One.

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Chapter one: Dealings with the Devil.


For the next six years, misery was all she knew and yet, she'd grown accustom to the dark feelings and befriended them. They were all she had left, really.

 After declining an offer to return to the dangerous and demanding job, she settled for one at the local diner, scrubbing plates and serving impudent customers who had little respect for the woman's manners and her sickly-sweet plastered on smile that was used to help those who needed some positivity in their lives, but clearly, it didn't change anything. To them, she was nothing but a fly on the wall and she hated reliving the same dead end job every day. It was torture.

Then she found the true meaning of torture, and for what it was worth and the implications it would have on her mental health. Upon working her ass off, ten hour shifts every day whilst wearing a degrading uniform for all to see, her mother upped and left as though her children's lives meant nothing to her. In their trust funds, she'd stolen at least two thousand dollars and fled, taking their hard earned cash to spend it on another.

Margo was angry with her and mad at the world for losing both parents when she needed them the most, though a part of her didn't blame her mother for leaving, considering she'd lost her husband not so long ago and had to stare his remains in the eyes every day despite their efforts to keep her lavish lifestyle afloat.

And, overall else she felt towards the woman, she despised her for leaving Matthew. He needed a positive role model in his life and whilst Margo tried to fulfil the role, their mother needed to be in the picture. Now that she was gone, he had to rely on his older sister of two years and they promised to help each other during the rough times they were battling individually.

While Matthew had taken to drug use, easily disposing of the evidence and keeping a great poker face to hide his tracks, Margo wasn't so elegant in her alcohol addiction. Each night she came through the door, a bottle of liquor in her hand and she'd collapse on their legless couch and drown her sorrows.

It was hard. Almost playing both roles of mother and sister, Margo worked vigorously to make ends meet whilst Matthew had been enrolled into the local college to put himself to good use, considering he was smart and he'd dishonour his father by letting his brain cells go to waste by the drug use.

This metaphorical wall that Margo built around herself thickened. She recalled how ten years ago, she was a timid little girl who could barely lift her head, terrified of meeting the gaze of an intruder. Anxiety clung to her skin like wet clothes and pressed against her chest, causing her to breath to quicken to grasp a breath. Her appearance was rugged and to collect herself out of bed was an absolute struggle, considering school was her worst nightmare.

Now, she was the complete opposite, as though she'd won the war against herself, whether that had been for the better or worse. Whilst she still didn't talk to many people, keeping in mind through her experiences as a Special Forces officer, her paranoia got the best of her and reminded her that she couldn't trust anybody but herself and her brother, sometimes.

She'd encountered a man, not long ago. His attempts to break the barrier fell short upon recognising this woman wouldn't budge. However, with all his might, he made a self righteous leap and found himself close to gaining access. It began with sweet talk in the diner and slipping tips into her apron pocket. It was evident that this woman was on the edge of poverty and he could simply tell by looking into her bloodshot eyes and the scent of damp on her skin. He tried to help her and in the beginning, she refused the tips but after awhile, it fed her addiction and she wordlessly accepted the exchange, raising a smile of thanks but it barely reached her face.

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