Pyrite

Chapter 1: Headed towards a fucked up holiday (Gods and Monsters)

It was a cold December night and Ria found herself being thankful that she always wore her favorite black hoodie that was the first and only gift she received from her dad as she walked down the street. That made the hoodie special for her. It was probably the only time she was given something by someone willingly. Her father, not her real one, but her adoptive one, bought it using his earnings from their tattoo shop. When she received it, she was so surprised that she could not help but gape at the man that she looked up to as her dad before she remembered to say "thank you" in her small voice.

Her dad also seemed to be taken aback by her display of timidity. She couldn't blame her dad then. After all, she was not known for being affectionate. She was more like the opposite: cool, even bordering the stoic, and had an antisocial demeanor. Most of the time, she kept to herself. This demeanor of her usually prompted most people to tread around her carefully, like she was some snake that would strike anytime. It worked in their home, her adoptive father not really emotionally showy himself. They usually had a quiet breakfast, usually broken by the usual, overused questions of "what time will you come home" or "how was school," or "how were the kids at the orphanage." Some people would probably be put off by that kind of interaction, but she was used to it. It was just the way they communicated. She even welcomed it, she being someone who was not all too keen to divulge herself like that. It had always been that way when she first came to his father's home when she was twelve.

Interestingly, this same countenance was what made her a bit of an outsider everywhere she went. She was not already the most sociable person by nature. However, Filipinos were naturally friendly and had always had the knack to connect with almost everyone, her seemingly cold and withdrawn nature at odds with the majority. It was not as if she really was looking for companionship though. In fact, she mostly preferred it if she was left alone. Making new connections with other people was not her expertise.

However, this situation could get a bit hard, especially in terms of group activities in college. Ever since she was in high school, group activities were always the hardest part. It was during these times that she found herself missing her former best friend. Most of the time, she ended up in groups lacking of members, making it seem like the group she joined was just forced to accept her. She did not mind though. She actually did every task that was assigned to her in every group activities. It was not also that she was not approachable. In fact, she always took it upon herself to ask the leader of the group about the task that would be assigned to her. Her classmates would be polite, but they also would mostly not really initiate the contact nor would she be expected to actually force herself in a clique just to feel accepted.

Generally though, she was just seen as cool and quiet, maybe a bit weird. She couldn't blame them though. After all, she was known for always wearing a long-sleeved hoodie or cardigan, even during the hottest days of school. She used to be asked about it throughout her high school years (she got a special permission to keep her hoodie on always) and she would just lift her sleeves, and they would get these shocked expressions. They would then continue asking how she got those, but she would not answer these questions clearly, just vaguely, just enough to satisfy their curiosity.

When she entered college and wearing civilian clothes became the norm, she was really relieved. At least, her penchant for hoodies and cardigans would not be too noticeable. She only got asked once by her seatmate Diane about it and she simply answered that she was used to it. Her hoodie was like her safety blanket from the outside world, her hiding place from people's judgmental eyes. It kept her life's quiet and peace...

She just did not expect that this quiet and peace would be broken when she finally reached their small house.

"Dad, are you home?" Usually, her adoptive father would be home from the tattoo shop by now, but she did not hear any fuss as she stood by the door.