𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥 | 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

40: 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

- 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 -

My head feels light as I swim in the steam of my hot bath. Three bottles of Bacardi are next to me as I lay down in the bathtub. My body had finally sobered up after a weekend full of drinking and I can't wait to have more.

I'm surprised I haven't gotten alcohol poisoning yet. Ever since I moved out of my parent's house into a penthouse in Los Angeles, my weekends have consisted of straight-up drinking. Bottles, after bottles, I no longer had any morals.

I stood up and dried my body off, sliding my robe onto my body. I walked over to my counter where I stared at the bold eye bags on my face. Mascara clouded my eyes along with the bags and I felt like shit.

My body had changed abnormally too. I stopped eating proper meals and replaced them with weed and alcohol, my mind continued to swarm with terrible thoughts. Those of guilt and those of my father.

On most nights I'd either party or cry myself to sleep. During the day, I'd stay in bed and blame myself for things that are out of control. Today I decided that enough was enough. I had planned to go to my biological father's house in Santa Monica. The house where I witnessed his murder.

He had written me a letter a couple of months before he died and I'd never gotten the courage to read it. I haven't even visited the place since I was fourteen when I attempted to accept his death. I ended up having a panic attack and going back home.

I tried to make myself look presentable for the first time in a while. I applied some lip gloss to my lips and tied my hair in a bun. It was bound to rain during April so I put a small coat on top of my long sleeve crop top and jeans. Scarlett had taken me a few weeks ago to get piercings and convinced me to get a septum. I carefully put the small piece of jewelry in my nose and smiled at the finishing product.

I grabbed my phone and purse, along with a gun and headed for the door. My penthouse is a far drive from Santa Monica so I put on my favourite songs for the drive, trying not to fill my head with terrible thoughts.

━✦❘༻༺❘✦━

After a long drive, full of Frank Ocean I got to my old house. The medium size family home watched me closely. The white paint, surrounding the house starting to chip due to the California weather. It looked so different yet the same.

I got out of my car, took a deep breath and walked over to the giant black door. With the key in my hand, I shakily grasp the doorknob. I twist the key in, receiving the familiar and satisfying sound of an unlocked door.

My heart was pounding as I opened the door. The first thing that got slapped in my face was dusty pictures of my father and I on the wall, and my throat dried.

I tried to ignore the pictures of us and kept walking. But with each step I took, more pictures appeared and eventually, I was looking at a wall full of photos.

I stood in front of it, tears aching to leave my eyes as I took in every photo. I smiled, so brightly and my father looked at me with an unholy amount of adoration. It was now that I realized that we had the same smile.

My teeth were exactly like his, medium-sized and shaped to perfection. We both had large dimples on our cheeks. It hurt me to see how much we've grown alike, and how he isn't even here to witness it.

I decided to save the tears and keep walking, I eventually got to the living room. At this point, my eyes were fighting to keep the tears. After several years I was standing by the place of his death.

My head spun back to my six-year-old self, my pyjamas, the tears in my eyes, the clench in my heart, the fear in my chest as I witnessed my rock take his last breaths.

I felt the first round of tears roll down my cheeks. The hot liquid spilling from my eyes warmed my entire body. I walked passed the couch I sat on as my father got shot, trying to not relive the horrid moment.

I was told by my aunt Monica that his letters were usually by the tv stand. But as I searched, nothing came up. I decided that it was best I come back and pay a visit to my aunt. A part of me believes strongly that she has the letter.

Wiping the spilt tears off my cheeks, I rushed out of the house. I made sure not to look at any of the pictures before I headed out, just to avoid the sob itching to leave my throat.

I walked back into my car and typed in my aunt's address. It was only a ten-minute drive which I was thankful for.

A very short drive after, I parked my car in front of the modern home in front of me. The three sports cars lined at the front brought a small smile to my face. I pressed the doorbell and waited a minute before the door opened by itself. A tall woman older came out, her grey curly hair flowed down her back and smiled back at me.

Her face then dropped immediately and she stood agape. "Naomi?" She rasped, the smile that was once on her face was now replaced with amazement.

I nodded and went up to hug her, "I know it's been a while, auntie." She immediately wrapped her arms around me and spun the both of us.

"Been a while?! My God, I haven't seen you since your high-school graduation! I didn't even know if you were alive or not Naomi." She now gave me an unimpressed look and I sighed in disappointment. She spotted the look on my face and smiled, "I'm not mad, my love. What brings you here anyways?"

I suck in a breath, "aunt Monica, I think I'm ready to read his letter."

Sigh, not edited again