Unspoken│Roman Godfrey

I. normal

I couldn't remember a single time in my life when I had felt normal.

Truly normal. Like the happy, flourishing seventeen-year-old girl I was supposed to be. Expected to be.

I had always felt there was something off about myself, even when I was younger. A sort of imbalance, invisible to the eye but detectable nonetheless. When I was younger, mind full of innocence and not a care in the world, somehow, I could see things coming.

Not in the obvious way, like sensing a thunderstorm or being watched. I knew exactly what was going to happen before it did. Not every little detail, it would be highly annoying if that were the case. Just the important things, the things that mattered. Whether it came to me in a dream, by touching someone or something, or even an obnoxious voice in the back of my head.

As if that weren't enough, I could feel what others felt, understand them. In a deeper way. How could someone possibly be able to do such things? Exactly, they can't. Which is why I'm convinced that everything I am able to do is merely a coincidence.

I live a relatively normal life. It was just my mom, little sister, and I up until a month ago, when my mom disappeared. Her clothes and passport were missing, too. My sister Indie and I thought she was on a work trip at first, until we called her to discover that her number had been disconnected.

I have hope that she'll come back. She never showed any signs of planning to leave, or even of wanting to.

Indie's sixteen now, as of around a week ago. She doesn't act sixteen. We don't always get along, she has a habit of getting in trouble, which isn't ideal considering we're actively trying to avoid the police finding out about the absence of our mother.

We're fine, though. We will be fine. I turn eighteen in just a few months, when I can become her legal guardian and we won't have to worry about drawing attention to ourselves- which we have a habit of doing.

Besides, I'm not completely alone. I have Indie, I have my friends, I have a boyfriend- my life isn't completely shitty.

My sister and I live in a two-story house in Hemlock Grove, a small, unpleasant town in Pennsylvania.

Like most Hemlock Grove residents, I've done a fair share of research on the so-called murder town in which I reside.

Twenty-six unsolved murder cases in the last 10 years. That must be a record of some sort.

Granted, not all are murder cases. Some are cases of disappearance, suicides, people going insane. But every single one led to a wormhole of deaths surrounding it- take last year for example, according to the internet, a nurse at the Hemlock Grove Psychiatric Hospital jumped off of the roof- seemingly for no reason at all.

I guess that's always the case, though.

Back to Hemlock Grove- a small town in the middle of Pittsburgh, which seemingly hasn't changed since it's construction in 1871. The buildings, streets, people- all the same. Except, of course, the Godfrey Institute- a 492 foot-tall building standing in the center of town, practically laughing in all of our faces as if to call us peasants.

Some say it houses aliens, some say it's just a normal hospital/lab/whatever the hell else they keep at institutions.

Everyone in Hemlock Grove has a different idea of what lives inside the walls of the Godfrey Institute.

This brings me to the Godfreys.

Possibly, no- definitely the richest family in Hemlock Grove. Maybe even in Pittsburgh.

Olivia Godfrey. Despite her beauty, she has the personality of exactly what she is- a snobby, too-rich-for-her-own-good woman. She and my mother went to high school together and were the furthest thing from friends.

Norman Godfrey. The brother of Olivia s dead husband, J.R. A therapist- and a good one, at that. Not nearly as evil as Olivia.

Letha Godfrey. The picture-perfect girl-next-door. Daughter of Norman, and goes to my school.

Shelley Godfrey. Detention of 'don't judge a book by its cover.' One of the sweetest people I've ever met, but people tend to be scared of her due to her insane height and slightly-unsettling exterior appearance.

Finally, Roman. Son of Olivia, brother to Shelley- has slept with nearly every girl in our grade. Absolutely insufferable to be around due to his entitled personality which seems to make him believe every girl ever is trying to get in his pants. Which they usually are. Once asked if he could finger me despite somehow knowing I was on my period.

Tomorrow marks the first day of my senior year at Hemlock Grove High School, and my personal goal for the new year is to distance myself from people like Roman Godfrey as much as humanly possible.

Which may be easier said than done.