Chapter 1
Richie’s POV
I trudge down the sun-scorched streets of Seattle, my backpack slung over one shoulder. The summer heat is relentless, and sweat trickles down my back, making my shirt cling to my skin. My damp hair sticks stubbornly to my forehead, but I barely notice. My mind is too clouded, too overwhelmed by what just happened.
I got kicked out. My own family threw me out like I was nothing. It still doesn’t feel real. I should have seen it coming—all the little signs were there—but I was too naive to believe they’d actually do it.
6 months earlier
I jolt awake to the shrill ringing of my phone. Disoriented, I grope around for it on my nightstand. The screen flashes Nikki’s name—my sister. My stomach tightens. She never calls this early.
“Richie!” Her voice is frantic, choked with emotion. “You need to come home now. Dad... Dad passed away.”
My heart stops. “What? What are you talking about? I just spoke to him yesterday. He was fine.”
“He was in an accident this morning,” she says, her voice breaking. “Check the news...”
My hands tremble as I fumble to open the news app. A headline jumps out at me: Local Businessman Dies in Tragic Car Crash. I click on it, barely able to read through the blur of my tears.
James Owens, 52, was involved in a fatal collision early this morning...
I don’t finish reading. The phone slips from my grip, hitting the floor with a dull thud. This isn’t happening. This can’t be real.
The next few days pass in a blur. The funeral. The condolences. The weight of grief pressing down on my chest like a boulder. But as painful as losing Dad is, I don’t realize that my real nightmare is only just beginning.
It starts with whispers behind closed doors, stolen glances between my mother and older brother, Alex. Then come the arguments—subtle at first, but growing louder, more accusatory.
“Richie, you need to get your life together,” Alex snaps one evening, his tone sharp with irritation. “You can’t just drift through life without a plan.”
“I’m in college, Alex. I am trying.” I don’t know why I feel the need to defend myself, but I do.
“Dad isn’t here to bail you out anymore,” he says coldly. “You need to start pulling your weight.”
That’s when I begin to realize—I don’t belong here anymore. Without Dad, my place in this family is slipping away like sand through my fingers.
And then, today happened.
Mom couldn’t even look at me when she said it. “Richie, I think it’s time you found your own way. We just... we can’t support you anymore.”
The words hit harder than a slap. My own mother, the woman who used to tuck me in at night and tell me everything would be okay, is now telling me to leave.
So here I am, walking through the scorching streets of Seattle, with nowhere to go and a storm of emotions swirling inside me.
I don’t know what comes next. But one thing is clear: I am alone.
