Sincerely, yours

"Do we have everything?" Will — my fiancé — asks me the moment I step into my apartment. I furrow my eyebrows in frustration, knowing what he is talking about. My bones are tired and my feet ache from being on them all day.

"For the hundredth time, yes." I reply, throwing myself down onto the couch. Why is he even in my apartment?

"Less of the tone." He warns and I want to roll my eyes. I refrain from doing this of course, though I do love a good eye roll. It's just that my brain is too fried for arguments today.

"What are you doing here Will?" I ask him and I realise instantly how that must have sounded to him — good, but I won't admit that — especially when he gives me a weird look. "Not complaining, obviously."

He seems to like that last part and moves the suitcase that was once leaning against the wall, so that it is by his side. Huh, I guess I must have missed that.

"I told your mother that we would drive up there tonight." He replies and my eyes widen.

What the fuck.

He simply returns to whatever he was doing before, which happens to be cleaning up my school books from the table. He doesn't pay me any attention as he moves as though he owns the place. Which he doesn’t. Though I don’t really, not anymore anyway.

I watch as he does this, taking in his usual shirt and dress pants, and of course we can't forget the famous cardigan that is slung over his shoulders.

"Why would you do that? Without even discussing it with me first." I ask, my hands fly into the air in anger. That was not his decision to make.

"Because I didn't think it would be that big of an issue." He says with a simple shrug, brushing the whole thing off.

This angers me more, because he knows just how I feel about my mother and that city. Heck, I didn't really have a choice in the matter though did I? My mother likes to spread my business to everyone.

This is what I don't seem to understand; his controlling characteristics came out of no where.

Will and I met in college when I was nineteen and we originally started off as friends. I was mending a broken heart and he wasn't looking for anything other than friendship.

We were really close friends for around two years before he asked me on a date. We had spent so much time together that it honestly didn't surprise me when we started dating officially, and we've been together ever since.

I care about Will deeply, thought I hate myself for not being able to return his love.

I didn't know just how controlling Will could be however, not until we had been dating for around six months.

It started off small, him 'encouraging' me to dress a certain way, I didn't really think anything of it at the time. But then everything progressed.

Now, I can't have male friends because to him it's considered disrespectful, though tell him to stop being friends with even one female and your ears will be ringing for about a week, I can't go anywhere without him knowing exactly where it is and now apparently I can't even make my own decisions when it comes to my own mother.

But as always, I bite my tongue. A little, anyway.

"It should be my decision Will! I'm tired and I want to go to sleep, not spend four more hours in a bloody car!" His eyes snap towards mine and I can tell that he isn't happy in the slightest.

"It's too late to re-arrange now anyway." He states.

"The wedding isn't for another two weeks. My apartment isn’t ready for another week. We weren't due to leave for another two! I don't want to have to spend more time in that city before the move than what is necessary!" I yell but my heart begins to race.

That city was filled with too many memories. Memories I had spend the last five years trying to bury. But I had to move back, some things just didn’t go the way you wanted to.

"Your father is looking forward to seeing you." He tells me, completely disregarding everything I have said. My shoulders slump in exhaustion, Will knew that when it came to my father I would do just about anything to make him happy.

"Fine." I agree, breathing heavily as I try to contain my anger until it subsided.

"Are we taking my car?" He asks, though something in his tone tells me that he wasn't wanting an answer.

"No, lets take both." I tell him and watch as he frowns. "I want to take my dad out at some point so it'll be easier."

He seems satisfied with my answer which is a huge relief. "I'll go and put your case in your car then." He replies before going into my bedroom and returning with my pastel yellow suitcase.

"Thank you." I tell him and he kisses me quickly on his way out. As usual, I feel nothing and that troubles me.

The closer we get to Seattle, the more my stomach churned.

Four hours wasn't even close to the amount of time I would need to mentally and emotionally prepare myself for these next years of my life.

Two weeks, I needed another two weeks.

My mother and I didn't see eye to eye, we never have. Up until two months ago we spoke maybe about three times a year. I spoke to my father almost daily, and she came along when he visited but that was about it. Her and Will however, spoke at least once a week.

When I left Seattle five years ago I didn't leave on good terms with her. We had argued and cussed each other out, and I was beyond angry. I was heartbroken and emotional and at the time. I didn't want to leave.

Now I dreaded going back. I was scared to return to my childhood home. I was terrified to see the friendly faces but I was deathly afraid of the confrontation. I had left Seattle without saying Goodbye, gone overnight.

I stopped at the red lights just outside of the city’s border, resting my head on my hand.

I look up, noticing that there are only a few cars on the road, some probably just passing through. It’s unusual for a busy city like this, but I’m not complaining.

I hear it before I see it and my whole body freezes, my lungs seem to have stopped working and my hands feel clammy as they shake on the wheel.

The low rumble the Harley makes as it rolls up next to my car reminds me so much of my high school days.

Panic sets in as I stare at the biker, not being able to make out who it is because of their helmet. A voice in my head is silently screaming at the biker, telling him to turn his head but he doesn't.

And nor does he need to because when I catch sight of the badges on the front of his temporary patch, it doesn't read 'Vice President,' instead it reads 'Prospect.'

I'm sure you could visibly see my body relax and my heart rate became more calm and steady. The moment the lights turn green I put my foot down on the gas.

It only takes me another five minutes until I pass the bright, worn out 'Welcome to Seattle’ sign. For some reason it doesn't freak me out as much as I thought it would.

I'm surprised as I drive through my home neighbourhood — Will trailing behind me — because nothing appears to be different. The familiarity calms some of my nerves, thankfully.

The stores are all in the same places, only a few new bars or restaurants here and there, car lots are the same and even my old high school.

I drive past a few familiar houses too, old friends.

Once I pull up in my parents driveway I switch off the engine and just sit in silence. The clock reads 10:14 pm. I've been driving for four hours straight and my joints ache from sitting in the same position for so long.

A tap on my window pulls me back into reality and I jump in surprise. Will stands there with a confused look on his face and I step out of the vehicle, walking to the trunk to get my case, locking the car behind me.

Will is now standing by my parents large white front door, his suitcase by his feet. I trudge up the path to join him, raising my hand to knock but I'm beaten to it when Will rings the doorbell.

I roll my eyes, waiting for the door to open. The moment it does my mothers sharp eyes trail down my attire, not bothering to hide her disapproval nor does she bother to even say a simple Hello first.

"Erin, you couldn't have attempted to dress even a little bit more decent? And look at your hair!" She snaps and I huff. I already felt like I was back in high school.

I look down at my clothes, seeing nothing wrong with my sundress and flats. And my hair is in two french braids, what's wrong with that?

"I had literally only gotten back from the hospital like ten minutes before we left mother." I reply, hating that she still tries to dictate me even now.

"Yes, well." She mutters before her eyes turn to Will. As usual, her eyes soften and she gives him a friendly smile.

"William, honey," she says as she embraces him and I want to fake gag, but that's considered childish. "How are you?"

"I'm good carol, how are you?" He replies. I don't want to wait and listen to the rest of their conversation, so I simply grab my suitcase and step right past them and into the house.

Ditching my luggage at the bottom of the staircase, I go on the hunt for my father. As I go through the house I catch sight of all the familiar photos that hang from the walls in their overly— expensive frames.

I laugh to myself, remembering that there are approximately forty seven framed photographs throughout the house and only one of them hold my image. But it's okay, because my image happens to be the only framed photo in my fathers study and that brings a smug smile to my face.

Screw you Rebecca.

I take a step into the main sitting room, taking in the new decor. It's ugly, but my mother calls it "rich and proper."

"It really is hideous, isn't it?" That all too familiar voice says from somewhere and I spin around to see the lean figure standing in the doorway.

He held his arms open for me and I flung myself into them, careful as not to knock him off of his feet.

"God, I've missed you." I say as my father chuckles lightly.

"I've missed you too, Carrot." I groan at the nickname.

"I thought we talked about that." I grumble as we pull away. "I'm twenty three dad."

"Still my baby carrot." He mutters but as much as I hate the nickname, I find myself smiling anyway.

"How've you been sweetheart?" He asks me once he's sat himself in his chair. It's an old brown recliner that does not go with the decor but my dad has had that thing for years, there's no way he would give it up now.

"I'm doing okay, I'm really enjoying working at the hospital. But it was my last day there today, I don’t start at the hospital here for another two months.” I tell him which causes him to smile.

"Of course you are," he says. "You're the best damn doctor I know."

I giggle at his enthusiasm. "I'm literally just an intern right now dad."

He rolls his eyes at my reply. "Don't ruin my dream Carrot. So the hospital allowed you to transfer without much hassle them?"

I sigh as I swipe my hand across my temple. "Yeah, though they said it'll probably set me back a little, considering it's so last minute. I had to call them from the car and make up some family emergency. It wasn’t supposed to be my official last day until next week.”

"You'll be okay, I'm proud of you." He tells me as he places his hand on my shoulder.

“Thanks dad.” I tell him, smiling widely at him. This man never fails to make me smile.

“All packed, boxed up and ready for the big move then?” He asks me and I nod. “Good. I’m sorry I had to drag you back here Erin, I know this isn’t your favourite place.”

I frowned slightly, the atmosphere around us changing quickly. I can feel the burn in the back of my eyes and in my nose, but I choose to ignore it. “You know that I would do anything for you dad, this isn’t your fault okay?”

“I know sweetheart. I just hate this sometimes. Scratch that, all the time.” He sighs.

“Me too.” I whisper.

We continue to make conversation, having no idea where my mum and Will had gotten off to.

"Did you bring that prick with you?" My dad suddenly asks, referring to Will and I choke on my water.

"Yes, mother insisted and Rebecca invited him to the wedding."

"I hate him." My father states and I laugh at his expression, he had never liked him even when we were friends.

"He's my fiancé dad." I watch him pout like a child.

"Still hate him.”