Lorelei's POV

Lorelei got home. She took the groceries into the kitchen. She looked around.

It was awfully quiet without Grandma Lucinda. She didn't really care about Malcom. She wished he could've died a long time ago. She looked at the time. 12:15. She would be at school right now but Malcom forced her to stay at home. Said that she wouldn't need education either way. Who would want to hire a prostitute to do a man's job.

She held the kitchen table so tight, her knuckles became white. I should've made his death longer and more painful, she thought.

He took her future away. Lucinda always told her that she's still young. She can go back to school again. Maybe I can, she thought. Then she thought of Kyle. Maybe he could get her in. Help her catch up. She didn't want to stay here forever. This place drove her bonkers. She thought of doing everything her grandpa- no. "He wasn't my grandfather", Lorelei said out aloud.

She thought of doing everything Malcom told her not to. She went to their bedroom.

This room looked plain. There was nothing special about it. Lorelei didn't know why she wasn't allowed her. She looked around the room.

It stinks, Lorelei thought, scrunching her nose. She looked under the bed. She saw a wooden box under there. She never saw that. She pulled it from under the bed and placed it on the bed. It was really dusty. She wiped the dust off it before opening the box. Inside it were pictures and news articles.

The world's greatest scientist gone crazy? Read one article. Sweet and innocent local singer on drugs?, read another article. Why would they keep these, Lorelei kept asking herself that question. Then she saw a photo of her as a toddler. She was so happy in the picture.

She was running on a field of flowers, Lucinda on her tail. She smiled. She remembered that wonderful memory. She planned on cherishing it. Under that photo, she saw another one. A woman with big, brown curly hair was cradling a baby. The woman's skin was golden brown. Her eyes were golden like hers. Her lips were almost the colour of sweet pink. Like hers. The woman was standing next to a man. He was pale just like Lorelei. He had hazel eyes and jet black hair. Lorelei's hand instantly went to her hair. The picture was attached to a letter. Lorelei read it aloud.

Dear mom and dad,

We need you to please take care of our daughter. We don't want her growing up in this type of environment and all the drams that is happening. We don't want anything to harm her. We thought she would need clean air and open space to live in. We know you'll love her like your own daughter. Take care of our precious daughter. I don't want anything awful to happen to her. I wish I could see her in the future. And tell Lorelei that we love and miss her everyday.

Love your son
Damon

Lorelei's eyes were filled with tears. She took the box and threw it against the wall. All this time, thinking her parents were probably drunkards who didn't want her. Who they thought was a failed abortion. A mistake in the world. They actually loved her. Wanted her to be with them but due to the circumstances, she couldn't.

Why did they send her to the clutches of an abusive mam who knew what the definition of love was. But then again, the letter was sweet. It showed that Damon didn't know. Her chest felt hollow. She couldn't breathe. She hated this feeling. She ran down the stairs and went to the kitchen. She took a knife and stabbed her thigh.

She screamed, alright. But she preferred physical pain than emotional pain. Spiritual pain. Her pants were starting to get soaked in blood. Her leg felt weak. The knife was still in her thigh. She wasn't ready to take it out yet. She stabbed it even deeper. Sweat started trickling down her forehead. She couldn't even think straight. She felt drowsy. That felt nice. She liked it. She was then disturbed by a knock on the door. "Hello. It's the police. Open up". Shit.