novocaine || pjm

chapter one

"Hello?"

Your cautious knock against the open front door rang out through the old victorian era home.

Your grandmother had always left her front door cracked open for as long as you could remember – you'd imagine to some that might have been strange, but in a town as small as yours, that was just the way it went. Neighbors knew each other intimately, their parents and their parents' parents having grown up together for as long as memory could stretch back.

From peaking inside, you could tell not much had changed about your grandmother's home from when you left town. The same green floral wallpaper was stretching across the living room that you had grown up with. You remembered how you used to run down the halls playing pretend, the walls serving as a forest of green and white columns serving as trees for every one of your adventures.

How far you dreamed of traveling even at a young age, wanting more than your small town could offer.

"Come in, darling! I'll be out in a moment," You heard the familiar voice call out from somewhere in the kitchen, an ache in your chest echoing.

Clutching at the strap over your shoulder, you reentered your childhood home for the first time in years, holding your breath as if a sudden exhale would send it crumbling down on top of you.

"How can I help–"

You watched as your grandmother made her way into the living room, her friendly smile dropping the moment she laid eyes on you. For a moment, no one said a word, the two family members standing across from each other silently, neither wanting to be the first to speak.

It was you, ultimately, who broke the silence.

"I'm sorry." You began, eyes welling as they mirrored your grandmother's.

"How could you?" She breathed, disbelief dripping off of every word.

You gripped your bag tighter, pulling it into your chest as if subconsciously wielding a shield to protect yourself.

"I'm sorry–"

"Four years." She shook her head.

Shame washed over you as your grandmother ran a hand through her hair.

"You left me a note. A damn note saying that you were leaving town and not to look for you. No goodbye. No, this is where I'm going. You just left. Do you know how worried sick I've been for the past four years? I had no idea where you were... if you were safe or even alive!" She continued, tears finally reaching her cheeks.

You felt like you had been punched in the stomach. And what was worse was that you deserved it. Four years ago, you had packed your bags and disappeared that same night, not telling a soul where you were going.

Because you didn't even know where you were going – all you could do was march forward, booking whichever bus would take you furthest away from the town that had taken so much from you.

"And now you're back."

You tried your hardest to keep your composure, swaying from foot to foot unnaturally. There wasn't a day that passed that you didn't think back on to all you had left behind. You hopped from city to city, hoping to find whatever it was that you were searching for.

You were happy. You were. Picking up whatever waitressing job you could. Meeting new people every day. It was precisely the spontaneity you had been craving, changing cities as soon as things started to feel too familiar.

And yet, here you were. Once again, in the one place you'd sworn you would never come back to, wanting the ending to a book you had left open years ago.