Chapter 1
Marcy stepped out from the jetway and into the crowded airport gate. Headphones secured tightly over her ears, muffling the cacophony of people. The slight sound still came through, sending a pang of annoyance through her as she pushed over to the baggage claim. Pulling her phone out along the way and turning airplane mode off.
No new messages. Of course.
She didn't know why she expected anything different, why she expected her parents to at least care enough to make sure she was okay. Marcy could've died in a horrible airplane crash and they wouldn't even bat an eye, or maybe they'd celebrate. Party cause they were free from their burden of a 'daughter.'
Ding dong the witch is dead. Or some shit. God she needed a cigarette.
Marcy grumbled some incomprehensible sass, her eyebrows furrowed in irritation as she leaned against the dirty airport wall. She stared intently at the baggage claim, pulling off her headphones and letting them rest around her neck. Suppressing a yawn while she waited impatiently for the telltale buzzer of the conveyor belt.
*BZZZ*
She hummed, shoving her phone into her pocket and righting her posture in preparation. Her feet brought her closer to the machine as other passengers flocked over like moths to a flame, staring intently at the conveyor belt, like if they looked away it would swallow their bag.
Suitcases soon came shoving through the weird spaghetti looking black plastic strips. What was the deal with those anyway? Off topic Marcy, you need to be present to get your goddamn bag. She shook her head slightly, focusing back on the clam's entrance.
After a few minutes of bored staring, she soon spotted her worn down, doodle covered black duffel bag. Quickly snatching it up once it got in reach and retreated to the exit. Marcy was giving her duffel bag a once-over when it suddenly hit her, making her feet stubbornly slow to a stop.
She was back in LA. Back where it all started. Where Anne and Sasha likely still are.
She grit her teeth, trying to will her feet to move forward. Cause Marcy didn't have a choice. Her parents had the say in what she does, and they still do, even in another state. She has to rely on them, despite how much she doesn't want to. Where the hell would she go if she didn't? Back to Massachusetts? How?
Her throat bobbed, a sudden invisible obstruction making it hard to breathe. She clenched her fists tightly as emotion suddenly crashed down on her and weighed heavily, her eyes beginning to blur as she choked on her own breath. Her lungs forcing a shaky breath out of her.
No. No, there is absolutely no way she was going to cry in the middle of a crowded fucking airport at 6pm. She was going to suck it up and walk.
Marcy breathed heavily as she forced her feet to move one after the other. Right left right left right left. Keep fucking walking. You're almost outside. Then just call an Ober, have them drive to the corner store nearby the apartment, buy some cigarettes, and walk to the complex. No big deal. You can cry and bitch all you want once you're alone.
She quickly shoved through the airport's doors and dug her phone out of her pocket. Her fingers suddenly clumsy as she desperately moved to the Ober app.
Your Ober will be here in 20 minutes.
Marcy pulled her headphones back over her head, absentmindedly fiddling with the faded stickers on the back of her phone as she switched over to play a shitty Bletris ripoff to pass the time. The blue light reflecting off of her tired eyes as she swiped absentmindedly on the cracked screen of her phone.
-
She startled as a honk suddenly sounded off.
Marcy lifted up her head, spotting a car parked directly in front of her. The stranger rolled their window down, leaning over the car's cup holder to holler out to her.
"Are you Marcy Wu?"
"Ah, uh. Yeah. That's me."
She quickly reopened the Ober app to show them before hopping in. Marcy had already sent them the destination and payment. The car immediately started rolling once she had buckled her seat belt, already heading off with the directions displayed on the car's screen.
"So, what are you doing in LA?"
Marcy internally groaned in annoyance, pulling off her headphones. Great. Absolutely love small talk in a stranger's car. This is gonna be such a fun ride. I swear to God please don't make this more awkward for yourself.
"None of your business."
The car went uncomfortably quiet, the only sound being the directions being voiced and the subtle whir of the heater. WHY DID I SAY THAT?? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME??? Marcy resisted the urge to unlock the car and jump out right then and there.
The stranger didn't bother to talk to her again, so she saved herself the agony and decided to distract herself by scrolling through the internet. Putting her elbow on the arm rest and resting her face on her palm.
--
"We're here, kid. Have a nice night."
Marcy blinked at the stranger before finally comprehending their words, jumping up to leave and offering a quick 'Thanks, you too' Before heading over to the corner store. Feeling the inside of her jacket for her fake ID and grinning triumphantly when she felt her fingers brush over it.
She pulled up her hood before pushing the door open and sauntering over to the counter. She still had some cash saved that her parents didn't know about, so she could feed her addiction for a solid while.
"Two packs of the cheapest cigarettes and a lighter."
"Alright whatever."
The cashier was a tired looking brunette a few years older than her, who ended up not even bothering to ask for ID. Simply ringing them up and telling her the total. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all.
"That'll be $24.45 ma'am."
Sheesh, these things weren't cheap though that's for sure. Guess that's just LA for you. Marcy handed the cashier a twenty and a five before grabbing the two boxes and heading out, tapping them against her thigh a few times before opening up the pack. Marcy tested the lighter before lighting a cigarette and breathing it in.
She felt herself relax immediately, feeling the nicotine kick in as she walked with her phone displaying the directions.
-
She looked up at the slightly run down building in front of her. This was it. She was on floor 3, room 126. Marcy headed to the small front room with a reception desk, showing her authorization and gaining the key to her apartment before heading up the outdoor stairs. Which creaked with every step she made up to her floor.
Marcy struggled to find her apartment number for a few minutes too long before stumbling onto it.
She stared at the door, the scratched plate reflecting her face. She slowly pulled out the key. Her hands shook slightly as she turned it and heard the soft click of it unlocking. Gently pushing past the door and walking around her new 'home.' Marcy set her bag down by the bed before shucking off her jacket lazily.
Her body hit the cheap bed with a dull thud and a few creaks as she flipped over to face the ceiling.
Marcy felt numb. Staring up at the ceiling blankly with her hands rested at her sides. She suddenly moved her hand to pull on the string of her necklace, lifting it up over her head and watching the object dangling from it sway slightly.
It was a green hair clip, with a folded up polaroid photo clipped between the plastic.
She gazed intently at it for a few moments before reaching her hand out to gently touch it. Her eyes suddenly became blurry with unshed tears as she continued to look at it. A small, choked puff of air escaping past her tightly shut lips. Her hands began to shake again as she refused to take her eyes off of the little trinket.
First you block them and avoid them like the plague, and now you're crying over them. Make up your fucking mind. It's pathetic.
She gripped the string tightly as she used her forearm to wipe away her tears, turning over on her side and holding it to her chest as she closed her eyes. She wouldn't sleep. She knew that. But that didn't stop her from at least trying, at least pretending.
She never lessened her grip throughout the entire night.