𝗗𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗨𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘 𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗨𝗟𝗦𝗘𝗦 | 𝖮𝖡𝖷

𝟬𝟱, the past is a stalker

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗙𝗜𝗩𝗘
episode two

          the discovery of the compass was a mystery that John B insisted meant more. AJ wasn't so sure, but despite any of the pogues opinions he stayed stubborn. His father had always been a touchy subject since he was gone, so in his sureness they all collectively decided to drop the conversation. AJ had never been all that convinced by John B's opinions of his father's disappearance, but she tried supporting him either way. Considering she wasn't around when it happened, she felt as though listening to his ideas was the least she could do. Even if she didn't believe them.

The pogues departed after an eventful day, returning to their homes. As AJ walked back to her grandmother's humble abode, a pit was swirling in her stomach as she prepared herself for her inevitable disappointment. She had avoided speaking to her all day ( breaking the promise she had made to check in every few hours ) and knew to expect nothing good when she stepped through that door. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she followed the gravel pathway through grass adorned by daisies and eventually reached the worn down blue door. After a deep breath, she opened it.

She walked down the small hallway that lead into the living room, her eyes meeting the familiar face of her grandmother, who sat in her floral chair with a steaming mug in her hand. Clenching her jaw, her eyes suddenly noticed the other individual in the living room. Her perfectly curled and highlighted brunette hair laid, like it was being paid, precisely down her shoulders. Not a strand stood out of place, nor a smudge or crease in her make-up. Her eyes glanced upwards, a piercing stare through her sickly sweet smile and honey coloured irises as AJ chewed on the inside of her cheek looking at the woman who raised her. She wasn't too sure how much of a mother she was. But she raised her.

"What are you doing here?" Was her first question, grinding her teeth to cope with the heaviness against her chest she was all too familiar with by now.

"You refused to contact me." Daniella Jones, but most popularly known as the mayor's wife, sat poised beside her grandmother. The Jones woman wasn't related to AJ's grandmother; somehow the sweet woman was the mother of AJ's father, which could baffle anyone who met the man in question. Despite that, her grandmother always made it clear how she cared for AJ, and her son was no longer the most important person in her life. That had always been the case, and for that AJ loved her. However in the current situation of she letting her mother in, she was loving her a little less at the moment. "I want you home, Aven."

"I'm not going back." She responded, shaking her head and twisting her tongue in her mouth.

"I let you stay." Her voice was stern, almost frightening. "I let you stay to cool off and get better. But enough is enough. People are wondering why my daughter isn't living with me." She stood from her seat, her heels causing her to tower over her daughter. Whenever she wasn't in work, she had the classic housewife style. The expensive dresses and perfect posture - all of it. It was the only time she could enjoy what she could afford, otherwise it was work uniform and tied up hair.

Ever since AJ could remember, her mother had an obsession with public image. She cared a lot about the opinions of others, and that only ever got worse with time. Especially after marrying the mayor. And deep down she knew she cared about her children too, but the incessant need clouded any view of love and affection from her after a certain point. AJ had seen her once be exactly what she was meant to be - a mother. But that faded in time when AJ started to become more rebellious after her divorce. Some days she would find herself weighed down by guilt for her actions, and others she wished Daniella Jones would be a mother, not the mayor's wife.

"You can't just come here and force me to go back."

"You're my daughter and you're sixteen. I can make you do whatever I want." She pressed further with a cold tone that haunted AJ. In moments like these, she reminisced on the days her mother would be kinder. When she'd wash her hair and braid it into pigtails, decorate the curls with the flowers from her mother-in-law's shop and give a warm domestic smile to her innocently oblivious daughter beaming back at her. When she'd tuck her into bed and sing to her some kind of Pink Floyd or AC/DC song, warning her of make-believe bedbugs and promising to defeat any monsters under her bed. With time, this angelic woman from AJ's memory had become the cold eyes she glared into now.