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americanwh0resstuff · 4 months

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God knows I tried

Chapter IV

Paul shifted on Liz's slightly messy couch, watching her walk over with two wine glasses, he looked around, seeing the photographs and papers scattered across the room.

"I'm sorry for the mess..." She motioned to a small printed picture on the table. "I was thinking of blowing that one up for the funeral."

He took the photograph in his hand, an old black and white picture of a young woman, hair in curls blowing in the wind as she sat on the dock, the belle visible behind her. Liz frowned slightly, sitting down next to him and looking at the paper in his hands.

"She was so pretty, when I was a kid people would always tell my friends how they looked like their parents, I never had that, and god do I wish I looked like her..." she trailed off, smiling softly.

Paul lifted his glass, holding it up to her.

"To your mom."

———

A few days passed, it was now Tuesday, the day of her mothers funeral and the day before Ash Wednesday, Liz and Paul had agreed to hold the service today, as her mother loved baking, and today they could celebrate by eating her recipes and sharing happy memories.

Liz got to st Patrick's early, setting up the white roses and lilies, and chrysanthemums, her moms favourite, at least she said, although Liz always had a sneaking suspicion that she only said that cuz they were cheap…

Earlier that morning Sarah had brought the casket in along with some morticians from the mainland, sharing a cup of coffee as Liz watched over her mother, checking to see if her makeup was just the way she wanted, moving loose strands of curls from her face, it was eerie, yet relaxing.

Now it was silent and empty in the sanctuary, she walked up to the open casket, sitting down on the steps in front of it.

“I’m so sorry mom…” she paused “-I should have been here…” The familiar tidal wave of catholic guilt came crashing down, tears threatening to stream down and ruin her makeup.

Guilt for not being there for her mother, guilt that almost everyone in this town was prepping for the funeral in one way or another, Annie, Riley’s mom, had offered to make all of the recipes from the small notes left by her own mom. Erin and Riley were out picking up the printed off memorial cards, and of course, father Paul had been cleaning the church since the early hours of the morning, he’d even left a flask of hot coffee on the front pew with a small note.

“Liz, I hope this brings you at least some comfort,”

He wasn’t there when she arrived, probably trying to give her some space while he prepares for the ceremony.

—————

Now she stood at the doors of the white run down church, the bells tolling above her, deafening.

Father Paul had already greeted her, a calming hand on her shoulder, Liz thought it lingered just a little too long, but she was grieving, obviously overthinking everything.

She stood there, deadpanned, as the congregation pass by, father Paul greeting them one by one

“May the father of mercies be with you, the god of all consolation, be with you.”

After all church goers shuffled in, father Paul motioned for Liz to walk with him to the front pew, watching her take a seat before taking a knee at the steps, then moving to behing the pulpit.

He spoke loud and demanding, yet it simply flew over her head.

“In life, Margaret Bates, cherished the gospel of Christ, may Christ now greet her with these words of eternal life.”

The crowds of mourners respond,

“Come, blessed of my father.”

Elizabeth didn’t even open her mouth.

She sat in silence, not paying attention to the sermon, her eyes were fixed on the large cross behind father Paul, or I guess passed it. It wasn’t until she felt his hand in her shoulder that she snapped out of it.

“Liz, it’s time for your eulogy.”

He shot her a sympathetic smile, taking her hand as she stood up from the pew, letting him lead her to the pulpit.

She cleared her throat, her hands gripping the hard wood before her, legs shaking like jelly as she looked upon the crowd. It took her breath away, such a small community, but the church was full, so much so that the doors were left open, people standing outside to pay their respects.

“I-wow, I just want to thank everyone for coming… my mother was a quiet woman, but I guess she made her mark…” Her eyes shifted across the papers before her, she’d made some notes on key things she wanted to say, but her mind just wandered.

“My mother never had kids of her own, but she took me in, showed me love, took care of me and never made me believe that I couldn’t do anything I set my mind to, she supported me no matter what, pushed me to set my standards high, she told me this island was too small for me, but now looking at everybody here today, I can see that I have all I could need…” She paused, suddenly feeling her stomach drop, feeling all these eyes on her, it was like the air was stagnant.

This was ridiculous, she gave lectures to hundreds of students, taught classes to some of the brightest minds about the most complex theories, but now, just speaking about her own mom, she felt like an ant under a magnifying glass.

She turned her head to see father Paul looking at her, giving her a soft smile.

She took a deep breath.

“Shoot for the stars, worst case scenario, you land on the moon.”

The rest of the speech felt like a blur, her eyes glued to the back of the church as she spoke from the heart, it was only when the lump in her throat became too uncomfortable that she stopped, thanked the congregation and took her seat back in the pews.

As father Paul finished his blessings he encouraged everyone to go to the rec centre, enjoy the home baked goods and share memories, it was time for the burial, and her final wish was to be alone with her daughter, the thought of which made Elizabeth feel guilty and grateful.

#midnight mass fanfiction #midnight mass #father paul #monsignor john pruitt #monsignor pruitt #father paul x original female characters #monsignor Pruitt x original female characters #paul hill fanfiction #father paul hill

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americanwh0resstuff · 7 months

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Snippet: God knows I tried

Snippet: been thinking about this for a while, heavily inspired by fleabag and priest by sierra Simone…

00?

Liz stood awkwardly in the entrance of the sanctuary, the smell of incense and communion wafers stagnant in the air, she wiped her eyes, her mind flashed back to earlier, the crock-pot luck, and that poor dog… the pain in joes voice, the look on everyone’s face…

It was now dark out, the small park had cleared, people were retiring for the night, leaving their dim porch lights on and drawing their curtains.

She didn’t know why, but she stopped at the church on her walk home. Her chest felt heavy, with sadness, with grief, and most of all with guilt.

Her heels clicked as she walked towards the confessional, not even sure if father Paul would be in there, maybe that would be better? What’s more holy than a confession between you and god? Maybe she’d finally feel that connection she’d so long pushed away.

When Liz entered she could see a small glint of candle light through the lattice, what could be a silhouette of a face, but could also be a trick of the light through her blurry eyes.

She sat, not wanting to kneel on the itchy carpeted bench, instead she looked at her feet, played with the hemline of her velvet dress, her Sunday best as her mom would say, pretty yet modest, long sleeved and buttoned up to her neck, yet pretty little cutouts along the thigh. She chuckled to herself, thinking about how proud her mother would be to see her in church.

It was silent in the booth, the only sound being Liz’s small breaths, her heartbeat in her ears until, “Father Paul?”

She heard him chuckle softly.

“Liz-“ He greeted her. “I’m sorry, usually confession should feel anonymous, I was just surprised by your voice… didn’t take you for the confessional type.”

She smiled softly, picking at her chipped nail polish.

“I’ll admit, it’s been a while…” She made the sign of the cross across her chest, taking her mother’s rosary in her hand.

"May God who has enlightened every heart, help you to know your sins and trust in His Mercy."

“Bless me father for I have sinned, it’s been… oh, I don’t know, years? Since my last confession.”

Her teeth worried her chapped lips, half expecting him to scold her for her disinterest in the church, but he didn’t.

“Go on…”

“Envy is a sin right? I know about Saul and David, the jealousy and selfishness, but… I guess I’ve only ever known envy.”

She took a breath.

“When I was a kid, all I wanted was to be normal, have a normal family, a pet dog, a mom who’d make me breakfast every day and a father who’d go to work in some fancy suit every day. I never had that. Then as a teenager, here on crocket island, I’d watch my friends have relationships and dates, and I didn’t… and now…”

Her confidence had been depleted, she was now rushing through her own mind, wondering what the hell was she doing?

“Now I want someone, and I know I can’t have them.”

Paul spoke up. “Is this person married? In a committed relationship?”

“I guess you could say that.”

She sighed, now bouncing her leg with nerves.

“He’s committed for sure, and passionate, professional, and maybe that’s what I like about him, everyone I’ve ever loved has left me, maybe if I find something that’s loyal, committed, the. maybe i can stop running. That’s what I do. I run.”

There was a long pause.

“Just because somebody is committed to something, that doesn’t mean there’s no space in their life for new opportunities, of course I don’t condone tearing relationships apart, but people can be committed to other things, work, routine-“ he stopped. “…religion. If that’s the case, then go for it, if it doesn’t go the way you want it to, find your inner peace, your closure, accept the things you cannot change.”

Liz looked down her feet, there were tears welling in her eyes, she tried to conceal it, but failed as a strained sob escaped her lips.

“I’m sorry, it’s just- I’m so tired.”

She’d always kept her emotions bottled up, never spoke to her parents or her friends about anything deeper than small gossip and crushes or what the passage of the day was, and it had depleted her, it had drained her energy for years, and now the flood gates had opened.

“I’ve always just watched life go by, waited on a fucking miracle to happen, told myself that my time would come, my time to love and be loved, to be proud of my life and who I am…” she could hear shifting through the booth, the muffled sound of fabric brushing against the wooden stools.

“Father?”

She stood up and leaned towards the other side of the confessional, trying to get a better view of father Paul’s place behind the wired window. He wasn’t there

She jumped slightly as the door opened behind her, turning around to see Paul towering over her.

“Forgive me father, for I am going to sin…”

His voice was barely above a whisper as he closed the door behind him, leaning down and taking Liz’s face in his hands, wiping the tears from her cheeks. He leaned in, and she closed the gap.

#midnight mass fanfiction #midnight mass #father paul x original female characters #father paul fanfiction #father paul #father john pruitt #father paul hill #monsignor john pruitt #monsignor pruitt

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americanwh0resstuff · 9 months

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God knows I tried

Chapter III

Word count: 986

003

Liz walked home with a somber smile on her face, she was disappointed and sad that the beloved Monsignor Pruitt wasn't there, but happy that father Paul had welcomed her with open arms, quite literally. Maybe getting tears on the new priest's shirt wasn't the best way to start her day but she had at least made a new friend out of it.

She made her way down the road towards Sarah's house, a burning pit in her stomach as she took her time, not exactly wanting to have this conversation.

She hoped it would be something simple, 'your mother died in her sleep, it was painless, unexpected' yet she had a feeling that wasn't the case, she just hoped she had t suffered.

Sarah opened the door and gave her a sad smile, leading her into the living room, the empty bed where Mrs gunning used to reside now left empty since she passed a few months ago, Liz got the funeral invite but couldn't get the time off work. She sat down in the soft yet old couch as Sarah made coffee for the two of them, the whistle of the kettle breaking Liz's daydream, thousands of worries rushing through her mind.

"Still take two sugars?" Sarah asked, the two were close friends in high school, they bonded over their dreams of getting out of Crockett and getting a degree, they'd spent their time talking about girls and how miss Keane would react if she found out her brightest students didn't exactly follow in the path of god heterosexual plan. "You're bisexual, that's means you could still marry a man!" Elizabeth's mother would say. Supportive yet still traditional, that was Margaret.

"Okay, I don't think there's any point in dancing around this, so I'll be straight with you, you're mother was sick, very sick, and for a long time."

"What do you mean?" Liz was shocked, she called her mom everyday and she never mentioned it.

"She had cancer in afraid, in her lungs, there was nothing we could do, by the time we caught it, well it was too late, I'm so sorry" Sarah looked down at her mug, stirring the teaspoon in her black coffee.

"I don't understand, she would have told me, she should have told me, I would have came back, I could have taken care of her." Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill onto her flushed cheeks. "I'm sorry, I know this is a lot to take in, I tried to convince her to tell you but she refused, I was going to call you myself but I had to keep confidentiality."

At that point Liz stopped listening, her mind going blank as a familiar ringing sounded to her ears.

"I think I need to go." And with that she and Sarah said their goodbyes.

She dragged her feet as she walked home, keeping her eyes glued to the ground, the noises of gravel scraping forming a repetitive rhythm, it was getting dark now and the streets were empty, families sitting down for dinner in there softly lit homes.

"What are you doing out here?" A soft yet commanding voice sounded from behind her, father Paul. "I could ask you the same thing." She still didn't look up from her feet. "Well I thought I'd explore the island a bit more, get to know my surroundings." She nodded, finally looking up at his honey brown eyes, noticing how they glint in the moonlight. "I just got some shocking news and I don't really know how to deal with it, I guess I'm just walking it off." The dark hair man looked off in the distance, nodding in understanding. "If you want to talk about it, I'll happily listen, I've been told I'm a very good listener." He joked.

"How do you deal with knowing somebody you loved suffered for a long time?" This time she could see the understanding in his eyes, the pain of losing someone special.

"I had a sister, when I was a kid, she - she died when I was only 8 when she died and I didn't understand, as I got older I realised-" he looked up at the stars as he took a deep breath. "She suffered, she must have suffered so much, and I didn't even know, I had no idea that the person closest to me was in so much pain, mentally, I could see the physical pain but, as a child you don't see the mental anguish people go through. As a teenager I couldn't stop thinking about how hopeless she must have felt, and I just asked why? Why does god take the ones we love most, that's what lead me to priesthood."

Liz looked up with him through sad eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to overshare." He smiled softly. "No, don't apologise, I'm sorry, that must have been heartbreaking."

Father Paul walked with her all the way home, stopping at the bottom of her porch stairs, she walked up them only to stop at the door. "Do you want to come in for a drink?" He looked around, contemplating what to answer. "You don't have to-"

"Thank you, that would be lovely." He cut her off before climbing the white wooden stairs, the paint chipping more and more with every step.

"Are priests even allowed to drink? I mean when I lived in England as a child the priest would come round to the orphanage and drink but, he wasn't exactly the most orthodox person." She laughed while reaching for the glasses that were slightly too high up for her, luckily the 6'4 priest came to her rescue. "Well as long as we don't black out drunk, I think we're okay." he joked back, placing the two wine glasses on the kitchen table as Liz reached into the liquor cabinet for a bottle.

"White wine okay?"

#midnight mass #midnight mass fanfiction #paul hill fanfiction #father paul fanfiction #father paul #father john pruitt #father paul x original female characters #father paul hill #monsignor john pruitt #monsignor pruitt

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americanwh0resstuff · 9 months

Text

God knows I tried

Chapter II

Word count: 2,244

002

Elizabeth's hands trembled as she watched the tall priest walk back and forth before the altar.

"Now Liz, you know lying is a sin, yet still you continue? Why are you lying to me, young lady?"

His voice was cold and stung like a blade against her.

She grimaced as he retrieved the old wooden yardstick from the altar.

"Hands, up on the table, now."

With one swift whip, he created crimson red lines across her skin, blood pooling into the crevices.

"Miss, can I help you?"

Elizabeth snapped back to the present, looking down at her hands to see that they were in fact not bleeding and it was purely a memory, she'd never forgotten the old father McPherson, or the sisters who once "cared" for her either for that matter.

"Miss?"

"Oh I'm sorry, I guess I'm a bit out of it today."

A chuckle was admitted from the tall and handsome man before her, her eyes lingered to his friendly ones, and then the small scar in his eyebrow.

"Don't worry, we've all been there, it's just, you look troubled, if you don't mind me saying." He was leaning up against the barrier of the breeze, the small ferry from the mainland to Crockett island; a large denim jacket sat on his shoulders and he was wearing a pair of black gloves. Liz smiled softly at him "yeah, I'm fine, just a bit... lost in thought I guess." He nodded.

"What brings you to Crockett? I'm afraid we don't get many visitors around here?" He looked deeply into her eyes, trying to hold the conversation.

"I'm actually going back home, I've had some... news, a family crisis, I didn't have much choice" Liz remained vague, not wanting to dump the dead mum card on a perfect stranger.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I hope everything's okay, if you ever need anything, feel free to ask, I'm the new Sheriff here in Crockett!" He placed his hands on his hips, shoulders back, and looked at her with pride.

She smiled softly at him. "my names Elizabeth, Elizabeth Bates, nice to meet you, Sheriff." She stuck out her hand for him to shake, but he hesitated, looking at her sadly. "Ah, Miss Bates, I'm sorry, I heard about your mother, I only met her a few times, but, she was always friendly." Liz looked down at her feet, a sad smile plastered on her face. "Thank you." she held back her tears as she tried not to think about her poor mother.

Shortly thereafter the ferry docked onshore, the bridge was lowered and people started to shuffle off. "The offer still stands, if you ever need anything..." He trailed off before disappearing into the small crowd.

With her bag flung over her shoulder and a suitcase in hand, Elizabeth dragged her way down the docks and through the island, past the general store, the school, and eventually the church, she stopped and thought about going in to see Monsignor Pruitt, but she decided it would be best to go home and get settled first.

When she reached the quaint one-story house, she could barely hold back her tears as she unlocked the door, a flood of memories coming back to her in an instant, some good, some bad. Memories of the hard times her father would drink too much and take out his anger on her and her mother, or when he'd lock her in her room for "disobeying" him, but also good memories, her mother making her a stack of pancakes every year for her birthday, playing piano in the living room while her parents laughed and danced and everything seemed normal.

Liz collapsed onto the couch, exhaustion taking over as she closed her eyes, jet lag was already kicking in. She didn't rest for long, as only a few moments later, a knock was heard at her door

A woman with big eyes and dark curly hair stood at her door.

"Erin!" Liz beamed, her childhood friend and admittedly, her teenage crush, never failed to make her smile.

"I've missed you so much" she whispered into her hair. "I'm really, really, sorry about your mom" the dark-haired woman gave her a sad smile and stroked her hair as a form of comfort, she knew how to do that, how to calm you down in an instant, either by a touch of your hand or stroke of your hair, she could cure your anxieties in a blink of an eye.

Liz made them some peppermint tea before the two women sat down on the couch, chatting for ages about nothing and everything, Erin told her about Riley's return to the island and how she planned to go to mass later that morning, as it didn't start till 10 am.

"Since when are you so devout?" The blonde joked, reminiscing of times when Erin and herself were the town outcasts, causing trouble every chance they got, often ending up at the sheriff's office or in the church where the old Monsignor would give them a stern but caring speech, she smiled at the memory. "I don't know, littlefoot and I have to repentance to do." she joked

They sat for a while, drinking their tea and reminiscing a little longer before Erin left to get ready for mass. "You sure you don't wanna come? monsignor Pruitt should be back from his trip, you can give him one final heart attack before he finally kicks the can?" They laughed at Erins crude joke. "Don't be rude, he's old, leave him be." Liz said as her friend left for home. She looked up, seeing the church steeple in the distance, she contemplated going, she really did, but she decided to wait till after mass to visit the monsignor, she needed to plan her mothers funeral with him anyways.

Liz decided to shower and change her clothes, she had just been on a 7 hour flight after all, and she didn't want to run into anyone looking like this.

After her shower she dug through her suitcase and picked out a dark red turtleneck, body-con dress and a long black cardigan, she put on her knee high leather boots to keep her legs warm, she also applied minimal makeup, some concealer to cover her dark eye bags, some mascara and a slightly tinted lip balm, just to bring some life back into her face.

She picked up her scarf and the box of PG tips tea that she bought for the Monsignor as she remembered how much he liked his cups of tea and especially English breakfast. Stepping out of the small bungalow she pulled her leather jacket round her thin frame to keep the wind out, the cold, icy air nipped at her face and blew the black scarf over her shoulder and behind her back, there was a storm coming, she could feel it.

The young woman made her way over to the white chapel, tea in hand along with a folder of letters and pictures of her mother, things to use for her funeral.

Her hands shook slightly, a wave of emotions hitting her like a brick and she tried to keep them bottled up, she didn't want to cry, not yet, crying was for at home, with a tub of ice cream or a fresh pot of mac and cheese, not for cold afternoon walks.

Pulling herself together before walking up the church steps, Liz took her scarf off before entering the holy building. "Make sure to take your jacket off so you'll feel the benefit when you leave!" Her mother's voice rang through her head, the advice she'd hear every Sunday morning.

The church was empty, not even Beverly stood there giving her the usual condescending looks, just the silence of an abandoned house of god. She sat down in the first row of pews, taking a moment of reflection and waiting for the old Monsignor to greet her, after all, mass had finished earlier that day and she knew he liked to stick around in the back rooms, organising the church's belongings.

After maybe 5 minutes of waiting and looking at her feet, Elizabeth heard the door open and soft footsteps making their way over. "Hello my dear, can I help you?" She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion before bringing her eyes up to the figure in front of her. The man before her eyes was not the reliable Monsignor Pruitt, instead she saw much younger and slightly taller man, his clerical collar giving his position away. "Um, hi, I'm sorry but I was kinda hoping to see Monsignor Pruitt?" She asked in the nicest way possible, she didn't want to chase the Raven haired man away, but she did of course want to see the man who was so kind to her in her youth. "Oh, well, I'm sorry but I'm afraid the Monsignor isn't here." Her heart sank and her stomach churned. "Oh please no, don't tell me-" He interrupted her "no, no, don't you worry, he's just fine, I'm afraid her fell ill while on his trip to the holy land, he's recovering in a hospital on the mainland but I assure you, there is nothing to worry about!" He smiled softly before gesturing to the empty space next to her, she nodded and he sat.

"Now where are my manners, my names father Paul Hill, I've been sent to take over the congregation for a while. And you must be Elizabeth!" Liz looked up at him once again, a confused look plastered on her face. "The Monsignor spoke very highly of you, said you're not hard to miss." His eyes scanned her clothing, she wore the same dark shades that she wore many years ago as a rebellious teenager. "Really, I don't think 'highly' is the right word." She let out a small laugh, reminiscing of the amount of times they sat just like this, Pruitt giving her stern but caring talks on her 'behavioural issues'. She could always tell that he never wanted to give her these long lectures, but she knew how her parents pleaded with him, and how he was too much of a pushover to ignore their requests.

Father Paul chuckled and shifted in his seat, turning to face her slightly. "Trust me, the Monsignor always cared for you, at least that's what I can tell from the way he speaks of you." He set a soft hand on her shoulder.

"Now, I may not be the person you were searching for, but I'm sure I can still help you all the same." His hand left her shoulder and moved down to his own leg, he watched intently and she fiddled with her fingers. "Yeah, well," she struggled to get her words out, "my mum, she recently... passed, I've come to talk over her funeral plans." The young woman's eyes immediately started watering, but she pushed the strong emotions back. "I'm so sorry for your loss." His hand hesitated for a moment before he softly placed it over hers, only taking it away after she flinched. "Hm, thank you." She said sadly.

The folder full of documents soon opened as they both flicked through the many pictures of her beloved mother, deciding which to use for the wake, reading letters and trying to write her speech. Liz finally spoke up. "I'm sorry, I know priests don't often help with funeral planning, it's just, I was expecting Monsignor Pruitt, I just figured-"

"Its okay, really." He smiled softly before engulfing her hands in his own. He studied her face, watching the tears slowly fall from her eyes. "I'm so sorry, I-" her whimpers were interrupted by him pulling her firmly into his arms, wrapping himself around her. He felt his heart break for the poor girl, losing someone so close to her.

That sat like that for a while, Elizabeth eventually calming down, her breathing coming back to its natural rhythm. Although it was strange to admit, she enjoyed being in this perfect strangers arms, the comforting warmth that radiated from his chest filling her entire body with an indescribable warmth, he felt familiar, like an old friend, someone she could trust, that was something she rarely felt these days

She was the one to pull away first, not wanting to make the poor man even more uncomfortable, he seemed almost hesitant to let her go, but alas he did.

He lifted his hand up to her earrings, touching the small crosses dangling to her jaw. "Are you devout?" He asked carefully. Liz let out something close to a laugh. "No, I um, I wore these a lot as a teenager, you know, the typical goth who wears religious attire, it annoyed Beverly to no end, so I guess it just felt right to wear them again."

He nodded and let his hand fall to his knee once again. "Ah yes, Beverly." They both giggled slightly, looking at each other.

They sat for a while longer, making plans for the funeral that would take place in a few days time. "Please, if you need anything l, feel free to drop by, my door is always open." He smiled at her as they stood up from the pew. She thanked him and started heading towards the door, she stopped for a second.

"Do you like tea?" She held out the box towards him.

#midnight mass #midnight mass fanfiction #paul hill fanfiction #father paul x original female characters #father paul fanfiction #father paul #father john pruitt #monsignor pruitt #monsignor john pruitt

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americanwh0resstuff · 9 months

Text

God knows i tried

Chapter I;

Father Paul/ John Pruitt

This is an old fic that I’ll be picking back up, thought I’d repost the first few chapters on here!

Word count: 1,075

"Father Paul saw her, the embodiment of sin, but she looked like an angel in his eyes"

When the 27 year old Elizabeth Bates returns to her hometown of Crockett after her adoptive mother’s passing, she finds herself strangely drawn to the new priest, despite her tumultuous upbringing.

001

The sound of the house phone ringing startled Elizabeth, to say the least.

It was 2 in the morning in Cambridge and she couldn't sleep, a horrid feeling of dread stinging in her chest. She tried to calm it with some hot camomile tea, but sadly that didn't work, she knew it wouldn't, but god was she jealous of the tea drinkers of the world, the people who could simply sip a mug of hot leaves and calm down.

When the shrill bell of her vintage Bakelite phone rang she practically jumped out of her skin.

Who could possibly call her at this hour?

At first, she wasn't going to answer, she always had a fear of answering the phone, after all, she rarely got any good news when that black contraption rang out.

She hesitated before finally reaching out to the receiver.

"Hello?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you but this is Dr. Sarah Gunning, is there an Elizabeth Bates around?"

There was a soft voice on the phone, one Lizzie recognized.

"Speaking."

"Liz, I'm so sorry, it's your mother..."

After that, she stopped listening, a ringing in her ears as a feeling of pure despair took over her entire body, a feeling she had only felt once before.

"Elizabeth, are you still there?" Sarah asked softly

"Yes I'm sorry, I'll be there as soon as I can." And with that, she put the phone down, staring intently at the kitchen sink in front of her. Soon enough the sadness dropped and rage took over, she slammed her hand down against the hard counter, sobbing to herself loudly.

She felt guilty, she never had the best relationship with her parents, adoptive parents that is. Her father was borderline abusive and her mother, poor Margaret, well she was just broken, quiet, reserved. a stereotypical catholic mother. She rarely visited after moving away for college and she tried to call her every day but failed most of the time.

Her father, James, had passed a few years ago in a work accident, he was the island electrician, one night during a particularly bad storm the power went out, he decided it was a good idea to venture out and fix it, he never returned. As for her mother, she didn't know, Sarah spared her the details, saying she'd explain when she got to the island.

After a few minutes of her breakdowns and shaking, she pulled herself together enough to walk over to her desk and open up her laptop and pull up flights to Massachusetts . Soon enough the blonde haired woman was back upstairs and packing her suitcase for the trip, she managed to get herself a last minute flight at 10am that day.

Her hands shook as she picked up the gold picture frame from her bedside cabinet, it was a picture of her, her mother and Monsignor Pruitt, this was taken at her holy communion, ever the Catholic household. She remembered it like yesterday, her father taking the picture, so proud that he had managed to push his daughter back into the arms of the church after her somewhat questionable upbringing, of course she was christened as a baby, and as a young child she was forced into communion by the nuns in her orphanage, but after the way she was treated, she felt rejected by the Catholic Church , hurt.

Monsignor Pruitt on the other hand, well, he cared more for her than her parents ever could, he took her in during her worst nights, when she went through her rebellious fase and was scared to go home shit faced drunk, he let her stay at the church, when Beverly Keane caught her kissing Jessica Brown, her slightly older classmate, behind the school, he excepted her, told her it was never a sin to love someone, and even when she lost her faith, he always let her in,telling her everyone was welcome in the house of god, even if they didn't believe, he always listened to her complaints and let her cry on his shoulder.

She made a note to visit him while she was there, her mother had mentioned that he was deteriorating quickly after the island discovered his Alzheimer's diagnoses and she wanted to visit him once again before he failed to remember her. She planned on dropping in the church anyways to plan the funeral, and of course he'd be there to lead the service, but she wanted to treat him to a cup of coffee while there.

She pulled the picture from the frame and stuffed it into her bag, it was already 7:30 by now. Elizabeth pulled on a pair black skinny jeans and a hoodie before heading downstairs to put on her knee high combat boots, she never really grew out of her rebellious fase, once a goth, always a goth. Even with a PhD in physics and a great job as a professor at her alma-mater, she still liked to stay true to herself, with dozens of tattoos decorating her skin, and the few piercings she kept, she went for a "hip yet professional" look, always wearing long sleeved suits to work and her only facial jewellery being a small silver ring in her nostril, she definitely still looked the part of the prestigious Cambridge professor, all the while gaining love from her students for not being like traditional teachers.

She adored her job, her life in her small townhouse, all her friends and students, she never once regretted leaving Crockett island till now, feeling saddened by the emptiness now in her heart after her mother's death.

Loading her suitcase into her green Mini Cooper she took off to the airport, it was only a 35 minute drive from her house, so she didn't have to be on the road too much, which was a blessing since she didn't trust herself with the amount of distractions in her mind.

After a tedious hour of check-ins, security, and boarding, she was finally on the plane, she quickly put on her headphones to distract herself from the endless safety announcements that always riddled her with anxieties.

Her hands shook as she reached for her phone, shuffling her music, she then closed her eyes, soon to fall asleep to dreadful nightmares and memories.

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