Set Free // HS ✓

Ten.

Strolling through the grocery store I can't help but chuckle when I think about Harry's 'job offer.' The fact that my cart is full of ramen noodles, and a two-liter of generic diet Coke is proof enough that I can't even manage my own life, much less anybody else's.

Of course, my lack of education doesn't help. My parents don't believe in young ladies going off to college because our only job is to raise children.

I mean, some kind of back up plan would have been really nice. Maybe I could have taken some classes during the day while Oliver was working? But I'm not even 100% confident that my 'high school diploma' issued through my church is legitimate.

The situation that I'm currently in is far from ideal, but I have to keep on reminding myself that it could be worse.

"Okay, it will be $7.35" The cashier says to me with a smile, bringing me out of my thoughts and back into reality.

Waiting for her to finalize my purchase, my eyes land on a piece of crumpled printer paper taped next to the exit:

"Now hiring part-time cashier."

That doesn't sound too bad.

My new schedule at the hotel is very flexible, and it should be easy to arrange a second job.

It's not like I have anything to do in my free time anyway.

"Wh-who, do I um see about applying for a job?" I inquire timidly.

"Oh here you go, doll," she states as she hands me a job application.

"Just fill this out, and bring it back anytime."

"T-thanks."

Things always have a way of working themselves out.

~~~

Still having a few hours of free time before I go to work, I search the internet finding tips on how to sell a car. This is probably something my father or brothers could easily handle for me, but asking them for help isn't an option.

It's not worth listening to them say I told you so.

I see that it's important to have all of my maintenance records available for the buyer to look at. I have a few receipts on my desk, but most of them are inside of Oliver's filing cabinet.

He never let me have a key to get into it because he was very meticulous about how it was organized, and he claimed there was confidential information inside of it. Although he has been gone for a year now, I never had a reason to go through it.

Maybe I shouldn't...

But my documents are in there. I won't look through anything of his.

Slowly I turn the key, open up the bottom drawer, and sift through the folders.

"Wren's Car" is printed at the top of the folder in his doctor like handwriting. I reach in to grab it when I notice another file behind it simply labeled "W."

W? Maybe he had other things of mine saved in here that I must have forgotten about.

Pulling out both folders, I see something heavy fall out of the side of the W file.

What?

Looking at the floor I see that it's an older Android phone, but I don't recognize it. Who did this belong to? I ignore the phone for a moment and peek inside of the folder itself. It appears to be bank statements of some kind, but my name isn't printed at the top.