Chapter 1

8 months earlier

I stare into the open sky, letting the delicate snowflakes hit my face. The snowflakes touched my face as they cascaded down the sky; they were soft against my skin. The familiarity of my surroundings had made me feel nostalgic as I stand outside the bus station waiting for my mother to pick me up. I had been waiting for hours for my ride, almost considering getting a cab but I finally see the familiar silver 2002 Honda civic pull in right in front of me. Here I go, I say in my head, because that is exactly all I can say to prepare myself coming back and seeing some old faces.

It had been 4 years since I had come back into my town in Silverton, Colorado, population of 638 people. I had left shortly after high school to pursue my dreams to become a registered nurse in San Fernando Valley in Los Angeles, California. I was now in my final year of school and finally gave into my mothers overbearing demands to come back and visit. I had left for so many reasons and now I am back because my mother had been overbearing about me visiting, she wanted me to visit before I graduated, before I transitioned into the real world, working to save many lives in the hospitals.

“Freida!!!!... My mom yelled, as she came out of the car, she made her way to the other side to hug me into a warm embrace.

“Oh honey, I am so happy to see you, I am so sorry I am late”,

 “It’s okay mom, I was enjoying the snow freezing my body” I say with a hint of sarcasm.

 “I miss that smart mouth of yours, come here” as she put me back into her embrace. Her hugs were what I missed the most when I left Silverton; she smelled of fresh baked goods, something she would always do when she was stressed or anxious was cook and bake. Her hug alone can send me into an emotional rollercoaster, I forgot how much I missed and loved her. My eyes had started to water, but I controlled the urge to cry and broke away from her embrace.
“I need a long hot shower,” I say, to fill the awkward silence.

My mother rubbed both my arms, “well, let’s get you home”. My mother broke away from me and picked up some of my luggage from the ground and put them away into the trunk of the car. And then we were off, the short trek, up to the home in mountains, a home I grew up in, a home I grew up memories, some memorable some I wish to forget. I was feeling nostalgic as I passed by the small town I spent most of my childhood days in. I glanced at Warwicks, one of my favorite ice cream parlors I went to almost everyday in the summer with my childhood best friend Gisele, we would sit in the parking lot to talk about how gross boys were, as we got older, those very conversations turned into conversations about how cute boys were. The hills, the town, was all starting to look a lot more like the winter season, the snow starting to pile into the roads, it was magical how the snow made everything so serene and beautiful. The town looked exactly how I remembered it as I left and when I was a child. About 9 stores next to each other, with parking space in front of each building, the same trucks as I seen when I was growing up. An insanely small town life, one grocery store, 1 auto shop, 1 pet store, 1 salon, a small town hospital, and the short list ended there. The rest of the buildings were small businesses and I had no patience to acquaint myself with, I was only interested in Waricks and Patty’s Pet Store.

“Mom, you need to buy a pick up truck, or some sort of 4x4 to get through this winter season, I’d hate to see what kind of accident you can get into driving this deathtrap around these slippery streets” I say exasperated.

“I know baby, I hardly drive, but I knew I had to pick you up so I had to drive something”.

“Can’t you ask dad to get you a new truck or something, you’d think with all that money, he would get you something safer to drive in” I say. Then immediately regret bringing up my father.

I caught my mother’s expression change from happy, to instant sadness as soon as I mentioned my father. My mother says nothing, and concentrates on her driving. My heart aches for her, and I wish I could say something to comfort her, but heart to heart talks with my mother was something that never happened. Big talks was something that was not exercised with my family, when something tragic, sad, or scandalous had happened, we all kept to ourselves. So, the rest of the drive was silent. We are now driving up the hill that lead to my home, we stopped in front of the gate, my mother pressed the gate buttons, the black fenced gates had begun to open, and I knew I was entering into something I wish I never came back for.

“Welcome home baby”, my mother finally says in a whisper. We both look at each other with forced smiles, deep down; I knew she did not want me here either. At this particular home at least.

As my mom stopped the engine, she looked at me with guarded eyes,
“I know our family has problems Freida, I just want you to know that I am happy you are here, and I want you to have a relaxing time here, we’ve all missed you, so let’s make this visit a good one”.
I looked at her, maybe try and see past her guarded look to see if she had some sort of hidden message behind her words, but I was too exhausted from the trip, and all I wanted was hot shower and a long power nap.
“Of course mama” I say, trying my very best to sound convincing, but even then I can’t convince myself I should be happy with this visit. I take my luggage out of the trunk with my mom helping me with the rest, I make my way to the front door of my small white house as I wait for my mom to unlock the door. I took a moment to look at the house; it looked the same yet so different at the same time. The same white wood walls, the same white pillars, the same white wooden door with glass at the top, the same windows, windows I used to sneak out when I was a teenager sneaking off to see my childhood boyfriend Dillon. Oh Dillon, another memory I wish to forget.
“I can’t seem to find my keys honey, and I am holding too much things to look through my purse, could you just ring the doorbell, your father should be home”.

I shudder at the mention of my father greeting me at the door, but I ring the doorbell, a doorbell I hate because it instead of normal sounds a doorbell should make, it’s a doorbell that would make even jingle writer’s cringe. Once I had rung the doorbell, I hear Cobie barking, it was something that put me in a better mood. The door opened, and I dreaded to see who was on the other end of the door. The door opened and I knew I was about to enter through something I knew I did not want to go through.