#you know north dakota will pull out their birth certificates with their time of birth circled in green to show people he's older

[firsttraintovictoriaville]

I love how we all agree that West Virginia has little brother energy and that South Carolina has big brother energy but does anyone else think that South Dakota has “We’re twins, it doesn’t matter” energy and North Dakota has “ME!” energy if they are ever asked who is the older twin?

[kingswriting]

30 Day Writing Challenge - Day 3.

Day 3: Find a one sentence prompt from tumblr or pinterest and write a piece about it. Length doesn’t matter. [ For this one, the prompt was the first line! ]

He was heading back to the one place he hoped he’d never have to see again. 

He hadn’t seen the Edgemont Lane house in years. Seven years, to be precise. Neither had Beau. He could see it in her eyes that she wasn’t happy to be back. Gideon had already taken a step forward, but Beau couldn’t. It was as if her boots were frozen to the ice. 

“Hey. It’ll be okay,” Gideon said, reaching a hand out to her. 

Beau looked upon him with giant, pleading blue eyes. Blue eyes that had gotten her out of trouble so many times in this exact house. “I feel like… if  we walk in, she’s going to be right there,” she said quietly. “Like, I know in my head that she won’t be, but….” 

Her voice trailed off weakly, and Gideon sighed. He turned back to her, taking both of her smaller hands in his. “She can’t be,” he said. He couldn’t tell if he was trying to reassure her or if he was trying to reassure himself. “We’re going in and out, that’s it. We don’t even need to be in there for more than a few minutes.” 

“Right, right,” Beau nodded, and Gideon could feel her shaking. Her plump cheeks were bright pink and wind-whipped. This was the one thing that Gideon couldn’t protect her from. “...Can you go first, G?” 

“Yeah,” Gideon nodded, dropping her gloved hands. He wasn’t sure that he was ready to walk in himself. He raked his fingers through his disheveled bubblegum pink locks and walked up the porch steps. They groaned under his weight, just like they had when he was a kid. His mom had never been good at upkeep of the house - much as she loved to laud herself as an exemplary mother, she wasn’t much of a textbook housewife. 

Beau at his tail, Gideon pushed open the door. 

The house felt lived in. It hadn’t felt like this when he lived here. It felt warm and cozy, despite the cold North Dakota air seeping in through the cracks. The electricity had been off for a while, and no one had lived here in months. He knew that reasonably. Even his mom’s husband had disappeared somewhere after she died. Gideon didn’t know where, but he didn’t really want to know either. 

“Still a mess,” Beau snorted, shoving her hands into the pockets of her puffy coat. “It’ll take us ages to find anything in here.” 

So much for in and out in a few minutes. Gideon sighed. “Yep.” He glanced back at Beau. “Should we… go up to our old room? For old time’s sake?”

“Sure.” Beau led Gideon up the stairs, and he couldn’t help but notice that the pictures that lined the walls had been replaced. Gone were the cheerful pictures of little Beau and little Gideon on Santa’s lap in the Ridgepoint Mall. None of the weirdly forced pictures of the two of them in some photo studio. The only pictures the walls knew now were pictures of Kimmy and Sara-Beth. The new kids. 

Kimmy and Sara-Beth couldn’t have been more different than Gideon and Beau. Beau was a big baby, with rolls upon rolls that their mom loved to squeeze. She had cheeks for days, which she never really grew out of. Children being fat stopped being endearing after the age of 3, apparently. Their mom never really left Beau alone about her weight. Kimmy and Sara-Beth were twigs of girls; they couldn’t be more than about thirteen. Their toothy grins and shocks of red hair repeated themselves as Gideon made his way up the stairs. 

Beau reached the top before Gideon, and she stood at the door of their bedroom. It was already open. “I don’t know why I thought….” Her voice trailed off, thick with tears. 

Their room had been transformed into Kimmy and Sara-Beth’s room. The mural that Gideon and Beau had painted together was painted over. Little handprints dotted the walls. He supposed that his mom had allowed the new girls the same artistic freedom Gideon and Beau had gotten. “They’re way worse artists than us,” Gideon said in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

But Beau only tensed up under his words. “She erased us really easily. It’s like… we didn’t exist anymore,” she said quietly. “Our stuff probably isn’t even here anymore. Maybe she really did throw it out onto the street.” 

Gideon shuddered. “Think she still has that folder? The pink one?” 

“If she did, I’ll bet Jeremy has it now,” Beau said. “Should we take a look in her room?” 

Gideon hated the idea of going into her room. She and Jeremy were much of the impression that kids were only to be in their room in the case of emergencies. But if they were to get any of their things back, this was the only way to do it. “Yeah… I guess we should.” 

Their mother’s room was across the hallway from theirs. Gideon still felt as if he were committing a crime when he turned the doorknob. 

Her scent clung to the air, and Gideon felt as if he might pass out. He shut the door behind Beau a little too loudly, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Beau clamp a hand across her mouth. Neither of them spoke for at least a minute. Gideon tried to find the words, but they wouldn’t come out. 

“Her folder was in the closet,” Beau finally muttered, crossing the room, past the California King sized bed, and opened the door to their mom’s closet. 

Beau had changed a lot in the last few years. Teenagehood had been hard on her, mainly thanks to their mom. But as a now 21 year old, she was blossoming. She was starting to come out of her shell, something that neither Gideon nor Beau thought she would ever do. The fatphobia that had been instilled in her for as long as she could remember was starting to melt away, and Gideon could see it. If there was anyone in the world who deserved to love herself just the way she was, it was Beau. 

Gideon followed Beau, and sure enough, the pink, plastic folder sat atop the shelf in the closet. The Important Stuff Folder, their mom would say. Maybe it wasn’t the safest thing to do, to keep all of everyone’s important documents in one folder, but it was Gideon and Beau’s saving grace for the moment. 

Beau leafed through it. “Most of it belongs to Kimmy and Sara-Beth. Did you know Kimmy’s middle name is Cheryl? Ew,” Beau said, wrinkling her nose. “And Sara-Beth’s middle name is Opal. Sara-Beth Opal Montgomery. She has way too many names. Do you think they know their birth certificates are still here?” 

“I’m sure they have other copies,” Gideon murmured. But his mind wasn’t on Kimmy and Sara-Beth. It was preoccupied with dreading the second that his own birth certificate would appear before him. His heart pounded dully against his ribcage, and he knew the moment Beau’s fingers stilled on the pages that she had found it. 

“I mean, do you really want this? Like, surely it doesn’t do you any good anymore, right?” Beau asked. 

The name stared back at Gideon, as if daring him to do something about it. “I just don’t want her to have it anymore,” he said. But he couldn’t bring himself to pull it from Beau’s hands. “I know she can’t really do anything with it anymore, but….” 

“I get it.” Beau pulled it from the folder, as well as a second one - her own, presumably - and tucked them into her jacket. “It feels kinda nice to know that there’s nothing she can hold over our heads anymore.” 

“Also that she’s too dead to hold anything over our heads anymore,” Gideon grinned, and Beau laughed. She wrapped her arms around her brother’s thin torso, head coming to rest on his chest. He planted a kiss atop her blonde head. “We’re gonna be okay, you know.” 

“Yeah, we are,” Beau said. It sounded like she believed it, too. 

[letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked]

New Beginnings (Part 3)

Frank Adler X Annie O’Hara

A/N: I am really enjoying this series and have a lot of plans for it! Stay tuned!

Warnings: Angst. Talks of stalking. Swearing. All that.

Main Masterlist // Series Masterlist

  Not again.

Annie’s eyes pricked with tears, heart hammering in her chest as she remembered when she was told about her parents accident. “Is he alive?” She whispered, a tear streaming down her face as she fought for control of her breath. “Grace. Is Gavin alive?”

“I don’t know.” She sobbed. God, Annie wished that she was in North Dakota to give the poor girl a hug and comfort her. Not across the fucking country. “I got a call from the hospital fifteen minutes ago. I just- I just got here, and no one will tell me anything. They made me sit in a- a room and wait.” She heard the sound of Grace blowing her nose for a moment, “I couldn’t just… sit in here, by myself. I needed to talk to somebody.”

“Keep me on the phone when the doctor comes in, okay?” Annie replied, taking a deep breath through her nose - exhaling it out, slowly. “I want to know what they say.”

“I will.” She croaked, breaking Annie’s heart. She could hear the panic in Grace’s trembling breaths, as the frequency of her breaths increased dramatically. “I just… I don’t…”

“Honey, breathe, okay?” Annie ordered, concern squeezing her chest like a stress ball, “Inhale. Five seconds. Through your nose. Now.” She heard Grace comply, the sound being the only thing she could hear through the phone. “Now hold it for a moment… Good, good. Okay, now blow it through your mouth for seven seconds.” She counted aloud, guiding Grace along so she didn’t send herself into a panic attack. “Keep going, sweetheart, you’re doing great. One more.”

Annie hopped off the couch, jogging to her kitchen and digging through the junk drawer by the back door, where she kept her emergency smokes and ash tray. She wasn’t a usual smoker, but… She needed to remain fucking calm, so Grace wasn’t a mess when the doctors came to talk to her.

Focusing on smoking, versus focusing on her impending panic attack… seemed like the better option, at the time.

She was absolutely fucking terrified that she was going to lose yet another family member to a car accident… and she didn’t want to find out when she was across the country from Grace and her brother.

Throwing open the door, hands full, she stepped out into the sun – thankful that the hot sun warmed her chilled bones – and plopped down onto her cement steps. No one was out in their yards, anymore, so it was nice for her to get a little bit of privacy. She wanted to hear from the doctors before she told anyone – like Roberta, or Dorothy, the elderly neighbor who baked a lot of banana bread – what was going on.

That way, she could gather her damn wits.

“Where’s Elena?” Grace finally asked, as Annie pulled a smoke from the pack with a trembling hand. “How is she? Gavin showed me the picture you sent him, yesterday, of her and the blonde little girl.”

“Elena’s taking a nap. Her little tired butt needed it.” Annie’s lips lifted in a small smile, as she stuck the filter in her mouth, lighting the other end with a long inhale – nicotine rushing into her system, “Also, the little girl in the photo… that’s Mary. She’s one of the neighbors. She’s cute. Smart as shit, too.” Annie blew the rest of the smoke into the air, thankful that there was a slight breeze to carry it away. “Elena loves her, already.”

“Sounds like you do, too.” Grace chuckled, voice starting to sound a little lighter over the phone. Though, Annie was pretty sure Grace was just trying to stay positive in the shitty situation they were stuck in. The small talk was something to pass the time until the doctors came, and Annie was more than willing to oblige her. “Who was the hot guy in the background of the photo?”

“I can see where your mind is going, and I’m gunna’ have to tell you to shut your damn mouth.” Annie chuckled, breathing in another drag of smoke and blowing it in the breeze – watching it dissipate as it wafted further away. “Anyways, that’s her uncle. Frank. He’s her guardian. We kind of got off on the wrong foot, but he felt bad and apologized. He’s the guy who helped me get the furniture in the house, so I didn’t have to hire anyone.”

“That… sounds like the beginning of a bad porn.”

“No! You’re awful!” Annie laughed, stubbing out the short smoke – grabbing the little monitor to check on Elena. Thankfully, she was still asleep. “He’s a nice guy, though. Loves that girl to death.”

“By the way, I’ve been meaning to give you shit about this for a while, now.” Her voice was laced with humor, and Annie rolled her eyes – knowing exactly what was coming. “A pink house? Pink? Like… Barbie pink? Why?”

“Shut up! It was the first one I found that was reasonably priced, but not a dump.” Annie defended, scoffing at her. “It’s cute… like a Barbie house.”

“It looks like a trash version of a Barbie dream house.” Grace laughed loudly, making Annie smile. “And the other houses! They’re no better! Yellow? Baby blue? Green?”

“They’re eclectic!” Annie grinned, looking back at her pink house with pride. “I happen to think it’s cute.”

“You were always a little strange…” Grace’s laugh cut off suddenly, and Annie could hear voices from the other end of the phone – causing her to straighten her back in anticipation. “Annie, the doctors are here. I’m gunna’ put the phone on speaker, okay?”

“Sounds good.” Annie gulped, lighting another smoke with shaking hands. She waited to talk, while the doctor was introducing themselves to Grace. “So… is Gavin alive?”

“Yes, he’s alive.” Annie heard a man’s voice from over the line, as her shoulders sagged in relief. “You’re the sister? Annie? I’m Doctor Roberts. I’m the one who treated your brother.”

“Yeah. I am.” Annie let out a small sigh, watching the curls of smoke from the cherry of the cigarette. Her hand was starting to tremble. “How hurt is he?”

“He’s sustained a few injuries.” He informed them, and Annie heard the flipping of pages over the line. “He has a concussion, so we want to monitor him overnight. Along with some bruised ribs, a fractured arm, a dislocated shoulder, and some whiplash from the accident. Plus, some cuts and bruises from the airbags. Once we monitor him overnight, he’s free to go.”

Before Annie could stop herself, she let out a sob of relief – closing her eyes as the tears she’d been holding back rushed down her face. “That’s… a lot better than I was expecting.”

“Sorry, it’s just… we’ve already had deaths in the family from a car accident.” She heard Grace’s hoarse voice inform him. “Do… we know what caused the accident?”

“Well…” The doctor’s voice tensed, leaving a pit in Annie’s stomach. “I’m going to have to let the investigator tell you the details… but… I heard that his brakes had been tampered with.”

“What?!” Annie shrieked, eyes flying open in shock. She caught movement in the corner of her eye, and saw Frank standing by his truck, glancing over confused. “What do you mean ‘tampered with’? Someone caused the accident?”

“Whatthefuck…” She heard Grace whisper under her breath.

“Unfortunately, that’s all I know.” He replied, and she heard the squeak of a door over the line, as the doctor began to leave. “The investigator is in with him, now, if you want me to take you to him.”

“Yes, please.” Grace said, quickly, and Annie heard shuffling as Grace gathered her things. “Can I bring the phone in with me?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“That’s okay, Grace. Find out all you can, and call me back, okay?” Annie replied with a sniff, swiping a stray hair away from her face and taking a hard puff off her smoke.

“I will.” Grace sniffled, which put a lump in Annie’s throat. “I love you, okay? I’ll call as soon as I know.”

“Love you, too, sweetheart.” Another tear fell from Annie’s eye, as she heard footsteps close to her. She glanced over, as Frank walked up to where she was sitting – holding up two beers. Annie gave him a small smile, patting the step next to her as she switched hands, so the cigarette wasn’t in Frank’s face. “Call your mom, too, okay? Have her get you some things and bring them to the hospital. Gavin’s birth certificate and insurance information is in the safe. Let me know if you need anything.”

As the girls hung up, Annie placed her phone gently on the step – glancing at a sleeping Elena on the baby monitor with shaking hands.

It was quiet as Frank opened the two beer bottles with a pop.

She glanced over at him, taking the cold beer with a nod of thanks as he took a sip of his own. Pulling her legs up to her chest, she took a small sip of the bitter beer, the cold liquid cooling her throat. She wiped her face, fingers faintly smelling like Marlboros, and pushing that single, pesky flyaway hair – that kept escaping her stupid bun – back into place.

The silence was nice, as Annie’s mind was going fucking wild. She kept picturing Gavin under a sheet, like she’d seen her parents when she’d had to identify the bodies. She imagined the bulky outline, the stillness, the cold… It was something that she’d always tried to push to the depths of her mind, locking it away in a safe to never be seen again. Seeing the pale, bruised faces of her dead parents was something that would never leave her. Ever.

That didn’t mean that it didn’t randomly escape – seeping through the confines of the metaphorical safe, and completely fucking with her compartmentalization.

Gavin was supposed to be the safe one.

She was supposed to out-live her little brother, and he was supposed to be the one who didn’t have bad shit happen to him.

He’s alive. He’s going to be okay. It’s only minor injuries.

It could’ve been so much worse.

He’s okay.

She repeated the last phrase in her mind – over and over again – until the image morphed into Gavin sitting in a hospital bed, holding his girlfriend’s hand and assuring her that he was alright.

…But she still wasn’t there.

“My brother was in an accident.” She finally croaked out, taking a large gulp from the cold bottle. “His brakes were tampered with.”

“I heard that part.” He replied, voice quiet. His face was sympathetic, as he scratched at his beard and turned to watch her. “He okay?”

“As okay as he can be.” Her voice broke, tears welling up in her eyes and fighting to spill over. “His girlfriend called me. We-” She sucked in a trembling breath, the tears winning the fight and streaking down her damp cheeks. “We didn’t know if he was alive, for a moment, there.” Her tears dripped off her chin, and she quickly tried to swipe them away with her free hand – embarrassed that she was crying in front of her cute neighbor. “He’s… he’s such a good kid. Who would fucking tamper with his brakes?”

“I’m sorry.” Frank murmured, breathing out a sigh of sympathy.

He reached out a hesitant hand, slowly grasping Annie’s free, trembling hand in his warm one. The temperature difference was startling, but she welcomed the warmth – though she continued to stare out at the grass, watching it rustle in the slight breeze. Tears blurred the scene – muddling the different greens together – and she blinked them away, focusing on the feeling of Frank’s warm hand and each tear sliding down her cheeks.

How could this happen? Gavin was one of the most charismatic, nice guys she’d ever encountered. He took after their father. There was no way that he would have upset someone so badly that they would attempt to seriously hurt – or kill – him. He was the type of guy that would have drove someone to… that…

Oh god.

What if…

“Oh, no.” Annie sighed, placing her bottle down on the concrete step and covering her face with the chilled hand. “It… oh no.”

“What?” Frank asked, squeezing her hand gently, as she lowered her covered face to her knees. “What is it?”

“It’s me. It has to be.”

“I don’t follow.” He replied, confused, “How is it you?”

“It’s him.” She whispered, connecting the dots. Having Gavin in an accident the same day that she received the letter? It had to be connected. It had to be. There was no way it wasn’t connected. It wasn’t just coincidental. “Holy fuck. Oh, no.”

“Who?”

Clearing her throat, Annie forced back a wave of nausea, which was a regular feeling when she thought about the psycho that was – for some reason – obsessed with her. “It… it started back in high school…” She began, before spilling her entire guts out to Frank.

She told him about the flowers, the letters, the gifts… everything. She told him about the note she’d received that very same day, bringing in a whole new wave of fear at the possibility of this person never leaving her alone. Then, not even an hour later, she received the call about Gavin. It was too much of a coincidence. Too much. “What if… what if he never leaves me alone? What if I’m stuck with this person, one who I don’t even know, for the rest of my life?”

“You’ve talked to the police?” He asked, having turned to face her, dark brows pulled together in concern. “Have you notified the police here?”

“What are they going to do that the police in Minnesota couldn’t?” She finished the last of her beer, which had started to get warm from sitting in the sun. Setting the empty bottle down next to her ash tray, she laid her head back in her lap. “This… this is all my fault.”

“That’s not true. Not in the slightest.” He scoffed, tightening his hand around hers, “It’s his. You aren’t the blame in this.”

She had to admit… talking to Frank made her feel a bit better. She was prepared to shoulder all this on her own – not wanting to worry Gavin or Gracie – but having someone to talk to helped tremendously. It was as if being able to talk about it lifted a large weight off her shoulders, freeing her from the ever-growing headache that she was getting from this person.

She never talked about it, unless it was someone she was close to. It was nice to have someone new to talk with, because she felt like a broken record to the people who were already aware of the situation.

It couldn’t be the only thing people would associate her with. She wouldn’t allow it.

She slowly blew out a breath, as if she was still smoking a cigarette, and turned to Frank – meeting his light eyes, that were soft with concern. “Thank you, Frank. Honestly. You kinda’ saved me from a stress-induced headache, or panic attack.”

“I’m a regular hero.” He chuckled, eyes crinkling as he smiled – showing off his straight, white teeth. “Thanks for watching Mary, this morning.”

“No problemo.” She grinned, picking up the monitor to make sure Elena was still sleeping. “Anyways, she’s a good kid. I like talking to her. Sometimes I forget that she’s only an eight year old.” Annie shook her head, laughing, “You know she offered to do my taxes in the spring. For free, nonetheless.”

He laughed loudly, shoulders shaking with each laugh, “Roberta buys her one book and suddenly she’s a tax expert.”

His laugh was infectious, and it was nice to see him smile. His smiles were usually reserved for Mary, and sometimes Roberta. It was cute. His light blue eyes crinkled in the corners, and his entire face lit up. His pink lips were pulled up, over his perfectly white teeth and she admired the way his tanned skin was glowing in the afternoon sun. Annie found herself admiring him for a little too long, which he – thankfully – didn’t notice.

She giggled along with him, turning her head and noticing Roberta peeking through her curtains. “So, where is Mary?”

“Roberta’s.” He replied, brushing his free hand through his tousled hair – reminding Annie that she was still holding his hand, and that this thumb was absentmindedly brushing against her knuckles. “We’re having a big dinner, if you’re interested in joining us? Roberta wouldn’t mind.”

“I might just take you up on that offer.” She grinned, heart fluttering in her chest. Stop that, heart. No. Knock it off. Stop blushing, Annie! “I’ll make some dessert. I’ve been meaning to start baking again.”

“You like to bake?”

“I like to bake and cook… all that jazz.” She shrugged, swiping at the annoying stray hair, again. “My mom and I used to hang out in the kitchen, all the time.” She cleared her throat, awkwardly, realizing that she’d just brought her dead mother into a conversation. “My… my dad used to complain that we were making him fat. Said he needed to start working out, again. So, we started doing bake sales and throwing dinner parties, to compensate.”

“Sounds like you had a great relationship with your parents.” He had a small smile on his face, but his eyes were suddenly far away. “Must have been nice.”

“It was.” She squeezed his hand, gently, glancing over at him for a moment before noticing that both Roberta and Mary were creeping from Roberta’s window. She didn’t want to overstep, so she didn’t say anything about what Mary had told her about the court case, or Frank’s sister. “They’re creeping on us from the window.”

“What?” He jumped up, gently pulling his hand from hers before glancing at Roberta’s house. “Oh. Great.”

The skin of Annie’s hand tingled, and she immediately missed the warmth and comfort of his hand. Stop it, Annie. “They’ve been watching for at least five minutes… probably wondering what I was freaking out about.”

“Are you okay?” He turned to her with soft eyes. She didn’t miss the way that his hand twitched towards hers before he shoved them in his pockets. “You can – you know, if you need to – you can come to me if you need someone to talk to.”

“Thanks, Frank.” She stood, shooting him a small smile before picking up the empty bottles and tossing them in the recycling bin by the door. She really needed to find a spot for that. “You – you, too… I mean… If you need it, you know. You’re… always welcome. If the lights are on, all you gotta’ do is knock.”

He raised an eyebrow, as she completely stuttered through that sentence – and she cursed herself, internally. “Your accent was really thick, there. Canada, right?” He grinned, fully freaking knowing where the heck Annie was from.

“Minnesota!” She groaned, rolling her eyes and gathering her items off the steps. “Says the guy with the Boston accent. You make khakis and car keys sound the same, fool.”

“Minnesooooooooo-da.” He mocked, casually walking towards Roberta’s, snickering to himself.

“You’re hilarious.” She grumbled to herself, blush warming her cheeks and neck. “See you later, Frank.”

When Annie entered her home, she slammed the doors closed, tossing her items onto the counter with a small groan. Shit. She leaned against the wall, sliding down so she was sitting on the floor with her head in her hands. “This isn’t good.” She whispered to herself, banging her head against the wall in frustration. “Ow…”

Flashes of Frank laughing played behind her closed eyes, and her knuckles tingled from the memory of his thumb brushing across the skin. She felt a flutter in her stomach, and she sighed – loudly – leaning her head back against the wall and staring at her cupboards in disdain. She couldn’t feel all fluttery. She just got out of a relationship with Lance. She just moved to Florida.

She just…

Dammit.

She had the hots for Frank.

Part 4

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