30 Days To Be Normal

Day 1

Chapter One

My grandmother holds my gaze blankly as I do the same, tenaciously. I frown as I look into her once lively and vivid eyes, now reminding me of the faint baby blue that coats the room's walls. A pretty shade to mask the hollow and empty interior.

I let out a soft huff in frustration, before taking a seat across the table, in the opposing chair from hers. "Hi gran," I manage to get out, lightly gripping her hands.

She peers down at our intertwined hands, brows knit. "Do- do I know you?" She questions, confused. A single tear runs down my face and she looks back up, a new emotion playing on her features; sympathy... Or as much sympathy you could have for a complete stranger that is.

I open my mouth to remind her of my name before she speaks up, "Ally is that you?" She questions shocked. I immediately freeze, a sharp pain emerging in my chest.

Memories of me racing down the stairs on a Sunday morning, all in the name of my mother's famous blueberry pancakes appear in my mind.

I lightly pull my hand from her grip and switch to play with my small pool of tears starting to gather beneath me, suddenly wishing I am anywhere but here. How do you tell your grandmother that her child is dead? And ultimately is it even worth it if she probably won't even remember she had a family to begin with in twenty minutes? Frustration fills my veins and I repeatively fist up my hand and release the grip.

I feel a small tug on my hair, "I almost didn't recognize you; did you bleach your hair?" She questions incredulously.

I just lightly nod my head, playing along with her game. My vision starts to blur from my tears and it takes everything in me not to just dash for the door.

"Now why are you crying young lady? Is it that Jake again? I told you from the start he was no good." She affirms strictly.

At this I shoot my gaze up to hers in shock. "Jack?" I manage to utter. My mother never let me meet my father, or Jake as my grandmother refers to him. She was always filling my mind with insidious stories about him from a young age. To this day I don't know if they were true, or where he even is for that matter. But I do know he abandoned me and my mother, which is enough for me to never want to meet him.

She shakes her head, "that no good womanizer deserves the guillotine for treating you this way I swear," she mutters bitterly.

"Womanizer?" I question, did he cheat on my mom? "Reminds me of your dad when he was a teenager," she grumbles.

I release a deep breath and look off to the side, an idea immersing. I never got to meet my grandfather, since he passed away before I was born. He was always too much of a sore subject to discuss with my mother and grandmother, so I don't really know much about him.

"How's— I hesitate for a second— dad doing?" I question.

My grandma looks up at me a mixture of pain and amusement playing on her face. "You haven't visited him recently in prison?" She questions. Shock runs through me and I knit my brows, I never knew my grandfather was a convict. I shake my head no and she continues on.

"Well, unsurprisingly he's basically running the place." She places her head in her hands and shakes her head. "The stupid boy better not get himself in more trouble when he's due for only a couple more years."