Christine met Charles while she was attending medical school. They were in a local coffee shop and Christine was in her scrubs. Charles took this as an opportunity to introduce himself, noted her scrubs, and regaled her about his broken bones, and intense sickness, among other things. Typically, she'd be repulsed by a stranger, but Charles was charming, funny, and an eye-catcher. Tall, brunet, clearly worked out. She giggled, gave him her number, and the rest is history. Their love blossomed into a beautiful, bountiful garden. Their love was innocent and unbreakable. Always on each other's side, resting on one another if they needed it. They bought a house together in suburbia with the classic white picket fence. And when they were ready, they had two beautiful children, first a son, Eric, and then a daughter, Kayla, they loved and cherished like the moon.
However, their fairy-tale book would close prematurely when Charles was instantly killed in a fatal vehicular accident. Eric and Kayla were still children, 10 and 7, unfortunately old enough to remember in vivid detail. Awestruck, the newly widow Christine buried herself in her work as a nurse at their local hospital. She knew she had to, or else she'd become behind on her mortgage and monthly bills. Most of the time the kids were alone by themselves, and Christine hated it more than how short her deceased husband lived. As soon as she could afford it, she'd hire a babysitter to watch them after she left. She worked the night shift, but once they grew into late middle school, she'd switch towards day shift.
When their mother wasn't around at home, Eric and Kayla would act responsibly and fair, always keeping their mom in mind. They understood how tough their father's death had been on her, and worse she has to support herself and them. At first, it was the painful torture in her tired eyes. The extra long hugs she'd give them before dropping them off at school. They were very mature and empathetic in their adolescent stage. They'd eat the food mom made them for the afternoon and the snacks she bought. Clean after their messes. More often than not they treated each other with lots of love and respect you wouldn't expect from child siblings. Christine was blessed with her little miracles.
Then middle school happened, and it slightly changed the narrative.
Eric would spend more time in his room, isolated on his computer playing games with friends, while Kayla would constantly bitch about the things she didn't have, but her friends did. Kayla developed a tooth for finery and the most unnecessarily expensive things. It would drive Christine mad on the rare occasion she was home. She'd let everything slip, the eye rolls, the yelling matches, the attitude they'd give their mother; when all she wanted was to spend time with her children and watch a movie. Out of desperation, stress, and tiredness, she'd take even more hours at the hospital, hoping by the time she comes back, things will have simmered down and they'll be the little angels they were before middle school. Things did simmer down, but not the way Christine would expect.
After a normal high school day, 18 year old Kayla hopped off the bus and came home to the empty, big shell she was accustomed to. She closed the door behind her, locked it, and dropped her bag on the console table, and kicked off her sneakers next to the door. She went upstairs, hearing her 21 year old, shirtless brother on his headset talking to his friend. She smirked, she's got him this time for what he did to her while she was on the phone with Christie. She snuck into his room. The only light being emitted was from the LEDs from behind the monitor and the monitor itself that Eric was mindlessly glued to. He was entranced as Kayla crawled underneath his desk and slowly pulled down his stained sweatpants. A jolt ran through Eric, shrieking a bit, and was laughed and mocked by his friends. Eric mouthed to her no, don't you fucking dare, but Kayla smiled enthusiastically, jerking his sweatpants down to his ankles.
