Chapter 1.

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"Aunt Donna, have you seen my wallet?!" I yell at the top of my lungs, my hands vigorously searching for my brown leather wallet - containing the change I desperately need for my busdrive - in the many moving boxes spread across my brand new room. I need to find them. In a matter of five seconds, actually, or else I'l be late and I'll be fired and I'll be homeless. Basically.

"You left it on the coffee table, honey!"

Oh, the coffee table, of course.

Jumping through the many boxes, I run into the living room. It's not more than three steps away from my room, and when I finally enter, I find aunt Donna painting her toenails on the couch and my brown wallet on the coffee table.

"Thanks," I sigh, picking it up, "I'm leaving now."

"Alright, honey, be safe." she murmurs, not raising her blue eyes from her crooked toes. I'm almost out of the living room, when her voice stops me.

"Hannah, baby?" 

 "I'm sorry. I'm so, very sorry..."

I turn around to meet her hooded eyes. Her tired and wrinkly face looks even more exhausted, making my stomach tighten in sadness. Because I know she means it. I'm not doubting her a second. Her voice has never been this serious, her words never this sincere.

"It's okay, aunt Donna-"

"No, it's not. You know it's not okay. I know it's not okay... You see, I've never been a... responsible person. I've never had to. The first and biggest responsible I ever took was to take you under my wing, and I haven't regretted it for a second."

My gaze lowers to the ground while the words stumble out of her mouth. I just can't look into her teary eyes filled with sorrow and desperation. She doesn't deserve this. 

"I thought... I thought I could do it. That we'd be fine. We were fine, besides those times where I forgot to pick you up from school..." a sad laugh escapes her small lips, "but this time it's different. This isn't me forgetting to pick you up from school or forgetting to do groceries. This is me losing everything we ever had and onto that cause a big, big loan to rest on our shoulders. All this in one night of crazy gambling. And I'm so, so sorry. It... It was supposed to be a fun night in Vegas, a simple reunion with my friends, just like in the 80s, just like my young times. But it went out of control. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that you have to be the adult, Hannah, I'm so, very sorry."

When I raise my gaze I find her standing right in front of me, her small figure looking so defeated, so fragile. Her icy blue eyes stare into my teary ones, and I let a sob leave my lips as I wrap my arms around her slim neck, pulling her towards me, reminding me of how much she means to me no matter what.

"We'll get through this, I promise..." that's the last thing I tell her before I walk out, leaving her behind, knowing that she'll break down in tears the moment I step out of the house. But we'll get through this. We'll find a way.

Knowing about us moving and all, my boss, Mr. Tipton, lets the fact that I am about ten minutes late slide. But this is the last time, he assures me, his smile implying something I can't quite put a finger on. Mr. Tipton is a very old man; however, he posses the spirit of a twenty year old. He has run this antique shop in the center of the famous pedestrian street for as long as he can remember. Actually, he inherited it from his father. So while all the other shops were bought by coveted, high-end brands, this one has stayed the same since it opened. A simple antique boutique in between Fendi and Prada. This is the 'elite' street - that's at least what we, the normal people of Seattle, like to call it.

"Excuse me?" I hear a deep voice call from behind me, as I dust the tall, wooden bookshelf at the corner of the shop. Turning around I meet two very tall men dressed in suit and ties looking as sophisticated as I look average. One of them is wearing sunglasses, and as much as I'd like to remind him that we're inside, he looks too intimidating for me to utter a word.

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