"some days, i feel everything at once. other days, i feel nothing at all. i don't know what's worse: drowning beneath the waves or dying from the thirst."
romina sutherland lazar
thirty four, victim advocate, mother, wife widow
Goals/Desires: to maintain her sobriety, to make sure her daughter never experiences the side of the world she grew up in, find a way out of her depression
Fears: relapsing, the scream mask, getting close to people (bc she’s lost so many important people), silence
Hobbies: kick boxing classes, riding her husband’s motorcycle, camping in her backyard with her daughter, baking, learning to knit, chasing after her daughter bc five year olds have way too much energy and need all your attention lol
Favorites: drinks - ice cold sprite, arnold palmer (more lemonade than tea tho); food - beer cheese (it’s a food, fight her on it); soft pretzels, cotton candy grapes
QUICK FACTS (quick is subjective tho bc idk how to tldr anything very well)
her mother was a known prostitute and drug addict who died via overdose when she was 15. romina was the one who found her three days later on the couch with the needle still in her arm (she’d been staying with a friend after a fight they had)
her father was in and out of prison for various crimes, mainly drug charges, but the final nail in his coffin was an attempted murder charge - on her mother; he was killed in a prison fight when romina was 12
dropped out of high school near the beginning of her sophomore year
lived on the streets for about a year, stealing and squatting to survive
doesn’t celebrate her birthday or halloween, which stems from a long childhood of broken promises and bologna sandwiches instead of birthday cake and trick or treating (born on all hallows eve y’all)
both her best and worst childhood memories were when her father was around; his first stop out of prison was always their apartment. he’d bring romina ice cream with rainbow sprinkles (a double scoop of cookies n’ cream - she can’t eat it anymore) and take her out for dinner at the 24 hour diner down the street. then they’d go home and him and her mother would spend the next few hours fighting and making up
she wasn’t there the night he tried to kill her mother, she’d been sent to the corner store to pick up a pack of cigarettes and dinner - when she got back the cops were there and she did the only thing she could think to do: run. it was the first time she’d been brought home by the cops. she was 8
was arrested and officially put into juvenile detention after a short foot pursuit for shoplifting from target. she’d stolen food, a winter coat, and some electronics to sell for drug money (was five months after her mom died - was 15)
when she was arrested she was put into juvenile detention and assigned a public defender: martin sutherland, who saw something in her and after their second meeting (and her first court hearing), she was released into his custody. her charges were dropped down to misdemeanors and she was given deferred findings - they would all be dropped if she could pay Target back for the things they couldn’t reshelf and stayed out of trouble until her 18th birthday
martin stayed up with her almost every night for a month straight until midnight before her ged test. she failed the first time and almost didn’t take it again (was 16, almost 17)
the failure caused her to spiral and go on a 24 hour bender, showing up back at the house the next evening high out of her mind. she’d expected to get thrown back out onto the streets but instead she was wrapped in a warm blanket, propped next to some narcan and watched over like a sick infant. the next morning she was taken to an inpatient rehab facility where martin, once again, came every day to help her study for her ged and abigail and missy had a standing lunch date every other day.
was gifted adoption papers from the sutherland family on her 17th birthday and her charges were dismissed and record expunged/sealed on her 18th birthday
took a ‘gap year’ before going to college and getting her criminal justice/psychology degree before getting her victimology certificate and moving back to home after graduation
initially worked at a women’s shelter where she became part of a crisis response team and she met her future husband, lucas ‘luke’ lazar, a narcotics officer
they dated for a year before he proposed, then two years after they were married she had bianca - life was literally perfect
three years ago (two years after her daughter was born) she got a call in the middle of the night notifying her her husband, the love of her life, was killed in the line of duty
to add insult to injury, a few weeks after luke’s death she had a miscarriage (she hadn’t been aware she was pregnant) - it was a devastating experience only her sister knows about
she took some time off at work to focus on herself and her daughter, their families rallying around to support her and their toddler, began attending aa/na meetings and therapy again
her entire world has been turned upside down and while she’s been clean since she was 18 the level of grief that’s overcome her has threatened to drive her back to old, unhealthy coping mechanisms - but a bitch is trying her best
(credit for the graphic template is in the source link)
As she wandered through the pumpkin patch, pulling a wagon behind her already half full with pumpkins to bring back to her family to be decorated, Romy’s attention was momentarily pulled away from her task at hand as she responded to a text from her sponsor on her phone. It was while she was distracted that she veered slightly off path and tripped over a rather large pumpkin she definitely should have seen. “Shit!” Her voice was louder than she’d wanted it to be as she fell to the ground, phone flying out of her hand and wagon overturning as she’d let go of the wrong thing.
Sitting in her embarrassment for a moment before beginning to get up, Romy spotted her lime green phone case a few feet away, right next to another woman’s foot. “Excuse me!” She called out, wiping her scratched up hands on her jeans as she checked herself for any major damage. “Could you grab my phone, please? I’d hate for it to get stomped on.”
In the last month and a half of living in Vancouver, Thomas developed a friendship with Romy that meant more to him than she would ever know. She was one of the handful of reasons he could see himself remaining in Vancouver for longer than a few years like he did in most towns. When she asked him to come to the annual horror night he couldn’t say no. He shoves his hand into the little bag of popcorn, plucking out a few pieces and tossing them into his mouth as he tilts closer to her, keeping his eyes on the screen. “Yeah,” he murmurs, glancing in the direction of where the soft pretzels were. “Come on.” He stands up, placing the popcorn down on the blanket to make sure people knew that blanket was spoken for. “Let’s go get you two pretzels and pray that they did the beer cheese right here.”
—
Since Luke’s death, friendship hadn’t really come easy to Romy. Especially at work. Getting close to people only opened her heart up to more pain when they got hurt, but somehow Thomas had made record time in getting the widow to warm up to him. Their friendship, albeit new, was like a breath of fresh air and even though Romy couldn’t quite find a way to express that to him, she enjoyed the time they spent together. “And maybe more popcorn. Since you’ve seemed to demolish that bag.” She mused, following suit as she stood up and adjusted her jacket as she began to walk towards the pretzel cart with him. “Do you think they’d give us a partial refund if the beer cheese is shit? I mean, it’s like half of the meal is no good if it’s gross.” Nose scrunching slightly, she fell into step with him before coming to a stop in the short line for the pretzels.
“Well,” Angelia couldn’t hold back her grin, finding herself amused, “why are you here?” If this wasn’t her cup of tea then she couldn’t see why she was forcing herself to go through with it.
“I’m interested in the stories and reasons why but not really looking forward to actors jumping out at us,” she confessed and stepped a little closer for conversation.
“But, uhh, yeah— if there does happen to be something on the tour, whether it shows itself or not, and it attaches to you, you wouldn’t want to bring it home. Stop somewhere public and busy first if you can. Maybe on the safe side stop at two places.”
Truly, Angelia wasn’t trying to freak the other woman out, but her superstitious self couldn’t help her warning. Hauntings could be terrifying and traumatic.
“I’d be happy to go grab a drink or a bite with you after this.”
—
It was a fair question, one Romy wasn’t afraid to ask. In fact, she was more than happy to tell the stranger about her flaky brother in law since her sister had playfully hung up on her mid sentence earlier in the evening when she’d called to complain about the woman’s husband. “Because my brother in law talked me into it, something about bonding time after I got out of rehab and letting my sister watch the kids but the bastard bailed. Said he had a scratchy throat and should stay home.” She let out an annoyed huff as she rolled her eyes. “I was going to stay home but nothing was good on TV and my daughter is with her cousins so...” Shrugging her shoulders, she gestured around them as if to say here I am. She left out the part where her sponsor nearly forced her out of the house, reminding her that it was good to spend some time alone in unfamiliar environments, to meet new people and step out of her comfort zone.
Hands sliding into the pockets of her jacket, Romy nodded her head at the other woman’s reason for being there. It made sense. Much more sense than her own reason. However, at her warning, Romy couldn’t stop the amused smile that formed on her lips. Sometimes she forgot people actually believed in the supernatural. She’d experienced hell, lived in it for years, and faced multiple demons before her 18th birthday; the possibility of ghosts or poltergeists didn’t scare her. Especially since she was sure they weren’t real.
“You really believe in this stuff?” She asked, and though there was a twinkle of amused bewilderment in her eyes, there was no judgement or malice in her tone. “I mean, I don’t drink but I could eat. If it’ll make you feel better, of course.” It beat going home after the tour to an empty house.
“Stop looking at me like that.” Dean warned, his arms folded across his chest like he was trying to be every kind of stern though it was hard to mask the amused undercurrent beneath the surface. He was doing his best to be respectful of everyone around him, most of which seemed completely devoted to the idea that they would be able to hear from their dearly departed on the other side, which he was doing his best not to snicker whenever he made eye contact with Romy.
“So, so disrespectful, you are.”
—
Mirroring his actions, Romy’s arms came up and crossed over her own chest as she bit down on her lower lip to keep the smile that was threatening to overtake her features from succeeding. “You stop looking at me first.” How they’d ended up at a séance of all things she still wasn’t sure, especially since she was certain she didn’t believe in any of this nonsense. She’d seen shows like Long Island Medium and Ghost Hunters and didn’t believe in any of it. She couldn’t. It opened too many painful doors she wasn’t willing to touch, and yet... there they were. Amongst a crowd of believers, some of whom had taken notice to their laissez faire and borderline inconsiderate attitudes and had begun shooting the pair annoyed looks.
“Shh! You’re the one being disrespectful. Throwing off the whole vibe with your nonsense.” She chided, the smile she’d been fighting slowly beginning to creep up onto her features as she sucked in a deep breath through her nose. “I’m trying to communicate with the dead here.” She couldn’t even say the sentence with a straight face and she had to bring a hand up to cover her mouth and stifle the laughter pushing past her lips. “Get it together, Jackson.”
Suhana was beginning to regret wearing her costume to the Haunted Hayride this evening. Not only was it chilly out, but there were so many younger children around that she wished she’d brought her jacket to cover up and look somewhat respectable. In her defense she wasn’t planning on staying very long because she did have somewhere else she had to be tonight, but even the time she was here meant that for the next hour or two every mother would shield their child away from her as if she were the devil incarnate. Except for this one woman who was making her feel more at ease the more she talked. “Oh I know. This skirt and the hay are just… a big no no. I’m just here with a friend for a little while, but they assured me we weren’t going to be here too long.”
—
It was only when the woman’s skirt was mentioned that Romy looked down, eyebrows raised as she saw more legs than skirt and she shook her head. “I do not envy you one bit on the ride.” She chuckled. She was wearing jeans and she’d already been poked and jabbed by the hay through the fabric. She couldn’t imagine not having any barrier between her skin and the offending grass. “Did they also assure you that the hay won’t try to get to third base? Because I think they may be lying to you.” She mused, tone light as a slight smile twitched at the corners of her lips at the joke. “I told my daughter the same thing, that we’d only be here for an hour or so, and yet...” She looked back towards the group of playing children with a fond smile as her eyes quickly found the five year old. “We’ve been here for two and a half hours and counting. This will be our third hayride. I’m about this close to promising her I’ll buy her her own tractor to get out of here without a fuss.”
Being called Mr. Will was something that always made him chuckle, especially when it was Romy referencing the name her daughter called him. “You know I’m always down to hang out with you two.” He simply shrugged, his gaze scanning the fairgrounds for any sign of caramel apples. “I fucking hate mazes, but one of us should probably be in there in case she throws up all of that candy. Speaking of Candy, did she get any Kit Kats?”
“When I count to three we’re going to swing you, got it, B?” He gave a quick glance over to Romy, knowing full well that she wouldn’t love the idea of getting her daughter even more hyped up, but he wanted some sort of acknowledgment of participation. Will then looked down at Bianca, who had somehow over the years managed to bring out a playful side of him that was reserved strictly for her. Five year olds were easy to get along with, and sure, they judged appearances and asked weird and invasive questions at times, but they didn’t ask about adult things like death or relationships or work. By default, it made Bianca one of his favourite people. “One…two…three!” Once the countdown was done, Will lifted Bianca off the ground, swinging her forward before she was set back down on two feet. “That was practice for the bouncy castle. We’re gonna become the King and Princess of the castle, alright?”
—
Romy’s mouth opened to scold her neighbor for his language, but before she could her daughter’s small voice cut through the noise of the carnival, the scolding tone causing a smile to form on the mother’s features. ‘Mister Will! That’s a bad word!’ Glancing down to her daughter and then to Will, Romy’s shoulders shrugged as she did her best to hold in a laughter that was bubbling up from within her. “Please, she’s got an iron stomach. But if you want to crawl in there and jump around in your socks somewhere a bunch of kids have surely already puked, then please be my guest. But yeah, she got a few. Though I’m not sure she’ll share if you keep it up with that potty mouth of yours. Right Bee?” She asked her daughter with a soft chuckle as Bianca nodded her head enthusiastically.
As she momentarily locked eyes with Will, she squinted slightly in disapproval before the light smile was back on her features and she nodded, keeping her grip on her daughter’s hand as he counted down. She could see the excitement on Bianca’s face and for a moment, Romy was overwhelmed with gratitude for the people in her life who’d rallied around both her and her daughter to show them an amount of love Romy hadn’t quite realized existed in the world. Kindness she’d been devoid of throughout her own formative years. And it was all because of Luke. A man who’d brought nothing but light into her life, a man taken too soon. A man she was trying so hard to make proud, and in these moments she felt like maybe, just maybe she was succeeding. “Hold on tight, mi vida!” The sound of Bianca’s laughter as they lifted her up and swung her forward filled her heart with joy, her smile growing as she looked to will with faux offense. “Wait a minute, if you’re going to be the king and Bee is going to be the princess, does that mean I have to be the queen? Because, I mean, if I’m the queen of the castle then I guess that means I have to go inside with you guys, right?”
FOR: @rominalazar
WHERE: near the food stands for horror night.
“Okay, so I know since it is so close to Halloween, this isn’t your favorite kind of thing but that’s why I’m here.” He mused with promise. Always be there for the people that matter the most to you. She was definitely someone who fit into that category. So, he would bring it upon himself to do everything in his power so she wouldn’t ever feel alone or out of place. “How about I grab whatever kind of food you’re in the mood for and we can laugh at how easily people get scared from watching a scary film?” Ezra responded but not long before he pulled a larger can of Arnold Parmer from the inside of his jacket pocket. Then gifting his hand out for her to take the beverage. “Don’t worry there’s also a whole case in my car just for you.” It was always the little things that mattered.
—
Romy hated her birthday and Halloween, a single day that brought nothing but disappointment to her as a child. Her father, usually in prison, never bothered to call (not that their phone had been connected) and her mother had rarely been home to even acknowledge the birth of her only child. Instead of presents and parties and trick-or-treating and costumes, Romina spent most October 31′s eating a bologna sandwich in the dark. However, through all those years of darkness, Ezra had always been a bright spot. Her lifeboat amidst treacherous seas. He’d seen her through her darkest days and hadn’t ever forgotten her birthday. He was one of the few people she allowed to celebrate the day and one of the fewer people who could get her out of the house this time of year without her daughter. “You’re here to make me do things I hate?” She teased, nudging him gently with her elbow and a gentle smile. “Mm well considering I’m one of those people we’ll be laughing at, I’ll take you up on that offer and raise you-” She stopped as he pulled the Arnold Palmer from his jacket and a soft laugh left her lips as she took it, removing her hands from the pockets of her jacket as she wrapped one around his waist and in silent hug of gratitude. He always knew exactly what she needed. “A whole case just for me? Are you getting ready to ask me for a kidney or somethin’?” She teased, keeping her arm around him as she began heading towards a shawarma stand that had caught her attention.
“Wanna split some falafel?” She asked as they fell into the line. “Or would the beef and lamb shawarma go better with popcorn?”
The last three weeks without Romy were, well - shit. Bram was still proud of her though, for doing what she needed to ensure she lived a longer life than Luke had sadly gotten to. And that, she of course, took into consideration the well being of Bee. Both were very important to him and always would be. It’s why even though, he was in no mood to celebrate Halloween - he still made the effort to come for Romy and Bianca, who ditched them the second her cousins came into the picture. Little did Bram know, Bee’s absence set up the perfect backdrop for Romy to corner him in the middle of a corn maze where escaping questions and an obvious confrontation was bordering on the impossible. They’d already taken three wrong turns and were in no way closer to making it out of the maze than when they started.
“Ah, you know. Got into a barfight.” It was the worst lie he’s told yet but, given Romy’s own history with addiction and drugs - Bram was not about to unpack his own issues onto her. Even if the Sutherland’s have already tipped her off. There was no dismissing the strange and concerned looks they’d given him when he came to collect Bee for a day of fun and ice cream. He was sober when he picked her up but the moment he dropped her off, that sobriety went right out the window.
Pushing his way through rows of corn that further blocked their path, Bram tried to get away from their conversation or at the very least, tried turning his focus onto something else. But, it was Romy’s next question and her accusatory tone behind it that stopped him dead in his tracks. A sigh the size of Mount Everest rattled deep in the cage of his throat. This wasn’t supposed to be happening and quite frankly, he didn’t like where this impromptu interrogation was headed and would much rather she just drop it. “I’m not on anything. But, the way you’re looking at me right now is getting on my nerves so drop it.” He attempts to fob her off with a wave of his hand as he curses the line he snorted less than an hour ago which proves him a liar.
—
Romy followed him through the maze much like she had in the years they’d known each other, with blind trust, even when they made multiple wrong turns and hit dead ends. There was a part of her that wished she was still blinded by her confidence in him, in her need to lean on someone during her battle with her own demons he’d stepped up and been there more than she could have ever asked or expected of him, but that didn’t change the truth. Listening to him then, she could have sworn it was her voice leaving his lips. She’d repeated those words multiple times, to multiple people throughout her life and they’d always been a way of deflecting. They’d always been lies. And she was certain now more than ever that her parents had been right. They’d seen all the signs she had been too self absorbed to notice, and it’d only taken them a single interaction to notice. The guilt of that ate at her, but she pushed on. She had to. Romy cared far more for Bram than she did most people, and it was because of that she wasn’t going to let this go. She’d been in his shoes the majority of her life, she knew exactly what he was going through.. and yet, finding herself on the other side of the speech that was on the tip of her tongue proved to be more difficult than she could have ever imagined.
“Should have blamed it on a suspect during an arrest, would have sounded more believable.” Her tone was flat, eyes focused on his face as she took in every clench of his jaw and the way his eyes refused to meet hers. How had she missed this? She felt anger beginning to overtake the guilt that had taken up permanent residence in her gut and she sucked in a slow breath, counting to ten silently before exhaling even slower. She knew how she met the anger that often met an addict’s stubborn insistence that they didn’t have a problem, that they weren’t anything but sober. She wasn’t about to have that loud argument in the middle of the corn maze, but as she continued to follow next to him, his irritated tone and insistence on dropping the subject added another feeling to the tumultuous mixture within her. Fear.
As he waved his hand in an attempt to write her off, she reached out and closed her own hand around his, giving his palm a gentle squeeze. “Bram.” His name sounded foreign, a simple yet powerful plea for the truth even as her voice wavered. They didn’t lie to each other. That wasn’t their relationship. Or it wasn’t supposed to be. Clearly she’d been under the wrong impression for who knows how long now.
Clearing her throat, her grip on his hand tightened, tethering them together as her resolve strengthened. “No. I won’t drop it, so cut the bullshit and tell me the truth. Right now.”
how do i go on when my dreams are ripped and torn / i'm tired and i don't wanna fake it anymore / when it's all too much and i feel like i'm about to break / you always come around and the darkness fades away / every time i feel alone / like the walls are caving in / like i never win / like it's crawling under my skin / you're the antidote
WHO: @willteoh
WHERE: Mount Pleasant Monster Bash
Holding onto her daughter’s hand as they maneuvered their way through the crowd, the five year old dressed up as her favorite Disney princess- Elena of Avalor- kept surging forward in an attempt to get to the bouncy house faster. “Mija, be careful!” Her grip tightened on the five year old’s hand as she gently pulled her back to her side to keep her from colliding with a man on stilts. “Take Mr. Will’s hand, please.” She said sternly, which pulled an annoyed sigh from Bianca as she reached for Will’s hand and walked between the two adults, slowed to a pace that was satisfactory for the mother but seemed like being stuck in quicksand to the toddler.
“Thanks for coming.” Her attention turned to her neighbor now that her daughter was successfully corralled. “She’s all hopped up on Halloween candy and I don’t think I’d be able to keep up with her on my own.” Chuckling softly, the single mother dodged a child dressed like a ninja’s nun chucks as he waved them around while walking with his own family. “Think you’ll end up in the bounce house with her or was the maze enough for you?”
─── starter for @vancitystarters / capping at 4 replies
GHOST TOURS, THE ORACLE ─── Waiting on the tour to get underway, Angelia eyed the bus outside of the magic shop with curiosity. She hoped with all hope that it wasn’t going to be a ride where a guide pointed out the windows at specific things and told some stories. The only reason the superstitious woman had even signed up and headed to The Oracle where the tour was supposed to take off from was because she wanted the opportunity to walk through the laces around Vancouver that had the biggest histories and legendary spooks to them. “Have you ever done one of these before?” Angelia asked the person standing near her. “A ghost tour,” she clarified. “I’ve always wanted to but never wanted to mess with it.” No idea on why she had chosen to do it now. “Some advice— don’t go straight home from where the tour ends.”
—
How Romy ended up standing in line in front of a magic shop for a ghost tour she still wasn’t quite sure. Especially alone. She was supposed to come with her brother in law while her sister watched the kids, but he’d bailed last minute- something about an itchy throat that sounded like complete bullshit- and with nothing else to do, she’d come out anyway. “I haven’t, no.” She said, attention turning from scrolling through her phone to the woman standing in line in front of her. “To be honest, I don’t want to now but I’m here, so...” She shrugged her shoulders as she let out a quiet sigh, though her eyebrow quirked up at the other woman’s warning. “Why not? Going home right after this was what I was looking forward to.”
WHO: @suhanadhawan
WHERE: In Line for the Hayride
The things she did for her daughter. With a heavy sigh, Romy’s gaze stayed fixed on her five year old daughter who was currently running around with a gaggle of other children while their parents waited in line for the hayride. Her patience was running short, through no fault of her daughter or anyone really, but Halloween had never been an easy time of year for her. It’d always been full of disappointment, so much so that prior to having Bianca she refused to celebrate both the holiday and her birthday. But she was trying to forget all of that, leave the past in the past and create a better future for both herself and her daughter. But hayrides?
“I never understood the concept of the hay ride, you know?” She said to the woman next to her in the line. “I mean sure, it’s fun or whatever getting pulled around by a tractor and everything but hay is not comfortable. Just little spikes stabbing you in the as-- butt.” She quickly corrected herself, just in case Bianca could hear her. “I had half a mind to bring a pillow along since, for some reason, my daughter is obsessed with the hayrides. We’ve already been on it twice.”
Romy had been hesitant on coming out tonight. She didn’t want to leave her daughter, she’d done enough leaving in the past month, she’d spent enough time away from the five year old, but Bianca was currently tucked into bed and sound asleep. And as her sponsor pointed out, spending time with friends didn’t make her a bad mother. So after a bit of convincing (and a gentle shove out the door courtesy of her younger brother), Romy found herself leaning back on her hands on a blanket in the park, large screen playing a movie she truly had no interest in. “Do you think the soft pretzel line has died down yet?” She asked, leaning in closer to Thomas so she could be heard over the movie and the quiet buzz of conversation. “Because I’ll be honest, the company is great and all but I really only came so I could eat at least two giant soft pretzels with buckets of beer cheese.”
WHO: @bramwalsh
WHERE: Fall Harvest Carnival Corn Maze
Things hadn’t been alright for a long time. She hadn’t realized her drinking was a problem until she’d been staring her sponsor in the face with a bottle of tequila in her hand, swaying on unsteady feet not because of the boat but because of the alcohol she’d ingested. The look of disappointment and concern on their face had rivaled that of the Sutherland’s when she’d come home after a bender at 17, and it only got worse when they took her home and, in search of any hidden alcohol, found the baggie of cocaine she’d had hidden in her bedside drawer for two years. It was only then that she’d realized the hole she’d begun digging for herself, and it was her sponsor’s words that convinced her, in that moment, that something had to give. ‘So when will you stop, then? Once you’ve dug yourself six feet under, right next to your husband?’
That’s when it’d hit her. If she kept going down the path she was going, she’d end up just like her mother. She’d leave Bianca to face the world alone, just like her own mother had left her. But she’d made herself a promise a long time ago- she’d never do that to Bee. She’d always be there, always, and that meant she needed to get herself together. She needed to get help. For Bianca. For Luke. For herself. So after making sure Bee was safe with her parents, she went back to rehab. It was an intensive program, one where she wasn’t able to see anyone for the three weeks she was there, but she came out of it with a clearer head than she’d had since Luke’s death.
When her parents pulled her aside, she’d expected a lecture, the one she’d heard more times than she was willing to admit, about how they were worried and she should have come to them. Instead, they approached her about Bram. He and Bianca were so close, she didn’t want her issues to disrupt her daughter’s life more than they had already so she’d told her parents he’d be stopping by to pick their granddaughter up. She hadn’t expected their concerns. They’d grown good at spotting an addict and while the fading bruises on his face hadn’t been a good sign, they had other worries. Worries she listened to, took to heart, and led to her own introspection. She’d been so caught up in her own shit, had something this seriously really gotten past her? There was no other way to find out than to ask, so that’s exactly what she planned to do. When it came to her daughter, especially, there was no room for tip toeing around.
“So are you going to tell me about the bruises or am I going to have to add a few?” She asked as they made their way through the corn maze, hitting a dead end and turning around to find another avenue. She’d initially come to the carnival with Bianca and her sister’s family, evident by the cat ears she currently sported on her head, but the kids had run off together on the moon bounce and her sister had offered to watch them all. It gave her the perfect alone time with Bram to get to the bottom of things. It may have been a bit tactless, it may have been insensitive, but Romy needed answered. And mostly, she wanted to be wrong. “Or would you rather tell me about whatever it is you’re on?”
