Foley, Vermont, 1986.

Odette Grimes and her small family uprooted themselves from their past home in Nebraska after their Uncle was in a freak accident. He was just so close to the family, the guilt for not being there the night he passed gnawed at everyone’s bones, and they couldn’t take the ache in their limbs anymore. They had to get away from there. From the house back on 442 Angelis Drive that seemed to suck up every little piece of negativity and prey down on them for caring too much.

Or perhaps too little. Seemed like the grief would swallow them whole on whatever days it chose. It could come full force on a random Tuesday night, unhinged its jaw, and suck them in, or it could spit them out and leave barely any residue the following morning. It never seemed to stick for hours at a time.

And Vermont was their place of solace; a place to escape to and find a new life to begin, because Nebraska needed to be shoved back in the rearview mirror as far as it could go. It was such a beauty in the Fall, and the entire family relished in that particular season, so why not live their full time and eat up the masterpiece that welcomed them with warm, soft arms?

Everyone gave the newcomers looks. Whether it was a pity ridden look from hearing their past, a look of disgust for how different they looked, or a look of happiness to have someone outside of the small town rush in, it varied, but, they all gave looks, and Isabelle Grimes was frightened for her child.

What kind of mother wanted their child to be the outcast? The answer is none of them, and Isabelle introduced Odette to the neighbors. One of which included you as the daughter of one of the many people living within the small town, a boy name Vincent, and two other girls, Ivory and Dahlia. Ivory and Dahlia were gorgeous, of course.

Dahlia had the perfect soft skin, dark brown curls that framed the freckles over her warm flesh, a smile that felt like the sunlight beaming through the cracks of trees, and Ivory had the fairest of skin with blonde waves that delicately rested over her shoulders; an infectious laughter, but, none of them matched you, and she didn’t quite like how something in her gut brewed at the sight of you.

God, the feeling only grew worse when you two began to dig through her attic to see what the previous owners left, except she found what seemed to be evidence of a previous unsolved murder in her own fucking attic, and you were the only one who didn’t call her insane.

Her favorite girl.