``THEY CAN'T UNDERSTAND

[amyra]

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------ Things in the Veria household... or... trailer I guess, had not been excessively joyous as of late. The once happy and carefree girl pulling her shorts over her swim suit at the moment was no longer happy and carefree. She was still a free spirit but she had also become angry. She was angry at God for sending the earthquake, she was angry at the people who left him, she was angry at the shallowness of this place, she was angry at her own reflection for looking the way they wanted her to. She buttoned her jean shorts and grabbed a black shag vest from the chair before leaving the back room of the trailer. She stepped into the living room seeing her brother Miles sitting at the booth looking frustrated. Miles was now nineteen years old. He had even grown an inch. He was now 4 foot 8 inches. Five years ago he was still 4'7". He was still taller than mom though. Amyra looked at him with a concerned and questioning look on her face. He nodded over to the couch where she saw her mom, Sally. Sally was about the same height as Miles, if not a bit shorter. If you couldn't guess, yes, they were dwarfs. Not that it matters. Mom was lying down, facing the cushions, wrapped in a large adobe blanket that he had gotten her last Christmas.

------ This 'He' that is being referred to was Amyra, Miles and Marcus's father, Thompson, and love of Sally Veria's life. He was killed in the earthquake last month. Sally had been like this ever since really. It was up to Miles and Amyra to take care of everything. Marcus was only eleven, but Miles had a hard time getting a job. It was like Miles and Amyra had not had anytime to even register the sadness of their Dad's death. Miles was just trying to take care of everything at home and deal with college, Amyra felt the anger but she was busy trying to earn enough money on her own to keep them all afloat. Thompson had never had life insurance. He wanted it but not one company he went to seemed to want to take on an armless man. They were left with nothing. Amyra looked at Sally and set the black shag vest on the table near Miles. She walked over to her mother and sat down on the edge of the couch next to her. She put her hand on her shoulder and rubbed gently, "Hey Mom?" She spoke incredibly softly with a gentle tone. "Mom...?" Amyra repeated. Sally glanced to the side at Amyra without moving her head before she went back to staring at the cushions. Amyra took the cue. She sighed and stood back up, giving Sally a light supporting pat on the shoulder. She went to booth and sat across from Miles. She kept looking over at their mom though. Miles glanced over at her and nodded, "She is even less responsive today." He said, speaking even quieter, hoping not to upset Sally. He exhaled deeply and looked down at the Anatomy books in front of him. Amyra turned to look at him. "You look tired."

------ Miles gave a weakly amused smile, "I took Marcus with me job hunting yesterday." Amyra nodded, "Any luck?" Miles' small smile faded and he glanced back down at his book, shaking his head a bit. Amyra bit her lip and looked back over at Mom. She took a deep breath and Miles spoke again, "The economy's really bad right now..." Amyra stood up and pulled the shag vest on, she had found it years ago in an old costume truck from the circus they had been working for at the time. She forced a smile, "I'm sure that's it." She replied before leaning down and giving him a cheek to cheek kiss for good bye. They spent a lot of time in Europe growing up, it was just a part of the culture. "I got to get to work, Marcus outside?" Miles nodded, "Yes, he was being a bit noisy, didn't want him to bother mom." Amyra smiled and waved bye as she made her way outside. Once outside she was greeted by the only even semi-happy face around the Veria home lately as Marcus ran around practicing his football, or soccer here. He was going out for the team and honestly, they were all hopeful, after all, you did not really need hands to play soccer. Marcus had hands but he had cleft hands(CLICK). And while Miles hated it, the eleven year old was growing big. He was already taller than Miles by only a little less than a foot. He seemed like he was going to be tall. And honestly, if Marcus hadn't had the cleft hands, the truth was he was a good looking little kid by most of societies standards. Amyra loved the little boy. He was like her in a way. Miles was Sally's birth son. Marcus was adopted by Sally and Thompson as an infant. He was found in a dumpster, apparently his hands scared his mother too much so she tried to simply throw him away. You couldn't find a nicer kid.

------ Amyra gave him a quick hug, telling him he was getting better before making her way out of the trailer park. He was good too. She really hoped he would make it onto the team. The kids at school were kind of mean to him, maybe that would help him make some more friends. Right now, he really only had one. Dennis. Dennis was great for Marcus. Dennis was already on the Soccer team, seemed pretty popular in the school and he barely even noticed Marcus's hands until he saw Marcus attempting to write on the board at school. Amyra took hold of a street lamp post and leaned back to sort of skip of as she turned left to continue down the street. She was a fast walker. She loved walking, even if she was headed from the outskirts to downtown. Even for her it was about a twenty-five minute walk. When she finally arrived she pulled the keys Reed Turner, her very depressed boss, had given her. She needed the extra cash and he needed the extra help lately so she had taken on more responsibilities. She opened the door and made her way into the bar. It was about 4:00pm and they didn't actually open until Six for happy hour but she always came in early to clean up a bit and make sure things were all set and ready for opening. Including checking the stereo system. She walked straight to it and put in one of the lesser used groups since they aren't as loud as say Warrent, ACDC or Floggin' Molly. She put the Leveller's CD into the player and switched it up to the song Sell Out (CLICK).

Amyra then walked over to the counter making sure they had everything. They actually didn't have a lot of Vodka out front so she made her way to the back to restock. She danced around a bit to the music, spinning a few bottles here and there in time, just trying her best not to think about life. She leaned down to put some glasses away when she heard someone's footsteps, "I wasn't expecting you, Reed" She said immediately but when she looked up, the man she saw was most definitely not Reed, she put her hands on the counter, "Hmm... well, you're not my Boss." She said plainly. She stepped out from behind the counter drying one of the beer glasses, "But we're actually closed right now, don't open until six."

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STATUS;; complete
TAGGED;; evan<3
CREDITS;; format stolen from lainey, with a little tweaking by me
LYRICS;; 'you'll be in my heart' by phil collins
CLOTHES;; here
NOTES;; sooo, about time I got this shit up, hope the ended was okay.

[evan]

VALKYRIE, CALIFORNIA, BAD SEEDS, MID-AFTERNOON, JANUARY 2012

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-----it was just a job. that’s what the twenty-six year old kept telling himself silently as he caught minute glances at himself in the mirror, finally getting ready for the day. yes it may have been the afternoon and yes most of the world was heading home from work or looking forward to a nice dinner in the near future but that wasn’t the case for evan mccall. no when the sun set was usually when evan’s day began and that was no less true today. the only difference being that the sun was still up. the only reason why he was up so early? he had a job to do. evan was a private investigator for a living. his life’s work was to solve puzzles, to find the pieces and put them together until he had an entire story ready and waiting for whoever had requested it. he’d been approached about a familial issue a few days back, had done his research, and it turned out this job wasn’t going to be that difficult of one. was someone in valkyrie related to another someone in valkyrie? sounded like an easy open, easy close case and that was unusual for evan. usually his cases included cheating spouses of every brand. you know the deal. hookers, liars, cheaters, bastards and bitches. they lined the streets just waiting for the opportune moment to pounce and when they screwed up, evan was there to catch them. there was a reason why he was such a night owl, mostly because he spent his days sleeping off long night raids. yes while cheating wives and husbands partied it up in some motel room, bouncing around the sheets until they were likely to set the place ablaze, evan was seated outside in his old ass american muscle car, just clicking away at the shadows on display against the curtains and waiting for those money shots where some hopeless sucker was conned into one last kiss on the balcony before going their separate ways. or snapping pictures of them as they zipped up their flies on the way out the door. honestly some people could be so disgusting but most of all they were just unoriginal.

-----evan had long since become detached from the job. he’d long stopped caring about sugar coating it for the nervous wife or whatnot. he had to. there were too many cases where he’d had to change shirts after someone had slobbered all over it and honestly? he couldn’t afford for that many trips to the laundromat. he was after all the same guy whose house had toppled in the quake, the same guy who was living in his office and sleeping on the same couch where his clients sat during their interviews or bouts of bad news. he was the same guy who’d been forced to take showers in the apartment above, a place he’d sworn he’s never touch again after the death of his business buddy. but you had to go on living right? you had to suck up what was life and just do what you had to do to get through it. of course saying that and even saying that aloud were two very different things. evan could give himself the pep talk of a lifetime in his head but did that ever mean that it actually made it to a tangible sound? did motivational words actually ever leave his lips? not usually. it was much more common for the words “i’m sorry,” “he is in fact cheating on you,” or “stop being delusional, working overtime actually means working overtime” to leave his mouth. if it weren’t for having to come in contact with even those clients, evan probably wouldn’t even be saying that much. he wasn’t a talker. hadn’t been for years now. the last few words evan had had that held some meaningful kind of connotation were the words he’d said to his girlfriend, and soon to be future wife, as words of praise before he left for work the day they’d both died. he’d thought she was getting so much better. well, so much didn’t really cover all of the bases. evan still thought that she was unstable and that she wasn’t ready to be alone for long periods of time with their child but, well you had to put food on the table. evan knew his girlfriend had been off balance and he’d known that there had to have been some other option that would have worked better but honestly, he’d tried having faith in the fact that that woman was able to control herself. so he’d told her things she may have needed to hear to get her through the day before he’d left and never seen either of the two lights of his life breathing again.

-----they still haunted him, and probably always would, but those last few words were the last real heartfelt words evan had said in a long time. everything after that was some rendition of “i’m fine” or whatever it took to get the strangers off his back. he didn’t usually say it for himself other than to get away from whatever pitying company it was that was hanging around and plaguing his sanity. most people didn’t know and that was the way evan wanted it to stay. that was the way it would stay. his would-be wife was dead. his would-be daughter was gone as well. there was no hope for that future that could have been and that was all that really mattered. he was a lost man floating in a sea of i’m sorries and pity and the best way to get around that other than sleeping through it and managing to stay awake while the rest of the pitying world was asleep was to, well, do his job. he was supposed to find out if this woman, this amyra veria, was in fact family of the client. easy enough. it was a likely candidate for being the only case this year that didn’t involve following around some skank or sleazeball so he might as well enjoy it while it lasted, or however long it lasted. so he did a little research, found out that an amyra veria was employed over at the local bar bad seeds. good, solid place. good beer, low prices, evan had been there a time or two but he’d never introduced himself to any of the staff. wasn’t planning on doing that tonight either, it was just a scope deal. it was too early to even scope by the time he’d hopped in his car and headed to bad seeds. the place wasn’t even open. bad move on his part but you couldn’t fight when you woke, at least evan couldn’t. all that would entail was a bit of flopping back and forth until he gave up fighting a lack of sleep and just made the trudge upstairs to the shower. instead of pissing himself off that way, he might as well just sit around until the place opened. the parked car’s radio barely played a little rock music as evan scanned over case files of upcoming stake outs he needed to plan. since he was up and since there was time to kill he might as well do some work right? as he looked up in search of a pen, evan noticed the redhead in question heading into the bar. well looked like his work might be even easier than he’d thought after all. closing up the case files he stepped out of the car, put the files in the trunk, and headed into the bar knowing full well that the place was still closed.

-----she didn’t notice him until he’d made a sound and then hadn’t looked up until the last minute. not something evan would advise but this gal looked like she could at least handle herself for a round or two, but then again he was known for giving the wrong people credit. ”yeah i read the sign on the door. saw you come in and could really just use some quiet time with a goo drink. was wondering if you’d surrender a little of your alone time to help a guy out.” he played it off like some kind of guy in desperate need for booze and/or company. only half of that was true. evan hadn’t enjoyed company in a long time but no one ever frowned on him drinking on the job since his partner had died so…yeah. ”i’m no sleaze or anything. i’m just impatient.” he said with a lopsided and half-hearted smirk before cocking an eyebrow at the bar stool, asking permission to sit.

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status • finished
words • 1494.
tagged • amyra !
clothes • this and old jeans !
notes • sorry this thing took so long.

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[amyra]

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------ One of Amyra's best friends during her teenage years was named Tara. Tara was the type of girl whose laugh could brighten even the saddest of eyes. She was infectious you know? She walked into a room and you immediately felt whatever she was feeling, so luckily she was happy a lot of the time. Amyra remembered this one time, they were in Rome, it was the middle of the night and Tara, Amyra and Terrence who was still dating Amyra at this time, Daniella convinced them all to sneak out, away from the rest of the circus group and go walking in the streets. It was a fairly quiet night, especially for Rome. Tara led Amyra and Terrence to the Trevi Fountain. The few people that were around, probably tourists were further away, towards the shops. The fountain looked incredible in the wee small hours of the morning. The water had lights in it so it had a very pretty greenish blue glow to it. The statues of the saints that towered over the fountain were majestic and breath taking. That fountain was one of the most beautiful things Amyra had ever seen in her life. Tara did her best to stand more upright, it could be difficult because her knew bent completely the wrong way. Tara who was called a camel girl, which meant her knees bent backwards, not just simple double jointedness, Amyra was double jointed, but they bent completely back and not forward at all. She felt more comfortable walking on all fours (example). She did her best and pulled off her shoes and gloves before she stepped into the fountain.

------ Believe me, if there's one thing you don't want to do while in Rome, it's piss the people who guard the fountains off. But instead of being worried about being caught, Terrence heard her getting into the water and began laughing. He used his walking stick, tapping it against the stone before he pulled off his shoes and rolled up his pants. Amyra had slipped out of the flip flops and joined them. They danced around in the Trevi Fountain like no one in the world existed who could stop them. It took a good ten minutes before one of the patrols noticed from above. Amyra, Tara and Terrence scampered out of the fountain and ran as fast as they could when they finally got to the Spanish steps where they practically collapsed. Incidentally, there is another fountain at the base of the Spanish Steps, but that one they did not enter. Instead, the sat on those steps and felt the night. They felt the moment. Amyra missed her days of idle travel with the circus. She missed her friends. Tara she was still able to write to every-so-often but there were so many others Amyra had just lost contact with. Memories like that of the Trevi Fountain were bittersweet. Terrence, or Terri as Amyra had called him, had been killed just a few short months after that.

------ They called him Terri. He was her first serious boyfriend. He was clever and mischievous. He had this certain smile he would place on his lips and you would know, he's planning something. He was devious but never cruel. He was funny and full of life. He was skilled at throwing knives and darts and he was so sensual. He was blind too but that made him more sensual actually. The way he touched her face that day to help him construct a mental image, so soft and yet it sent shivers all down her back. He may not be what society called your basic sexy man, he looked a bit like cory matthews on Boy Meets World but she found him incredibly hot. The sense of touch means so much more to a blind man and it showed in the way he touched her in every sense. She fell in love with him. He was her first and so far, only love. She loved him. He was a part of the show as a dart thrower with impeccable aim despite not being able to see. But after only a year together, society took another swing at them. Terri had a job playing drums in a blues club during the off season of the show. It wasn't in the greatest part of the city on one night, on his walk home, coming back to her, some group of drunken guys, a football team(american soccer), thought they could be stupid and tough, "teach the blind freak a lesson" and they stabbed him, right into a major artery. He didn't last long and was dead before Amyra even knew he had been hurt. Loosing him killed her, and solidified her anxiety towards the "normals" despite, her appearance making her one in a way. She had lost what she considers her virginity to Terri and it was amazing and... it hurts. She wasn't able to talk to anyone for weeks.

------ She still missed him but she was young, she had her family, she had to be able to heal and move forward and that's what she did. But now she had lost Thompson... she had lost Dad. She could not keep thinking about it. She had money to earn. After all, Sally wasn't getting out of bed anytime soon. Amyra looked up at the man who had entered. He was a good looking man in both Amyra's and societies terms. But there was something incredibly sad about him. ”yeah i read the sign on the door. saw you come in and could really just use some quiet time with a goo drink. was wondering if you’d surrender a little of your alone time to help a guy out.” Amyra watched him and nodded at one of the stools near the bar. ”i’m no sleaze or anything. i’m just impatient.” Amyra returned his half hearted smile with a small honest one, "Go ahead." She replied to the man. "But I'm not dancing for one guy, that's a little on the awkward side for me." Amyra added only slightly kidding. She shook her head as a thought came floating into it, she turned around and turned on the faucet, giving her hands a quick wash before serving any drinks, "What'll ya have?" She asked loud enough to be heard over the sink and the light music. Amyra started to get his drink ready. She pulled her hair over one shoulder and let the dishrag drape over the other as she assembled the drink and pushed it forward to him. Oh well fuck it, when has she ever censored herself, "Sucks doesn't it?" She added after a moment of quiet, "Losing someone?" she finished, hoping she wasn't crossing a boundary and knowing she probably was, yeah she was making an assumption, but she had gotten used to that forced look of being alive in someone's eyes. It was the look Sally gave her every morning since Dad's passing. Plus, she was kinda testing the guy, she really didn't want to deal with an overly emotional drunk right now

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STATUS;; complete
TAGGED;; evan<3
CREDITS;; format stolen from lainey, with a little tweaking by me
LYRICS;; 'you'll be in my heart' by phil collins
CLOTHES;; here
NOTES;; <3 hope the end's okay, wanted to give you something more substantial to respond to than just "what do you want to drink" lol. I can change it if you want

[evan]

VALKYRIE, CALIFORNIA, BAD SEEDS, MID-AFTERNOON, JANUARY 2012

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-----loss was a sore subject for just about anyone. hell even the most unfeeling people felt something when someone they held even remotely close to them died. maybe they didn't show it on the outside or maybe they saved that kind of thing for being in private where you could be yourself or whatnot, but everyone felt over loss. did it matter when that person wasn't close to you? yeah probably. but evan had yet to meet a soul who didn't hurt when someone close to them died. and close didn't just mean family. it was possible for family members to not give a damn when people close to them died. you heard stories about it all the time and they glorified it in the movies as well. some trust fund, snot nosed brat just sat around waiting for grandma to croak so that they could inherit their millions and go on some kind of spending spree. it happened all the time. hell there were even those who were so unfeeling, or so deranged, that they could kill a member of their family and feel absolutely nothing. blood ties didn't mean that you automatically mourned for those around you. but the people that were close to you were a different matter entirely. the people who sink in deep, to the bones and really, truly change your life are the ones that you mourn. they were the people you would bleed for, give your life for, and give a piece of yourself for. did they have to be family? no of course not. all they needed was to be close and to have mattered in the eyes of the beholder. for evan that had been his now deceased girlfriend. she hadn't been family in the blood sense of the word but she had given him a family even if it had only been for a brief time. though her illness had turned her into a person evan didn't even recognize, he still had seen past all of that and had loved her despite what she was going through. it was because he loved her that he'd stood by through thick and thin and had tried to help her every bit he could until financial obligations demanded he get his ass back to work. he'd done everything he could have done for her and the baby and it just hadn't been enough, but he'd still mourned them. despite her not resembling the woman he'd fallen in love with, evan had still mourned her.

-----and his baby. family bonds didn't necessarily have to mean anything but for evan the bond that he'd had to that little girl had been everything to him. he had loved her more than words could describe. he'd feared for her life when his girlfriend had been at her worst to the point that he would sleep on the floor in her nursery just to make sure nothing ever happened to her in the middle of the night. and yet despite all of his efforts the worst had still happened. evan didn't like it. not one bit. he hated himself for feeling this way and feeling like he should have done more to protect her. sure there had to have been some person or some group who would have been willing to help them. evan hadn't been a religious man but he could have gone to church if it meant that some group of caring individuals would give him some kind of loan that would have put his daughter in daycare until his girlfriend had come to terms with her illness and overcome it. postpartum depression was curable. it was something women could get over with medication, counseling and effort, but it was something they just hadn't been able to afford. and there were reasons why evan always referred to them as his girlfriend and his daughter. it always felt as though that way they would be a little more separate from him. like there could be a little more distance between them. using their names...it just hurt too much. he hadn't been able to say their names since the double funeral in which he'd given a stone-faced eulogy. he couldn’t exactly explain it either. it was as though saying their names just made it far too real. it was like traveling the country after their death would have been for nothing should he openly say their names and acknowledge the fact that yes, they were dead. the woman that would have been his wife had taken the life of the little girl who would have been about six years old this june.

-----it was hard and because it was hard evan avoided the subject like the plague. no one wanted to talk about the way things could have been. evan especially. he didn’t want to sit around and chat about how if things had been different that he probably could have been sitting around in a home at this very moment, waiting for his daughter to come back from first grade as his girlfriend, who at this point would have been his wife, pulled a pan of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies that she’d made from scratch out of the oven. evan would have been the first at them, ignoring the swap of his wife’s over mitt as he bit into a scalding hot cookie, cursing slightly as he rushed for a glass of cold milk as his wife laughed in the background saying i told you sos. it wasn’t something that stuck in his brain every waking moment of every single day. it wasn’t part of a recurring nightmare that kept him up every single night. to anyone else it would have been a dream sequence. to anyone else they would have sat back and enjoyed the thought or the dreams but evan couldn’t do that. he couldn’t sit around and think of everything that could have been. he couldn’t sit there and imagine what it would be like to take his family back to his parent’s house so that he could show at least his mother that he’d done something good in his life. he couldn’t think about what the future would have been like and how much he would have enjoyed scaring the piss out of some acne-ridden sixteen year old boy who was taking his daughter out on her first date or taking her to prom. he couldn’t think of any of that without wanting to reach into his chest and literally rip out his heart. things like that, they just hurt too damn much for words.

-----evan really hadn’t meant to get lost in his own thoughts. the voice of the woman behind the bar jarred him back into reality fairly quickly and he took a seat on the barstool as if he hadn’t just gotten lost in wonderland. ”thanks.”

[/color] he said taking a seat and shaking his head as she continued. ”please don’t. that wasn’t why i came and yeah that’d be way too awkward.” he’d avoided situations like this for a reason, being alone with people. but he had a job to do and he was going to sit here and do it. he looked down at his hands on the bar before she asked his order. ”whiskey. straight up. minus the rocks.” he said evenly. he sighed, scrubbing his hand through his hair as he looked up in time to catch the glass. he brought it to his mouth and downed it like it was nothing, playing the empty cup back and forth between his hands as the silence in the room built up. all he wanted was to sit here, do his job, and just get out as quickly as possible. it was hard being in a place where you felt the need to start up polite chit-chat and if it wasn’t obvious before, evan wasn’t a chit-chatter. he caught the glass in his right hand as he heard the bartender speak up and this time without thinking his hand clenched against the glass until it gave way and shattered, broken pieces of glass embedding in his skin. ”fuck.” he grumbled as he pulled his hand away and fished out the few big chunks left in his hand. he grabbed a towel and pressed it to his palm, wincing slightly. ”i don’t mean to be rude, if that’s how i come across, but please don’t go there.” yeah he definitely wasn’t comfortable alone in a room save for one other person. it tended to make him the sole focus and he didn’t like being analyzed.

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status • finished
words • 1470.
tagged • amyra !
clothes • this and old jeans !
notes • hope the ending's alright.

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[amyra]

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------ Amyra had no real way of knowing at this point the true reasons behind this man's visit, but it seemed honest enough that he needed a drink, but she couldn't help think that he seemed more of the type to drink alone. Despite everything, and how bad it was at home lately, Amyra was fairly good at keep up a friendly face. That was just who she was. Plain and Simple. But if she had known this man's job, and why he chose this bar specifically, she would not have been so welcome to his presence in Bad Seeds. Her birth family had always been a sore subject for her. She did not even like to remember they existed. To her, it was all about making it seem like, or better yet, all about making to true that Sally and Thompson were her only parents, there was no one else. Amyra was even more determined about now that Thompson had passed. It was as though she had to prove it to them, that she was one of their family and would never denounce them as such. Not for anyone.

------ She did not know what her birth family thought had happened to her, or if they even cared. I mean, her cousins would have at least noticed, she always got along with them during the few family reunions she went to but then again, their parents knew what was happening in her home with her father and none of them did a damn thing. If Thompson thought someone was hurting Amyra like that, even with no arms, he would have at least tried to kick their ass and then gotten Amyra out of there, you know, like family should do for you. Jeremy was the brother to the father of Paisley Parker. He was also Amyra's birth father, god puke, she didn't even like giving him that much. He was Amyra's sperm donor, there, that sounded better. Her mother was a model, basically an industry that represented everything Amyra stood against. He worked in Athens, Greece at a law firm. He never felt close to his family so he had no issue moving away from them. Her name was Bessa and from what Amyra remembered her sperm donor told her, after she was born Bessa became an addict because her career suffered from the baby weight. And when she was three, Bessa took off. But no one left Jeremy, so he went looking for her and brought her back, determined for her to get clean. As a kid Amyra was always pushed into things her sperm donor found socially appropriate. Amyra hated most of it because of the pressure so she went to Bessa who agreed that she shouldn't have to do those things. Jeremy hated that. He hated them for not understanding the way things were supposed to be. They had to be normal, they had to be. He was always the weird kid, he was always alienated they had to be normal.

------ It was then that things began to get worse. It was only verbal abuse until her was seven. after a night of heavy drinking when her father got home and saw a mess in the kitchen from Amyra trying (and failing) to make him cupcakes, he back handed her once. Bessa saw and immediately ran to her child's side, refusing to back away as he yelled at her. He saw her defiance and grabbed her by the arm roughly pulling her into the other room. The next day, they were telling the family about the terrible fall Bessa took down the stairs to explain the broken arm and the bully who targeted little Amyra, hitting her in the face. It was all lies and this stupid image of "normal" Jeremy so desperately wanted to fit. Things hit it's lowest when she was thirteen and that was when she left, but as she was still scared of her birth family making another appearance in her life, she kept her pre-thirteen years locked up tight. Like previously mentioned, not even she liked to think about it. It never happened. She saw a man who looked like an older version of her cousin Gale once and nearly panicked. What if it was him? What if he told Jeremy? What if he came for her? Even in her twenties, the thought sent shivers through her bones. She should know better. He is probably long gone. She should know better on a lot of things, like her new family would never turn against her or accuse her of not being one of them. And that you should leave people's backgrounds alone. Like the man at the bar right now. She smiled slightly as he told her that dancing was not why he came. "I figured." She replied plainly as she turned around towards the drinks ”whiskey. straight up. minus the rocks.” Amyra raised an eyebrow at his order as she pulled the whiskey from the shelf, okay, guy wanted to get shit done fast.

------ Amyra nodded as he downed the whole thing. Yeah... she saw that coming. He clenched the glass and broken it after she mentioned losing people. She didn't jump or anything. She simply got a towel and swiped the glass off the bar top and onto the trash. ”i don’t mean to be rude, if that’s how i come across, but please don’t go there.” Amyra chuckled slightly and nodded, "Sounds good to me" She said, in an almost upbeat tone but still sound cynical somehow. "The last guy who was in here alone and during the day started sobbing on me, literally on me." She added speaking the truth. She tossed the dirty towel and took some of the cheaper whiskey and poured it on the bar when any of his blood may have went. She reached across and moved the towel he had away, taking the cut hand, "Here, this'll sting." She poured a bit of whiskey on his cut too, before putting the towel he had back on his hand and letting go. She wiped the area clean of whiskey, "We get a lot of breaks around here," she spoke as she pulled out a glass and a shot glass, she poured some of the better whiskey into both and handed him the drink "you would think we'd have some real rubbing alcohol. But then again whiskey is so wonderfully multi-purposeful." She added, raising the shot to him slightly before downing it herself. Amyra turned around to and stacked the shot glass on one of the dirty dish trays.

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STATUS;; complete
TAGGED;; evan<3
CREDITS;; format stolen from lainey, with a little tweaking by me
LYRICS;; 'you'll be in my heart' by phil collins
CLOTHES;; here
NOTES;; Sorry it's late.