One - [The Ice Queen.]

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Kennedy's P.O.V

"You ungrateful little bitch!"

It was half past midnight, and the road ahead of me was void of all cars. Below the worn out tires of my Jeep, the highway glistened with freshly fallen rain. Above, there was a cloudless sky with a bright moon illuminating the streets below.

Blinking hard, I wished the fresh memories from my brain. Although they were a week old, and I found the wounds were still pretty fresh. It doesn't matter, I told myself; that life was behind me. I'd thrown out my cell phone, so she couldn't reach me.

I was never going back.

Crammed into the Jeep was every possession I'd ever own. The vehicle was packed tightly, the only space left open being the driver's seat. Each mile of space I put between me and Raleigh, North Carolina etched a little bit more relief into me.

"I hope I never see you again! I can't ever forgive you for this."

My hands gripped the steering wheel harder, causing my knuckles to become white. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves as more of her biting words cut into me. That woman was supposed to be my mother.

Her and I had never been close. There had been an underlying tension for as long as I could remember. She's always been distant from me; cold, even. The Ice Queen, I used to call her to my friends. My father left her when I was just two years old for another woman. I looked just like him, and my suspicion was that she resented me for the close similarities to the man who'd broken her heart.

My mother wasn't close to either of her parents, who - according to her - had been overbearing and over critical. I had no idea, because there were only a few times I had met them. My grandmother died when I was just fifteen years old. Two weeks ago, my grandfather died.

That's where this story begins.

Unbeknownst to me, my grandfather had a lot of money. Though he hadn't talked to his daughter in years, he left his small house to my mother. He left all of his money to me.

My mother was furious, beyond any anger I had ever seen in her. She had grieved for her father, yes but that was soon overwhelmed by her fury that he had left most of his assets to me. With one half of the guilty party deceased, her anger had only one target; me.

She'd yelled and shouted for hours, calling me every name in the book and then some. She had said some of the most hurtful things that I'd ever heard, and the only reason I hadn't been overwhelmed by my hurt was the anger I'd had at being the innocent target of her rage.

I hadn't had anything to do with my grandfather leaving me his small fortune. I hadn't talked to him in years, and I definitely hadn't asked for it. The only communication I'd had was a letter and bank account in my name by his lawyer, arriving at my doorstep three days after his funeral.

She'd kicked me out before even giving me a chance to consider if I wanted to take the money or not. I didn't even know the man...Was it even right to take it?

But after being booted out of her house, I found myself with nowhere to go. For one week, I couch surfed with various friends. However, it quickly became apparent that I couldn't stay. Their home lives were either as unstable as mine or it was clear my presence wouldn't be something that was acceptable long term. Jobs around me were scarce, and I had less than a hundred dollars in my own bank account. It was clear I only had one choice.

To take the money.

So I took closed my very small, very dismal bank account and got a debit card and a checkbook for my new bank account. While my mother was at work, I retrieved all of my stuff from my house and hit the road with no destination. I'd been on the road for about eight hours now.

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