a place we know| ✓

sixty two

"And find a place where every single thing you see tells you to stay."
S E E K E R
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February 17th
6:21 PM
New York
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Gunner was yet to return home, Audrey had picked Leah up from school earlier in the afternoon, and while the apartment was comfortingly quiet, her mind was a blizzard of half-formed thoughts as the tip of her pen hovered over a blank piece of paper.

She had written three names and one address in the past hour, waiting for the rest of the letter to flow.

The strange habit of writing unposted letters formed when Audrey's mother had explicitly disowned her once she learned of her pregnancy and the boyfriend she managed to keep well hidden from the whole family. The first was composed a week after she left home, the second a month later, then many more that she hid in an old shoebox in the back of her closet. Even Gunner didn't know about them.

She had been rummaging through a few of her belongings before she stumbled upon the sealed box, holding memories in the hundreds and moments of her growth. From a teenage girl, to a teenage mother, to the woman she was proud to be.

The letters slipped her mind amidst the predicament she was facing with Gunner, but discovering the dust-covered box set off sparks of sadness and rage. Audrey believed she had moved on from the people who betrayed her–her own mother and father–yet somewhere inside she ached to be a part of their lives again.

To be welcomed for who she was regardless of her mistakes. Like a family should do.

So she searched for the first piece of paper she could get her hands on and a pen, ready to pour her heart out to people she conceded wouldn't even care. They'd probably throw it out unopened. If they read it, tear it to shreds. Or maybe they weren't living in their old house.

There were many things stopping her, but she had much to say and was tired of drowning in the fear of rejection.

To Layla Rahal, Adam Rahal & Aiden Rahal,

That was all she could put down. Scratching her head with her pen, she glared at the names of her parents and brother. Why was she so desperate to reach out to them anyway? After everything they did to her, they didn't deserve her forgiveness. So why did Audrey feel like there was an empty hole only they could fill?

She heard the opening and closing of the front door.

Audrey hastily scrambled and squeezed the paper in her fist. Hopping off the bed, she swiftly kicked the box underneath it and discarded the pen. It wasn't a secret that Gunner despised her parents, he hated her futile attempts at contacting them.

The day she moved in with him, he simmered, going on about how they had disrespected his girlfriend and unborn baby. He threw tantrums, he was blinded by anger, and most of all, hurt that Audrey suffered it all on her own.

Almost seven years later and his hate burned hotter. She understood that he was just doing it to protect her, to console her, to make her feel like she didn't need them. But in reality, she did.

It was hard to wrap his head around the fact that she needed the same people who didn't need her.

Gunner ambled inside their shared bedroom, and he didn't look to be so stressed over their argument as he did earlier in the day. His expression was light in nature, but he shook from the effects of the cold like his smile. The patches of red on his otherwise pale skin were telltale signs of how brutally icy it had become outside.