impercebtible
𝑰'𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 - 𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎, 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎.𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒉𝒆𝒓... 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒎.𝑻𝒐𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆 - 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒔 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Sometimes you don't run away to start anew, but because you no longer have the strength to stay.Haunted by their pasts, seventeen-year-old Jolene and her mother have no choice but to flee back into their memories. Together, they move into the house Jolene's late grandfather left them, in Forks, a place where Jolene spent part of her childhood, now nothing more than a whispering memory in the fog, scented with rain, friendship, smoke, and the past.What Jolene doesn't yet know is what awaits her among the gray-green misty forests and silent roads.She will learn that the past doesn't always stay buried,that hearts can open again, even after learning how to remain closed,that love doesn't always mean healing,and that some encounters are not coincidences, but fate.
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The windshield wipers did their best to give my mother a view of the road that stretched endlessly before us, cutting through the forest. Raindrops beat against our windows, and a thick wall of fog formed all around us. Without the barely functioning air conditioning in the car, I probably would have frozen to death. I was no longer used to the cold. The lingering smell of nicotine filled my nose, stirred up and intensified by the air vents. Not that it bothered mequite the opposite. I was used to the smell of smoke; it gave me a strange sense of comfort. My mother and I had already smoked several cigarettes on this endless drive, but who could really blame us under these circumstances?Exhausted, I leaned my head against the cold windowpane, a strand of my long, wavy, light-blonde hair falling into my face. I blew it away and stole a glance at my mother, who sat next to me at the wheel, lost in thought. Her once full, dirty-blonde hair was tied in a messy bun, and her green eyes, identical to mine,no longer shone as brightly as they used to. They were dulled by exhaustion, framed by dark circles. I knew exactly how she felt, even though she tried to hide it. I wasn't doing well with the situation either, but our move from California to Arizona had been unavoidable.The heavy silence between us was broken by my mother's slightly raspy voice: "I'll just grab something to cook for dinner. Do you need anything? Should I bring you a water?" The turn signal clicked, and she pulled into the parking lot of a supermarket that looked more like a wooden cabin. "A water would be nice," I said, holding my hands in front of the air vent. "Okay, be right back, sweetheart." She unbuckled her seatbelt, pulled up the green hood of her rain jacket, and stepped out into the pouring rain.For a moment, I watched her disappear into the store, then let out a long, heavy sigh. It was exhausting to keep up a façade all the time, to hide what I was really feeling, but I didn't want to worry her any more than she already was. I decided to turn on the radio to drown out my too-loud thoughts. At first, only static came through, but after switching through a few stations, an instrumental track finally began to play. It wasn't great quality, and the static hadn't completely disappeared, but it was better than nothing.Suddenly, the bitter taste of nicotine filled my mouth, and I started to feel slightly nauseous. Hoping to find a piece of gum, I reached into the side compartment and rummaged around. I could barely resist the urge to grab the already opened cigarette pack and light another one. As I kept searching, instead of gum, I came across some unfamiliar photographs.
𝑰'𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 - 𝒈𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎, 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒉𝒆𝒓...
