Cat shook her head in disagreement and closed it in, allowing him to wrap his arm around her body so that his palm was resting in the middle of her back. In response, she laid her arm over his and rested it near his shoulder. He grabbed onto her other hand, keeping a palm to palm hand hold.

The cool thing about Bachata was they could be versatile depending on each other’s skill levels. If he proved to be better than she expected they could go into an open position which would allow them to do complex footwork and turns. Cat preferred a bit of both because while open position allowed skill and talent, closed position allowed passion, connection, and intimacy. The biggest thing though was for each partner to completely focus on one another. Not the floor and not at any distractions. Just him and her staring deeply at each other. Bachata was about fun and since Clay was leading, she’d let him guide her as she got her whole body in motion to the upbeat, energetic dance.

Clay pulled her sharply into attention, taking the first step forward in their conjoined movements. He pressed his head against hers, their noses grazing as he allowed a free hand to track and caress her body. It flowed seamlessly down her arm onto her waist and hip and teased her bare thigh. The pairs’ hips began to move together in tandem, a slinky rotation that went perfectly with the rhythm of the music. He was surprised that she could still move so well based on the amount of booze she stunk of.

It only took a few seconds until Cat’s eyebrow raised as they moved to the music and the beat. The moves he was displaying was of someone who had been dancing like this for years, which meant she could really get creative and see if they complimented each other. They could go wild if they wanted to. Usually coordinating with a dance partner for the first time was a challenge but somehow, he gave her the right cues and she understood them immediately.

She pushed him away in a dramatic fashion and he stopped in his tracks: it was a tease. Clay took a hold of her hand and stretched her arm outright, he let his fingers trace from her wrist down the forearm and shoulder as he circled Cat’s body, inhaling the scent of her neck as he reached down to her thigh and knee and picked her leg up from behind. She spun in his arms and wrapped her aloft limp around his waist as they fell into a dip.

Their dancing chemistry was on fire. When she was back in position, he turned her around so that she was facing the crowd, she glanced up at him partly in shock and partly in amazement. Was Clay always this good with dancing? She did a slow, sensual sway with her hips, her backside up against his, and for a moment, she didn’t see the Clay she knew. She saw a side of him that perhaps she was in denial of? The idea of little Clay Costigan growing up wasn’t something that ever registered in her mind. He was the sweet brother-like kid that went streaking on her father’s boat. This Clay though? Turning around on his cue she was facing him once more and they were sliding on the floor to all the right measures, "Since when did you learn how to dance?” She called out over the music.

“Since I was about twelve, when I realized that you loved it. It got me curious,” It was a purely honest declaration. Clay remembered as a boy, Lamb going over to the Belmonte house for lessons from Cat. Clay would tag along usually because they were twins and they had to do everything together apparently. He would go chill in the garden with the men whilst the girls worked up a sweat. He would peep in and watch his beloved Cat move so gracefully, so powerfully. Maybe it was a way to win her heart? So of course he took lessons when he left for college and it did impress a lot of girls but none of them were the right one.

Cat’s gentle gaze was fixated on her dance partner as she took in his words. She didn’t understand what he saw in her. Clearly she wasn’t good enough if her husband, the man that was supposed to be devoted to her, could sleep around with every fucking slut out there. For someone to get into hobbies solely because someone else really enjoyed it was mind boggling. She loved to dance because it made her feel unshackled. Still, dancing wasn’t enough. The Godmother wasn’t enough. Hell, wine wasn’t enough. There was still this empty void inside her and when the song came to an end, Cat’s demeanor changed. She was so good at not thinking about these things when she drank but being in the presence of Clay and just him adoring her like he did, her hazel eyes grew watery.

Fuck. Don’t you fucking dare.

"Thank you for this… the dance. It really was nice.” Her heart was like a sinking ship as if it just hit an iceberg of emotions she’s been keeping to herself for so long. "Can you take me to the ladies room?” She needed to splash water on her face or something to keep it inside. She wasn’t going to cry. A Belmonte crying in a club? How embarrassing.

“Erm, yeah sure,” He expected the dance to end with the song as was commonplace but to see an entire shift in Cat’s being, that was something Clay had no forethought on. He took her by the hand and began guiding the small brunette through the crowded club. It became easy to maneuver because pretty much the entirety of the Afterlife’s eyes were on them. Cat and Clay’s Bachata had drawn the attention of many club goers. Their movements together, the synchronicity and sensuality was palpable and the atmosphere between them could’ve been cut with a knife.

Clay, for years, had wondered what it felt like to touch Cat in the way he had in the moments prior. The feel of her skin, the scent on her shoulder. He was under no illusions. He understood that his years of attempting to flirt would get him nowhere. She was not only a married woman but she had also watched him grow up. That was obviously a massive bump to overcome. Yet tonight, the way they danced, the way they moved, the way she looked at him with those hazel eyes; there was something there. Chemistry.

The pair arrived at the restroom and he released his hand from hers. “That was fun.”

"It was!” Cat forced a smile only to be met with a woman coming right out of the bathroom. Someone she didn’t expect to meet in person. One of the many lovers of her husband’s, soon to be ex husband. Nicole. The blonde bimbo working for HR in an insurance company. In NEW YORK. What was she doing here? Unless… "You little bitch.”

All grace went out the window because the girl that Cat was when people got near her high school sweetheart came out. Letting go of Clay’s hand, with hellfire in her eyes, Cat rushed to the woman grabbing onto her hair and slamming her against the bathroom door, "HE IS A FUCKING MARRIED MAN! BUT YOU KNOW WHAT?! YOU LITTLE FUCKING SLUT!”

The girls disappeared into the ladies’ bathroom as Cat was going to beat a bitch to a pulp, "YOU CAN FUCKING HAVE HIM YOU HOE! MAKE SURE YOU TELL YOUR HUSBAND!” There was a loud slam as Cat pushed her straight toward a stall with so much force. If it was anywhere else, this woman, who was still processing what was happening to her, would’ve cracked her head open.

Clay had no idea what was happening at that moment; they went from having a great time to Cat trying to kill some random woman in the bathroom. He couldn’t lie, crazy Cat was kind of a kink he would be interested in exploring but not tonight. He wrapped his arms around her flailing body and pulled the woman away from the bathroom, “Come on, babe let’s get you out of here.”

He realized the magnitude of that word, babe. He hadn’t realized it before he said it but now he tempered; the woman in his arms was not his girlfriend or even one of his fun friends, it was Cat Belmonte. She was not someone you called babe Willy nilly. It was obvious that she didn’t even recognize his words as she spat at the woman. “Ok that’s probably enough,” He pulled Cat away from the scene and back towards the bar. “Damn, Cat is crazy.”

"FUCKING ASSHOLE!”

Clay placed her gently onto one of the barstools and put one hand gently onto her face and rested the other on her thigh. “I have a pretty good idea what that was about, so how about you and I make like a tree and get out of here before one of my colleagues tries to arrest you huh?”

"Wouldn’t be the first time,” Caterina crossed her arms feeling her whole body shake in so much anger having flashbacks of the fight she had with her husband this very night. "I was fucking right to throw divorce papers in his face. Fucking hate his face. Fourteen years. Fourteen-fucking-years. I didn’t even want to marry him!” Standing up, getting her clutch and his jacket from the bartender, she gestured for Clay to follow her as she tossed both items to him, "Whatever lets leave, here’s my purse. Text Brooke,” And with that Cat stormed away.

Edenridge

TNT

Nicknames

TNT - for his explosive behavior. His rep proceeds him, he got expelled for reasons.
Pizza Guy - Code for delivery, more often than not of already paid drugs, sometimes more confidential and sensitive items/information.

Age

20

Gender

Male

Sexuality

Into Tiff. Doesn't know what that means.

Relationship Status

Dating... Tiffannie Taccone.

Appearance Details

• Hair: Dark brown | Straight | He lets his hair do its own thing.
• Eyes: Brown
• Height: 5'8"
• Body Type: Lanky
• Clothing Style: Bomber jacket, military green jacket, or a plaid long sleeves shirt -many times paired with his gray hoodie - always, a plain colored tee, jeans, and rundown sneakers.
• Makeup Wise: Occasionally blood stains if that counts.
• Scars, Tattoos and/or Piercings: Left ear piercing. No tats, even as a serpent. At the time, he felt like he had no choice and if it wasn't for Tov, he wouldn't be one. TNT while still considered a snake, does not sport any of the wear and has gotten into fights with his 'brothers'. R2 has made him a delivery boy since he drives throughout Edenridge constantly for jobs. Scars? Plenty. Depends on who's asking.

Personality Traits

Weird → Awkward → Anti-social → Reckless → Pragmatic ^{(solves issues with violence)} →
Antagonistic ^{(if you are wrong or hurt someone he loves, he will take you down. He seems to be numb to any punches thrown at him and has the most intense freak outs)} → Honest ^{(cannot lie even if he tried)} → Reliable → Asshole with a heart of gold → has a high pain tolerance → Vicious combatant

"Fuck you, fuck the rules, I'm doing what's right."

Consider TNT a force of nature, neither hero or anti hero. His closest comrades see him as a violent justice whose reputation proceeds him. Everywhere he goes, his legend grows with his enemies being bruised, bloody, or worse, unconscious. Aside from one accident, he knows he isn't a killer. He is a social outcast that has a tendency to talk in the most unruly, unpleasant, and unyielding kind of ways. With that being said, he does feel and love. He doesn't do what he does because he doesn't care.

Biography

TW: Violence & Child abuse, molestation, trauma

Tick, tick... boom.

Some people have a fan-fucking-tastic life. Others? Pure shit. While this isn't something Chase goes into ever, he and his little brother had an awful upbringing with their parents, the Warrens. Christian Warren was violent for the sake of being violent and Heather watched, doing absolutely nothing about what she saw. In addition to that, both parents had their own vices. Alcohol & drugs go hand in hand. Their father had sex in front of them, verbally/physically/mentally fucked with them, and constantly played mind games. Their mother? Severely ignored and neglected them and was more concerned about her own wants and needs than the suffering both her sons received, Chase taking the brunt of it all.

Christian owned a candy and soda pop shop, The POP! Shop, while Heather was a 1st grade teacher. They were middle of the road in terms of finances. However, they couldn't afford anything on the better side of the tracks. Overtime, the Edenridge police discovered that Christian was the infamous Jawbreaker, a child molester who would take young ones to a motel, have his way with them, break their jaws, and then bury them throughout the Happy Trails of Lyon Park. As for Heather? She might've not had a name but she was just as bad as her husband. A teacher who made 6 to 7 year olds question their existence. Both were apprehended and when TNT was in fifth grade, Conan second grade, they almost got sent to foster care. Instead, Francis Dawson was quick to sweep them up, pulling some strings so they didn't have to experience any more trauma. He was also quick to deal with the Warrens behind bars. Lets just say they didn't last long in jail. Dead on arrival.

Fast forward.

Mayday! Mayday!

Circumstances seemed to constantly be against Chase. To survive, he joined the SSS. He never did agree with the lifestyle but it was that or you got isolated, like the James sisters. The southside was all about finding people that related to your demons and dragging each other to go nowhere. That's what gangs were for. To have this false perception of a family, solely because it was what everyone did. If you were born on the southside, there was no saving those you love. Most either died or became their worst enemies. Pick your poison.

Due to Chase's past traumas he's compartmentalized most of it and doesn't recall anything before he was adopted by Demo. Even if he doesn't remember what he experienced, his actions show all his trigger responses. Chase suffers from a hero complex and has a tendency getting involved in everyone else's nightmares because he can't control himself. A vigilante that isn't afraid to stab himself to get a point across. His adoptive family were the best things that ever happened to him, as they fought him through all the ups and downs to douse the raging fire that resided in him.

Sadly, TNT took a turn for the worst when Conan died. After that, there was no restraint in his violent tendencies. It led to his expulsion and almost his arrest. If it wasn't for Demo's protection, TNT would've been tried as an adult and in prison. If it wasn't for Tov and Fin, he would've killed someone. If it wasn't for Conan, both in life and death, he would've lost all emotions all together. His family try their best to guide him. TNT is hard to reach but at least he focuses on the clockwork grind working many odd jobs and delivering for R2. If it keeps him out of trouble, not harming friend or foe, no one questions it. Still, that doesn't change a lot of his issues are piling up, from six feet under.

Some people were doomed from the start.

TNT is likely one of those people.

Tick, tick... Boom.

Family

• Christian & Heather Warren - birth parents - Dead
• Conan Zachary Warren - "Crazy Train" or "CT" for short - Blood Brother - Danny Boaz's best friend - Died at age 14 (he stood back a year, so he would be one year older than Danny Boaz) - TNT was 18 at the time and had dropped out of Edenridge High - FC: Chandler Riggs
• Oliver “Molotov” Tomlinson - Soul Brother - Age 20 - FC: Chase Stokes ^{@Aces Away}
• Francis "Demo" Dawson - Adoptive Father - 37 - Widower/Single - Father figure to Tov, TNT, & the late Crazy Train - FC: Ryan Hurst ^{@Aces Away}
• Fiona "Zippo" Dawson - Adoptive Mother - Forever 26 (would've been 36) - FC: Winter Ave Zoli ^{@Aces Away}

Misc.

FC: Mark McKenna | 7fff00

• Unnatural fear of hospitals. He'd rather bleed out than get medical aid.
• Suffers from PTSD and neglect, though he's never been diagnosed.
• His preferred choice of a weapon is a hammer.
• His second choice, a bat.
• His third choice, any foreign object in the area or biting. While he doesn't look like much, he is good at improvising, chaos and unpredictability on his side, and always comes out on the top.
• Bully hunter - in highschool, he could not stand bullies. Still doesn't. If he sees someone being mistreated or taken advantage of by someone clearly with the upper hand, he... goes crazy.
• He might have a disorder that causes him to have the worst reactions to certain things, but once again, he hasn't been diagnosed.
• Wears a guitar pick on his necklace.
• He does many odd jobs to support his adoptive family, like Lyft driving.
• Energy drink addict.
• Favorite place oddly enough is a junkyard because he can break things without hurting anyone.
• Big on metal and rock music. His favorite band being the Gallows. He goes to bed with headphones on, listening to music blasting in his ear.
• He also likes psytrance, electronica, dream trance and psychedelic music. Really depends on his mood.
• In his bedroom, there is a small blue acoustic guitar. It belonged to his brother. Something Chase worked his ass off to get two years prior to Conan's death.
• Rides a 1980 Volvo 242 GT that desperately needs to be fixed and tuned up. It's the one thing that he was able to have that belonged to his birth family.

Edenridge

@LovelyComplex@Aces Away I don't know why you guys put it in the OOC for approval when we all know they will be LOL

@Venus

WE GOOD BEANS OK

Edenridge

@BrutalBx@Venus@Aces Away [attached Ace just in case they want to correct anything, since we doing joint family]

TNT

Nicknames

TNT - for his explosive behavior. His rep proceeds him, he got expelled for reasons.
Pizza Guy - Code for delivery, more often than not of already paid drugs, sometimes more confidential and sensitive items/information.

Age

20

Gender

Male

Sexuality

As of now, non-existent.

Relationship Status

Single

Appearance Details

• Hair: Dark brown | Straight | He lets his hair do its own thing.
• Eyes: Brown
• Height: 5'8"
• Body Type: Lanky
• Clothing Style: Bomber jacket, military green jacket, or a plaid long sleeves shirt -many times paired with his gray hoodie - always, a plain colored tee, jeans, and rundown sneakers.
• Makeup Wise: Occasionally blood stains if that counts.
• Scars, Tattoos and/or Piercings: Left ear piercing. No tats, even as a serpent. At the time, he felt like he had no choice and if it wasn't for Tov, he wouldn't be one. TNT while still considered a snake, does not sport any of the wear and has gotten into fights with his 'brothers'. R2 has made him a delivery boy since he drives throughout Edenridge constantly for jobs. Scars? Plenty. Depends on who's asking.

Personality Traits

Weird → Awkward → Anti-social → Reckless → Pragmatic ^{(solves issues with violence)} →
Antagonistic ^{(if you are wrong or hurt someone he loves, he will take you down. He seems to be numb to any punches thrown at him and has the most intense freak outs)} → Honest ^{(cannot lie even if he tried)} → Reliable → Asshole with a heart of gold → has a high pain tolerance → Vicious combatant

"Fuck you, fuck the rules, I'm doing what's right."

Consider TNT a force of nature, neither hero or anti hero. His closest comrades see him as a violent justice whose reputation proceeds him. Everywhere he goes, his legend grows with his enemies being bruised, bloody, or worse, unconscious. Aside from one accident, he knows he isn't a killer. He is a social outcast that has a tendency to talk in the most unruly, unpleasant, and unyielding kind of ways. With that being said, he does feel and love. He doesn't do what he does because he doesn't care.

Biography

TW: Violence & Child abuse, molestation, trauma

Tick, tick... boom.

Some people have a fan-fucking-tastic life. Others? Pure shit. While this isn't something Chase goes into ever, he and his little brother had an awful upbringing with their parents, the Warrens. Christian Warren was violent for the sake of being violent and Heather watched, doing absolutely nothing about what she saw. In addition to that, both parents had their own vices. Alcohol & drugs go hand in hand. Their father had sex in front of them, verbally/physically/mentally fucked with them, and constantly played mind games. Their mother? Severely ignored and neglected them and was more concerned about her own wants and needs than the suffering both her sons received, Chase taking the brunt of it all.

Christian owned a candy and soda pop shop, The POP! Shop, while Heather was a 1st grade teacher. They were middle of the road in terms of finances. However, they couldn't afford anything on the better side of the tracks. Overtime, the Edenridge police discovered that Christian was the infamous Jawbreaker, a child molester who would take young ones to a motel, have his way with them, break their jaws, and then bury them throughout the Happy Trails of Lyon Park. As for Heather? She might've not had a name but she was just as bad as her husband. A teacher who made 6 to 7 year olds question their existence. Both were apprehended and when TNT was in fifth grade, Conan second grade, they almost got sent to foster care. Instead, Francis Dawson was quick to sweep them up, pulling some strings so they didn't have to experience any more trauma. He was also quick to deal with the Warrens behind bars. Lets just say they didn't last long in jail. Dead on arrival.

Fast forward.

Mayday! Mayday!

Circumstances seemed to constantly be against Chase. To survive, he joined the SSS. He never did agree with the lifestyle but it was that or you got isolated, like the James sisters. The southside was all about finding people that related to your demons and dragging each other to go nowhere. That's what gangs were for. To have this false perception of a family, solely because it was what everyone did. If you were born on the southside, there was no saving those you love. Most either died or became their worst enemies. Pick your poison.

Due to Chase's past traumas he's compartmentalized most of it and doesn't recall anything before he was adopted by Demo. Even if he doesn't remember what he experienced, his actions show all his trigger responses. Chase suffers from a hero complex and has a tendency getting involved in everyone else's nightmares because he can't control himself. A vigilante that isn't afraid to stab himself to get a point across. His adoptive family were the best things that ever happened to him, as they fought him through all the ups and downs to douse the raging fire that resided in him.

Sadly, TNT took a turn for the worst when Conan died. After that, there was no restraint in his violent tendencies. It led to his expulsion and almost his arrest. If it wasn't for Demo's protection, TNT would've been tried as an adult and in prison. If it wasn't for Tov and Fin, he would've killed someone. If it wasn't for Conan, both in life and death, he would've lost all emotions all together. His family try their best to guide him. TNT is hard to reach but at least he focuses on the clockwork grind working many odd jobs and delivering for R2. If it keeps him out of trouble, not harming friend or foe, no one questions it. Still, that doesn't change a lot of his issues are piling up, from six feet under.

Some people were doomed from the start.

TNT is likely one of those people.

Tick, tick... Boom.

Family

• Christian & Heather Warren - birth parents - Dead
• Conan Zachary Warren - "Crazy Train" or "CT" for short - Blood Brother - Danny Boaz's best friend - Died at age 14 (he stood back a year, so he would be one year older than Danny Boaz) - TNT was 18 at the time and had dropped out of Edenridge High - FC: Chandler Riggs
• Oliver “Molotov” Tomlinson - Soul Brother - Age 20 - FC: Chase Stokes
• Francis "Demo" Dawson - Adoptive Father - 37 - Widower/Single - Father figure to Tov, TNT, & the late Crazy Train - FC: Ryan Hurst
• Fiona "Zippo" Dawson - Adoptive Mother - Forever 26 (would've been 36) - FC: Winter Ave Zoli

Misc.

FC: Mark McKenna | 7fff00

• Unnatural fear of hospitals. He'd rather bleed out than get medical aid.
• Suffers from PTSD and neglect, though he's never been diagnosed.
• His preferred choice of a weapon is a hammer.
• His second choice, a bat.
• His third choice, any foreign object in the area or biting. While he doesn't look like much, he is good at improvising, chaos and unpredictability on his side, and always comes out on the top.
• Bully hunter - in highschool, he could not stand bullies. Still doesn't. If he sees someone being mistreated or taken advantage of by someone clearly with the upper hand, he... goes crazy.
• He might have a disorder that causes him to have the worst reactions to certain things, but once again, he hasn't been diagnosed.
• Wears a guitar pick on his necklace.
• He does many odd jobs to support his adoptive family, like Lyft driving.
• Energy drink addict.
• Favorite place oddly enough is a junkyard because he can break things without hurting anyone.
• Big on metal and rock music. His favorite band being the Gallows. He goes to bed with headphones on, listening to music blasting in his ear.
• In his bedroom, there is a small blue acoustic guitar. It belonged to his brother. Something Chase worked his ass off to get two years prior to Conan's death.
• Rides a 1980 Volvo 242 GT that desperately needs to be fixed and tuned up. It's the one thing that he was able to have that belonged to his birth family.

Delbrook Academy: Senior Year [ FULL ]

throwing interest, are you still accepting writers?

Edenridge

_{Timestamp: The Tuesday after the Sinclair Vs. Belmonte Collab - near the end of the month}

Coming home from volunteering at the hospital, Niles pulled his motorcycle through the Sinclair driveway. Taking off his helmet, he noticed one of his little sisters speeding through the sidewalk. Carrie came in like Sonic the Hedgehog with her turquoise bicycle. Straight outta' dancing class. Her smile was wide as she sported the cutest jumper outfit. Energetically, she waved at her brother as she zoomed through their yard and dropped her bike on the grass. “What’s got you in a hurry?” He inquired as he got off his own ride, latching his helmet onto it.

“Oh, you know: love!” Carrie clasped her hands together like a Disney Princess and posed in a way like she was singing to the sky. Damn, who ever got his little sister on cloud nine must be a character pulled out out of a rom com. “Come on, Nye! I made mud pie this morning. I think we both should celebrate our victories.”

“Victories?” Following behind his prancing sister, Niles couldn’t help but smile at her playful, young nature. A girl who had yet felt true trauma. If there was one good thing he did, it was protect his sisters from suffering the same things he’s been through. Or at least, prior to him going to college, he spent a lot of his time looking out for them. Things change though, as the clock continued to tick onward. He could see his sisters grow into young women prepared to make their own mistakes. Hell, he still couldn't believe Caroline had a crush on someone, to the point that it made her want to dance around in excitement. What was this? Highschool Musical?

Casually hooking his thumbs in his pockets, he strolled behind her as she spoke with her thoughtful yet theatrical sing-song voice, “Yeah! Victories. I mean at first I thought you and Caitlin were kind of a weird combo, because you’re kinda…"

“Kind of what?” Niles sharply questioned.

“Well… moody, I guess! Anyways, that’s not the point. If she makes you happy, I’m happy for you! Maybe someone soft like me is just what you need.” Carrie slowed down so her brother was beside her. With eagerness, she hooked her arms on his. “If she makes you feel all fuzzy and no matter what you do, she’s all you think of? Then I’m so happy for you!”

Narrowing his eyes at his bubbly blonde sister, he tilted his head, getting more curious at who made her feel these emotions. “What do you even know about love?”

“Oh nothing! But I do know when a feeling is pure, raw, and fun! That's kind of love, don't you think?” She stopped right before they entered the kitchen turning to face her brother, giving him a tight embrace, “Love should come naturally! And if Caitlin is someone who helps you breathe then I fully support you.”

“What Niles has with Caitlin is NOT fucking love!” Another girl called out from the kitchen. Niles and Carrie entered the kitchen together to see quite the tragic scene. Sitting on the island, with her bathrobe on, Autumn had the whole mud pie in her arms and she ate straight from the tray. “You wouldn’t know what love is even if it hit your fucking face.” She shoved her spoon in her mouth, her eyeliner and eye shadow running down her face. It was clear as day that Autumn did not have a fairytale day like the Disney princess did.

Carrie’s mouth dropped in shock, “Hey! I worked hard on that! What are you doing?!”

Shoving another spoon full in her mouth, Autumn rolled her eyes, annoyed as hell, “Eating your pie. You need more Oreos.” Dropping down from the island, she threw it on the island with reckless abandon. Cleaning her spoon off with her tongue, the brunette girl gave her brother the darkest of looks, “You, in love? That makes me laugh.”

The young dancing queen rushed into the kitchen to salvage the rest of her pie. Her sister was such a big meanie. Still, if she did this that only meant… bringing her attention from the mud pie to her sister, Carrie worriedly asked, “Are you okay, Autie?” As she waited for her response, the innocent one of all the Sinclair children started cleaning up after her sister.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Autumn lied through her teeth, shrugging and walking closer to Niles who hadn’t said anything yet. “What’s your motive, Niles? Are you purposely trying to fuck with Natalia? Because you’re fucking stupid if you are. If you’re so mature now, then I think it’s time you grow up. You act like you have your shit together but you’re just playing games, like all you assholes do.”

Shit, this was a lot to unpack. Niles stood there stunned, baffled, and unable to move for a round. Both of his sisters had crushes. That part was obvious. But both were taking it completely differently, and in a weird way, they wanted his advice while they both advised him on his own love life? His sisters were fucking weird. “I have no motives…” He stepped closer to Autumn reaching for her shoulder to provide some sort of comfort.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Autumn jumped back, hissing at her older brother.

“Autie, what happened?” Carrie ran to her sister and her touch was immediately accepted.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Niles cursed under his breath.

Autumn held onto Carrie, possessively, and started pulling her away, “Like you care. Have fun with that stupid bitch. She’s gonna take your crap until it breaks her heart, I just fucking know. You’re a dumbass, Niles, and you’ll never fucking own up to your feelings.” With that, Niles' two sisters disappeared, leaving him with his own thoughts.

Pulling the dining room chair out, Niles collapsed in his seat leaning as far back as he could. Autumn was vicariously taking out her pain onto him, but perhaps she had a lot more truth in her words than he’d like to admit. Taking his phone out, he opened Instagram and went straight to Natalia’s page. Intentionally, he liked her recent picture of herself. It wasn’t like she blocked him. She wanted to be seen by him and now, she got exactly what she wanted. He was looking. Just like what she wanted.

As he scrolled through Natalia’s page, he thought to himself, Carrie’s words resounding in his mind. Love was the person you breathed for. The person that made you feel at home and gave you ‘fuzzy’ feelings. Did he feel that with his ex best friend or did he miss just having her in his life?

Shit.

Tossing his phone on the table, Niles rubbed his temples. His sisters were a lot but they did speak the truth. Niles didn’t know what he wanted. He clung onto the past, Natalia, who knew him better than anyone else did but he also clung to this image he had of his future, and that was Caitlin. Yet, did he want either of them? Or did he just liked getting a rise from them?

Sitting alone, Niles contemplated the past few weeks and acknowledged how horrible he was… Still, it gave him a temporary high. He’d take that over any other feeling. In a sick and sad way, he liked the control he had over women. He wasn’t ready to let go of that feeling. Both Caitlin and Natalia? They had him on his mind. Regardless if they wanted to or not, they thought of him and that feeling was what pushed him forward.

They thought of him.

They needed him.

They loved him.