1.1 The Inheritence

Note: This chapter has brief nudity. If you are offended by this, then please don’t read it. Otherwise, read on!

I intended for this chapter to be a little longer than it is, but I have been swamped with school and with the Rock the Sims magazine. I hope you enjoy it anyways. I’m not thoroughly satisfied with it, but the next update will hopefully make up for it.

Credit: The posepack used in this chapter is the Don’t Be Sad, Baby! posepack by IMHO.

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Drowsily stepping off of the plane, I gazed around the beautiful landscaping all around me. Luscious green trees stood tall and proud while rolling hills surrounded the quaint seaside town of Belle Harbor. My stomach quenched with anxiety as the smell of salt water reached my nostrils. I wouldn’t have been surprised if it was my body’s way of detoxing itself from all the city smog I’ve inhaled all my life.

I sped through the airport like a bat out of hell; quickly picking up my luggage from the baggage claim and going through the annoying procedures of checking my bags. “Are you new here?” asked the woman who was scanning my luggage. I sheepishly nodded as if a five-year old would have. The woman warmly smiled and handed me back the very few pieces of luggage I was able to bring with me. “Well welcome to Bell Harbor, dear!” I returned the warm greeting and headed out to the front to catch a cab.

There were numerous taxi cabs rolling about, waiting for travelers to wave them down. It didn’t take me long to wave one down and I was soon on my way to where I was suppose to be. “Where to, sweetheart?” asked the cab driver. Sweetheart? Was everybody here so nice? I pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from my jean pocket and read the address that I had written on there. The scribbles indicted that I must had been in a hurry. I chuckled at my own poor penmanship.

“32 Nectar Road.” The driver nodded and took a left turn past a long row of apartments, then a short right turn over a bridge, leading us onto a dirt road.

Rundown. That is the one word that described my new address. I stood in horror after the driver left. A short turn after the bridge and this is where I get dropped off to? If it had been up to me, I certainly wouldn’t have chosen this dump. But it wasn’t up to me. Eighteen years and this is my inheritance from my deadbeat mother. I wasn’t surprised. The only thing I ever received from my mother were a couple of meaningless birthday cards with a prison address stamped on top of the envelope.

I sat on the front porch and waited for him to arrive. Feeling my anxiety coming back, I folded my knee and pressed it up against my chest. I hated feeling this way. Why did I have to keep getting these panic attacks? I never knew how I started getting them. The first time I remember getting them was when I was a child.

I would often dress up like a princess and pretend I was residing over royal court with all of my stuffed animals as my staff. I was in my room when I heard the shouts. Then came the loud shatters of various items breaking. My mother screaming at my father at the top of her lungs. My father’s slurred words being spat back out at my mother. Back and forth until one of them left. Most of the time it was always my mother leaving. I wouldn’t see her for days.

Forcing myself back to reality, I quickly arose from the porch and wandered aimlessly around the property. The faint memories of my parents haunted me daily. Most people would want to remember their parents. I tried to desperately forget them. I focused on the disheveled lot and the deadness of the leaves on the ground. I sighed heavily and turned around to notice a tall lanky brunette standing adjacent to me. “Are you the guy who has the key to the house?” I asked hastily.

The tall lanky man widened his eyes, surprised at my forwardness. I felt my cheeks get warm and I’m pretty sure they were a nice shade of red too. I didn’t mean to come off rude, but I was so disappointed with the way the property looked like on the outside that I was becoming even more nervous to see the inside of it also. “Yeah. Are you Corrina Willows?” I nodded shamefully as he extended his hand out to me. “I’m Declan. I’ve been looking over the property.”

“For the past eighteen years? You don’t look a day over twenty.” Declan let out a small chuckle and shook his head. He told me that his father was the one who had been overseeing the property and when he died, he took over. “It’s…pretty old.” I said, eyeballing the old shack beside me disdainfully. He let out another small chuckle.

“It’s old, but it has charm. Once it’s all redone, it will look really nice.” His smile was kind even though his eyes were sad. He had a gloomy presence about him that made me feel depressed just by being around him. “I’ll show you inside the house now.”

The house was just as horrible as the outside. The paint had well begun to peel off of the walls, the carpet was old and shabby, and the house smelled musty as if it hadn’t been aired out for years. Declan went on to explain that my mother had been living here before she was arrested and that no one had lived here since. I felt myself began to shake and the redness in my cheeks start up again. I quickly turned my back towards him and faced the living room window. “Is anything wrong?” he asked.

I sighed and tried to swallow the massive lump in my throat. “Did you…know my mother?” I turned back around to face Declan when he didn’t answer right away. Confusion settled into his eyes when he saw the desperation in mine. I didn’t know why I felt the need to know that he knew her. What does it matter anyway? If she cared anything at all about me, she would have thought twice about what she had done and would have been a better mother. I suddenly felt the anger fill up inside of me.

He shrugged his shoulders. “She worked a lot at nights. I saw her a few times. She kept to herself really.”

I turned back towards the window so he wouldn’t see the anguish in my face. I rubbed my neck and sighed at the thought of my mother living in the very house I am now living in. “She had a lot of money, you know. I don’t know why she would live in a shack like this.”

Feeling his growing discomfort, I quickly ended the conversation and told him that I needed to be alone for awhile. I apologized for being weird and blamed it on the jet lag. His warm empathetic smile told me that he understood. Despite his gloomy aura, he seemed like a nice guy. But I wasn’t here to make friends. The only thing I wanted was to move on with my life and forget everybody that ever existed in my life.

After he left, all I could do was to sit and think about my plans for the future. I didn’t have any money or a job. Only thing I had to be thankful for was a cheap place to live, even if it was a roach motel inspired shack. Declan was right; fixing this place up wouldn’t cost that much. With a few weeks of hard work and I could get this old place looking like how I want it to be.

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The foul stench of my dirty hair is what woke me up out of my deep sleep. I hadn’t showered since I left my last foster home two days ago and it was beginning to show. I hadn’t realized I had slept an entire day on the cold hard living room floor. Aching from the cold damp air, I made myself a hot shower and cleansed all the past away. The feeling of cleanliness consumed my mood instantly and I suddenly felt better. I stood at the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I was the spitting image of my father. That was perfectly alright with me. Just because I was the daughter of the infamous serial killer, Brianne Willows, did not mean I had to look like her.

I brushed my hair and placed on a little bit of makeup to make the paleness go away. Stress does some awful things to the body, I thought. I gave myself one last once-over before exiting the bathroom, grabbed my purse from the kitchen counter, and headed straight to town.