Howl (18+)

Chapter One✔

Aubrey Becking's childhood home was located in a small town on the edge of Portland, a twenty-hour drive from her home in San Clemente, California. Looking upon it now, with its white siding and the chipped blue paint on its shutters, she could sort of feel the small town appeal. It was a tiny house and only two stories, but it was more than what most people had.

Her grandparents on her father's side had spent their whole lives fixing it up. She remembered spending one summer when she was five painting the now faded white picket fence. A brushstroke up. A brushstroke down.

She walked on the gravel, away from the car that had been her mother's. She hesitated before heading up the chipped paint steps and onto the porch of the house. Even the smell was a thousand times different.

Everything was earthy and wet, but she remembered her love for it. No matter how comfortable she had grown with the sunny and warm beaches of San Clemente she would forever associate the smell with home. She stood and gazed at her home for a long moment. The soft drizzle of constant rain had made the screened-in front porch a necessity. Inside it sat a pair of white worn rocking chairs. Aubrey remembered all the nights on a now-gone porch swing while her grandparents rocked for hours.

Slowly, she tugged the hood of her navy blue jacket over her head and headed towards the house. Inside she saw a shadow flicker past the curtain, and she braced herself as she winded up the stone path. She hadn't been back in eleven years. She hadn't seen anyone in eleven years. She hadn't come back when Poppy died or when Mimi sent to a home. She stayed in California when Beatrice was admitted into the hospital for a psychiatric stay and when she was discharged. She didn't even consider it when her father finally succumbed to hanging himself.

Aubrey stayed in California with her mother and maternal grandmother. She didn't dwell to think of what had been. Years of therapy after moving to San Clemente had taught her that.

She walked onto the porch and opened the creaky door, hesitating. It wasn't too late to turn around and drive back to San Clemente. It wasn't too late to call the whole thing off and tell Bea nevermind. Tell her she wasn't interested in the studio.

Aubrey knew if she stayed in San Clemente she'd be swinging from the rafters of their now torn-down childhood home, just like her father, 8 years ago. While he was a loss she was glad to see, she didn't want herself to be the same way. With no one caring.

She reached up, hesitating. There was still time. She was going to get back in her car and go back to-

She cut the thought off, knocking softly. Back to what? The only person worth stay for was gone. Dead and rotting in a lonely cemetery.

Bea was at the door in a fraction of a second and throwing her arms around her younger sister even faster. "Oh, Aubrey, you're here!" Bea gasped as she squeezed her sister.

"I am." Aubrey forced a laugh, wrapping her arms around her older sister. Bea was taller than Aubrey, by half a foot at least, but then again, Aubrey was only a measly five foot. While Aubrey was shorter, she was more muscle from years of dance. Aubrey stepped back, her hands resting on her sister's shoulders. "Wow, Bea, you're so..." she frowned not being able to find the right words.

Bea didn't sense her sister's displeasure and smiled broadly. She grabbed Aubrey's hand and leading her inside the old house. "So excited to see you!" She said happily, and Aubrey shut the door behind them. She didn't comment on her sister's statement, instead she stared around in amazement. Everything was different.

The old shag carpet was ripped up and now dark oak wood floors were in their place. The walls were painted dark grey, and all the furniture was white and pristine. The old cottage had been completely revamped. It wasn't the home Aubrey had been looking for.