𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫, 𝐉𝐉 | 𝐉𝐉 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤

prologue.

P R O L O G U E.

Ottilie Moreau was broken.

Something deep within her broke when her father sat her down and told her he was dying.

It wasn't the first time they has the conversation, he had been dying for most of her life. He'd flip-flop back and forth between having cancer and being in remission. Half of her memories of her father were lived in a hospital, were he was frail and sick. And the other half was living life to the fullest, always going out and doing every activity they could to make up for lost time.

But it would be the last time they would have the all too familiar conversation.

He had fought for so long, he had fought for her. But he was done.

Shortly after the news was broken the Moreau family packed up their stuff and moved to their holiday home. Her father loved that home, he looked forward to each summer as they'd move there, soaking in the sun and laid back nature of the island. Although they hadn't been the year prior due to her father being too immunocomprimised.

The first night there was hard. Well, just about every night since her dad told her he wanted to stop fighting was hard.

She couldn't stop her mind from whirring, it was constantly thinking about her father. So much was frighteningly unknown, and she felt awful that a lot of what she was worried about was inherently selfish. She wondered how she was going to cope with her father dying. How he would miss so many important moments in her life. He wouldn't be there to meet grandchildren, or to walk her down the aisle.

She was never good at coping with things like this, her coping mechanisms consisted of shoving her feels deep, deep down and snorting something to take her out of her own head for a while.

Today she chose the later.

Getting up from her bed she walked over to her wardrobe, which was now fully stocked with her clothes, reaching up to the shelf at the top she pulled out a shoe box. Inside said shoe box was a few momentos, pictures and souvenirs she had collected from various holidays. But underneath all those was a few packets of various things, she wasn't really a weed girl, the smell made it too obvious. She preferred pills - xannys were her favourite but she wouldn't pass up many things.

With shaky hands she took out a bar of xanax, and using the base of her metal drink bottle she began crushing it up. Once it became a fine powder she used a random business card to form lines she had in the box, before pinching off one side of her nose and inhaling it all. Sniffing a few times to get it all down she breathed deeply. Shutting her eyes she already felt relaxed at the thought of the chemicals working their magic.

After the drugs kicked in she quickly realised that was nowhere near enough for her today, she needed to forgot about every aspect of her life for a little.

She needed to not remember tonight.

After burning through most of her stash the girl was finally satisfied with her level of inebration. She laid out on her fluffy bed with an obnoxious amount of throw pillows - her mother loved interior deign a little too much - and then she decided needed to get out the house.

Knowing her parents would still be awake she opted to leave through the window, pulling it open she climbed out.

She knew exactly where she wanted to go.

Her place, as she called it, was somewhere she had never seen another person. It overlooked the water, which wasn't saying much considering most of the island overlooked the water, but the little spot was tranquil.