Chapter 1

6 years later…

I'm 22 years old now, and I've healed the most in the past year. My first year away from my family was the worst, I had countless incidents that were life threatening. I’ve been living with Aunt Khlo and her three daughters for 6 years. The two twins Monique and June who’re both 16, and her youngest Lucy, an 11 year old angel. I've landed a pretty good job as a personal assistant as well. Other than that…I’ve recovered, alot. My aunt agreed to cut ties with my mother after I showed her my… journal… the journal that started it all.

 5 years ago I published a book named Avaldas Garden under the pen name, Valerie Rich. I figured the probability of my parents picking this up and reading it were zero to none, but I didn’t want to risk it. Every name in the book was replaced with X, Khloe's best friend Apollo was a Publisher so I asked him and his fiancé to publish it. It was an act of impulse, I was under medications and I was young, dumb… and when your young and dumb you act on impulse. Or so, I did…5 years ago happened to be the year of the most panic attacks I’d ever receive, when I first started fighting. But it was worth all the sweat tears and blood, quite literally. The luxuries were enough to pay off Khloes debts and buy us a good house near a beach. I've thrown away this mysterious Valrie Rich, at first the reason was because I was young. I honestly just wanted people to hear my story, her to hear my side of the story and know the reason for those attacks. I wasn't seeking attention, I wasn't feeling jealous or superior. I genuinely needed help, so I told the world my story and one day she will read it too… when I'm ready.

Aunt Khlo gets a call while I run barefoot around the beach with her daughters. Her face stunned, jaw dropped, I heard the words “What?!” screamed behind us. Monique pushed her shoes off and held me for support. “She's so loud.” rolling her eyes, her sister June shoving her shoulder. “She’s also your mom dibshit.” They lunge towards each other, Monique grabbing the tip of Junes hair, June clawing at Monique's arm. “Hey! Enough, enough!.” I yell attempting to break them apart. Monique screams, June yelps, pulls and yanks Moniques top, while Monique drags June's hair to the sand.

 As I grab the both of them, I notice Aunt Khlo jogging towards me in distress. “Val…I don’t know how to say this.” She starts. Out of breath. “What?” I ask.

 “Your grandmas dead”

The three words I never thought I'd hear. I froze, absolutely frozen… She, what?...

“Holy shit…”

We took the first flight back. Here we are now. Back to my effing nightmare.

I walk down the familiar driveway, the house is renovated and it looks pretty good…it actually looks great, amazing, way bigger than I remember. More land, rooms, and it’s filled with Rich’s. I make my way inside and immediately regret it when all the eyes fall on me. Loud gasps filling the room. “I’ve never felt like more of a mood killer…” I whisper to Khloe. “I reckon…” Khlo nudged a floral vase that looked to cost more than our rent. “You lived here?” She teased. I shoot her a glare biting my cheek to stop the smile. “Once upon a time.” I snicker. We turn the corner, ignoring all the eyes and whispers aimed at us…

“Avalda…” oh, screw my life… my mom's dashing blue eyes met mine. “...Alice” I say. She stopped moving, breathing. Her blind stare, horror, terror, speechless. My brother stops on the long floor boarded steps. I’m quite sure after my journal that publicly shitted on everyone in this room, without their knowledge, I should have the decency to not call her mom. “What did you just call me?” Her voice deepened dipped in a serious tone, she took a small step forward. Her hands are covering her heart like she's trying to keep it from falling apart. “I think we should visit your nan, how about it Val?” Great save. Aunt Khlo wraps her hands gently around my shoulder, a tear escapes my mother- Alice’s eye and we make our way to my grandmother's casket. I falter my stare when I come in contact with Clay’s eyes, I can already sense the warningful tension in his steps.

We hover over my grandmother's dead body, Khlo sympathetically staring down caressing her cheek. “You know, I was her favorite. Her and Pa’s.” I can't help but think I was the reason she never visited her as much. “Aunt Khloe I’m sorry, I know-” She interrupts. “No- no, dear. Mama would've done the exact same thing I did, I talked to her over the phone. It wasn't as if I never heard her voice. You, my dear, have nothing to be sorry about.” She kisses my forehead, and hugs me tightly. Rubbing my forearm a hand appears in front of us. “Sis!” Uncle Jas, I notice the exotic colors blended horribly in his hair anywhere. “And dear Avalda!” Uncle Jas spent his Christmas with us last year, and for my 21st birthday, he was always there… We catch up and talk about what's been happening lately at the house, later I excuse myself to get a drink. A tall figure blocks the entryway to the kitchen. “Uh, excuse me?” I say quietly. “Excuse me?” I say a little bit louder. Still nothing. I see he's talking to someone, I have to tiptoe to even get a view in front.

This is so embarrassing. I repeatedly whisper to myself as I pull the hem of his suit. He finally turns around, concerned, confused… and some other expression I can't decipher. “Excuse me.” I whisper, sliding through him. I stop mid way by his knee, I get a glimpse of the figure that stood blindly in the way. Dirty blond hair perfectly styled, green dazzling eyes I spent the seconds swimming in, unable to lose contact. “Avalda…” Did he just say my name? He looked distrubed, shocked, surprised while we shared our eye contact. “Avalda!!” The handsome man pointed to the island in the kitchen, it was my brother. I was entrapped by his eyes. I couldn't even recognize his voice. “What?” I ask. He glares, he glares and shoots me with more evil looks until he's stepped in front of me. “Don't pull any bullshit like what you pulled at the front door, she doesn't deserve it. My Mom doesnt deserve it.” He made it really clear, the warning in his voice with the way he said ‘mom’ said it all.

 “Not sure why she bothered to get you anything, but mom got you a gift. It's in the library up stairs, one of the draws.” He pushed past me, I almost fell back holding the strangers hem to stop my fall. “Hmm…cousin?” The stranger asked, his voice so perfectly deep. “Sister.” I correct, steading myself. He seems surprised, the stranger doesn't seem bothered in my pathetic sob story as to why my brother acted the way he did. “By any chance, do you know where the Library is?” I ask. Our eyes meet again, his mouth twitches upward and I pinch myself a bit when the twitch becomes a smile. “I do.” Silence after, our eyes dance together. Except my eyes are dark brown and not as exciting as his perfect eyes, he may not be enjoying this dance as much as I do.

He breaks the contact and walks towards the stairs, I follow. I give Khlo a thumbs up when she notices me walking with this strange handsome man, just for her to know I'm okay. She's holding an odd looking broom, Jas is attempting to take a photo of her. A notification goes off on my phone, we’re 4 steps up the stairs. The text reads;

Aunty Khlo; If you get murdered up there shoot me a text and Ill beat his *** with my broom stick.

I laugh a little loudly. Im unsure why she’d think my first instinct is to text her as im getting murdered, and not scream. The man halts and looks at me oddly. “Funeral, I forgot…sorry.” If I hadn't broken contact so quickly I swear I would've seen a large smile crack. We finally make our way up to the door that leads into the library, the library that used to be my room. He walks in first, surprisingly he doesn't walk out when I follow him in. “There.” He says, signaling to a navy blue box the same color of the book. I feel guilty, the hatred and passages of words in each paragraph with her name in it was brutal. I feel the soft color and peel the ribbon off gently. “Are you alright?” the tall figure asks. “Mhmm” I hum. “The color just reminds me of something.” I shrug and open it. Distaste immediately roared out.

It was a golden bracelet chain carved around saying; ‘My little girl’. “What? You don't like it?.” He approached behind me, my breathing halts and falters. My little girl? Maybe it was my thoughts that ruined it, but a chain that looks like shackles with the words ‘my little girl’ don't fancy my interests much. I feel as if she wants me to be reminded of her existence, chained to her. I'm shaking, the memories of being alone and screaming in my room while my own mother ignores me racing through my mind. “I hate it.” I say out loud, I close it and leave it on the wooden desk. I may look like a spoiled brat, but I don't care, I really don't. “I thought girls like gold.” Was he being cheeky? “Prefer silver? Is that it?” He asks, he dusks his finger along the fabric of the box and slowly opens it. I roll my eyes.

“I haven’t seen nor have I talked to this woman in 6 years, a bracelet that looks like handcuffs with the saying ‘my little girl’ freaks me out.” I think he understood what I meant, I felt a little uneasy with the silence he’d given. “You remind me of someone.” He pulls a book down from the bookshelf, studying it. Feeling his fingers and twiddling through the pages, I can't lie when I say I wished it was me for a quick second. “Who?” I ask. He places the book back nicely, reaching for another one. “You both share the same name…” He again studies the green cover book in his hand, this time analyzing the description. “We do?” I'm confused, what is this man talking about? I feel uneasy, watching his movements, gulping at the way he touches the cover of each book he pulls from the shelf.

“Avalda.” I twitch, shake, stop breathing, my heart profoundly beating at a rapid speed. What is wrong with me… “she's a fictional character…” a fictional character? “She's from a book I fancy.” wait… “A supposed journal by the author of the name...” Oh no, no, no…

“Valerie Rich.”  shit.

 “Avalda’s garden” His eyes met mine, studying me. I feel trapped, I need to leave, I want to leave. Let me out… “Val- Valeri- who? uh…I- I- I dont think- doesn't…ring- any bells” Any person who is remotely close to me knows I’d be lying, i’d never use an expression like that. “She's only ever written one book.” He seems disappointed. He locks his hands into his pocket, and turns to leave.

“Wait…” I have gone insane, clinically insane. But he halts, turning back to me the golden light shooting perfectly onto his stance. “I have.” I say confidently. “You’ve read it?” He asked. Genuinely amused, his smirk rendering his face and I pinch hard on my skin at the way his eyes come in contact with my collarbone. “My friend recommended it, she said it’s because my names in it.” I shrugged, trying to hold a smile. And failing terribly. “She recommended…Avalda’s Garden?” The disbelief in his tone offended me a little. “Is there something wrong with that?” my arms crossed, curious as to why he said it like that. He scoffs and lets out a ‘ha’ before leaning on the shelf in front of him.

“No, nothing at all.” He holds up his hands in defeat. “Alright.” I smile; He walks over to the box, brushing his fingertips over it. “I'm not a fan… of gold I mean, the color is too blinding” he teases, and I giggle. A fat grin is planted on his face, and the light just captures this amazing picture.  “You have interesting eyes.” My face reddens, somehow the room's temperature blasted past mars I can’t stand up straight. “That's my line…” I barely get out. The tall figured stranger takes a small step toward me. “In the shade there is brown, but lit up perfectly you see the blue and green mixture of blends. It's an interesting combination.” He says, his words glide through my ear and his voice repeats itself in my mind.

The tall stranger locks his hands into his pockets and guides himself out of the room. “Wait.” I chased after him, “I didn't get your name.” He's holding on to the door frame now, watching me with his green pool of eyes. “Grayson, I'm business partners with Taylor. Your dad.” he says, the tall figured man was no longer a stranger. And the way he said ‘your’ the emphasizing tone of voice, fantasizing. “Grayson huh? Well it was nice meeting you.” I make sure not to pull out my right hand because the tattoo I got when I was 17 is hidden underneath my wrist, I'm sure I brought it up in my journal. “It was nice to meet you too. Avalda.” I could've sworn something was pulling on my stomach, a swarm of butterflies escaping when the man smiles at me.

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