— ❝dial drunk.❞

            All day long, Estelle had PJ's words in her head. She hadn't touched a single drug since the summer, and yet it stuck with people. Hazel had skipped her classes for the rest of the day, which was totally out of character for her.

            What this meant, though, was that she was going to have to go home.

            Estelle had walked from Hazel's house to school. She lived on a distance of a 10 minute walk. Estelle's house was further away. Since she had no car, no bike, nothing, she walked. Because of this it was already dark when she arrived at her house.

            As expected, not much had been cleaned yet. Jeff's car had been towed away, or been destroyed, either way, it was gone. Estelle hesitated to open the door. She inhaled deeply, finally opening it after staring at the doorknob a few minutes.

For a minute, it seemed that the house was empty. That was until the heavy footsteps beamed out of the office. Along followed the strict voice.

            "You are late," He said. "I was starting to think you wouldn't come back at all. Too ashamed of what you've done?"

            Father swirled the whiskey around in his glass. Estelle tried not to show any signs that gave her away. "I'm not ashamed of anything. I don't know what you're talking about."

            "No?" He raised his eyebrows. "You don't know anything about the rotting eggs on our windows? Or about the toilet paper on our garden? Or, perhaps, about your brother's car being blown up?"

            Estelle felt her pale skin grow even paler. "No," She said. "I— I mean, I heard about it at school, but—"

            "Oh, cut the crap, girl," His voice became sterner. "Your brother and Tim told me of your stupid club."

            Under her breath, Estelle muttered. "You're stupid."

            "What was that?" His grip on the glass became tighter.

            "Nothing."

            Father wasn't convinced. The next thing Estelle knew, he threw the whiskey at the wall behind her. If she hadn't ducked, at her head. The clattering of the glass sounded shrill in her ears. Estelle turned around to look at the broken down glass with a gaping mouth, but wasn't given much time to think.

            He charged forward, pushing her into a wall. Estelle knew better than to step away now. Father leaped through the hallway, head in his hands, pacing around. He picked up one of the bigger shards of the glass. "Your mother loved you so much," He said, surprisingly calm. "And you did nothing for her. You did nothing for me."

            Estelle's voice was now nothing more than a whimper. "I loved her, too."

            "Then do it." He placed the glass in her hand with a sneer as big as she's seen.

            "What?"

            "You love her so much— You wanna be with her so bad?" His eyes flickered to the glass. "Do it."

            Something in Estelle's mind finally clicked. She knew she wasn't ideal to Father's visions, but this was something entirely different. Her eyes shimmered with pain. "No..." She couldn't look at him. Instead, Estelle held her gaze towards the door. She'd do anything before facing the man she was supposed to call Father now.

            Father took a few steps back, shrugging. "It was your idea." Then, he disappeared into the kitchen.

           ...Breathe in... Breathe out... Stay calm...

            Estelle tried to keep her breathing controlled, but the words tugged at her — they tugged at her throat, the voice stolen from inside of her; they tugged at her heart, playing with the strings that were supposed to keep her alive; they tugged at her limbs, pulling her away.

            And before she knew it... her mind went blank.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

            There was something peculiar to the way humans managed their emotions. Something so... different from one another. Some take to addiction, some avoid their feelings, others simply let them out, go to therapy, become better.

            But there's also a fourth kind — the one that cannot handle the trauma that comes their way. They want to disappear. They want to relieve themselves, and others, of their own life. Or maybe just the pain. Once they're focussed on their physical pain, the emotional pain would sort of fade to the background, right? And sometimes, they don't even know why they do it. It's become a habit. A ritual.

            When this happens, Estelle Morrigan wants to give you one tip: Find your anchor. Sure, it's inspired by a stupid show about teen werewolves, but the advice works for more than that. Any person will need another person to rely on at a certain point. Estelle knew who her anchor was, and it saved her.

            Whenever she was on the verge of losing herself, Ginny Morrigan was alarmed. Ginny Morrigan would always act on the alarm if it meant saving her daughter.

It was her idea to start running. "Whenever you feel like it's gonna happen, you run," She'd say. "But first, I'm putting a tracker on your phone. That way I'll always be able to find you again."

            But this time, there was no Ginny Morrigan. She was dead. And this time, there was no tracker.

Estelle had run until her legs caved in. She was stranded on a lonely road, and all she could see was the forest surrounding her. There were no cars on the road, no lights. Estelle wasn't even sure she was still in Rockbridge Falls.

She grabbed her phone from her pocket, her breaths heavy in her ears, and dialled the number out of old habits. "This number is no longer in service—" The robotic voice said before Estelle angrily pressed to hang up.

There was only one more number she could try. Estelle's hand was shaking from fear, shock — whatever it was. "Hello?"

"Mrs. Callahan? I'm so sorry to bother you at night," Her voice was shaky. "I— I don't know where I am, and I'm really scared."

"Oh, honey, where are you?" Mrs. Callahan's voice came through the phone. "You want me to come?"

"Uh, I see... trees... and there's a road... and that's it. There's nothing more, it's pitch black," She looked to the side of the road. "There's a big sign on the side of the road, the letters are faded, but it's blue."

"Yeah, I know it," She said. "I'll be there in ten minutes, sweetie."

Estelle thanked her. She sat down on the side of the pavement under the only lantern seen in miles, her arms around her knees. She couldn't stop shaking — again, not sure if it was the shock, or was it the cold breeze getting to her?

            After waiting for a few minutes, Mrs. Callahan's car pulled up on the lonely road. Mrs. Callahan jumped out of the car in her bathrobe. She must've been freezing, too. Right behind her ran Hazel, who was picking up speed.

            Mrs. Callahan tightened her arms around the girl. The minute she let loose, Hazel did the same, pulling her even tighter.

            "What happened?" She asked.

            The only sound Estelle could get out for a while was breathing. "I—" She choked on her words, her voice breaking.

            "Let's get you inside the car, warm you up a little, okay, honey?" Mrs. Callahan wouldn't await her answer. The three of them climbed back into the car, where it was warmer. Hazel climbed into the backseat, along with Estelle.

            "I'm really sorry." Estelle said to Mrs. Callahan.

            She turned around in her seat. "Don't be," She replied. "Are you okay?"

            Hazel reached for Estelle's hand, giving her one of her best smiles. Estelle nodded. "My Dad and I had a fight, so I couldn't call him."

            "What about your Mom?" Hazel asked. She tilted her head a little.

            Estelle gulped. "Hazel, my Mom died last summer."

            "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. I had no idea," Melanie said. "Can I ask how?"

Hazel remained silent. She fell back in her seat out of surprise. "Cancer," Estelle replied in the meantime. "Pancreatic cancer."

Mrs. Callahan's face dropped in pity. "No, you don't have to feel sorry for me," Estelle was quick to say when she saw her face. "It's my fault she died in the first place. If I hadn't been so selfish to think I could make money on her medicine, she probably would've lived," Estelle was almost full–on sobbing at this point. "She loved me, and I destroyed her."

Hazel's hand made its way to Estelle's back, rubbing it reassuringly. She scooched closer, to the middle of the car. Melanie only got confused. "Why would high school students buy medication like that?"

"High school students will believe anything you say when it comes to drugs," Estelle sniffed. "I said they were painkillers. They believed they were painkillers, so they became painkillers. Pain is mostly in the mind."

Mel nodded her head slowly. She turned back in her seat, starting up the car. "Well, I'm glad you called me. You know how much stupid shit I did when I was young? Probably way more than you. Hell, I still do stupid shit. Your brother among them."

"Gross," Estelle laughed softly. When Mrs. Callahan started to drive away, she turned to Hazel. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course," She responded, sounding sincere. "That's what girlfriends are for." She wiggled her eyebrows.

Estelle's posture changed. Had she heard that correctly? "Girlfriend?"

"Yeah—" Hazel's voice got stuck in her throat. "A— Are we not—"

"Yes," Estelle interrupted. She closed the space between them, intertwining their arms. "Yes, we are."

Author's Note
i changed the cover, what do you guys think?? i found the old one too dark and it didn't really line up with the book itself so its very light now. pls tell me something about it im desperate

ive been so excited to write this scene but when the moment was finally there i got hit with writers block 😔 not my finest moment. but i think im pretty satisfied