Psyche was currently staring at the ceiling, lost in her thought. She was presiding in her large apartment, where she lived with her parents. The confident and pretty lawyer, Daisy Rosehill. And the prideful and tall businessman, Asmodeus Rosehill.
Psyche sat up from her couch, and had the sudden urge to go to 'that' room. And so she did, walking to their room. The same one where they would leave the door open and where they would take out their stress on their kin.
When it first happened, she was a six year-old, and she was scared. Very scared. She had made a friend in first grade, and her name was May. She was super happy, so when Psyche went home, she wanted to tell her parents badly.
But when she did get home after carpool, her dad had just lost a contract, and her mother had just lost a client. They were really stressed out, and lost a decent sum of money.
"Mommy! I made a new friend named May, and she's super nice!" Psyche unknowingly slammed open the door to her home, with a bright smile on her face. It immediately fell when she saw a strange bottle of grape juice, which she identified as wine later, in her mother's hand. Her dad was sitting on his chair with the tips of his fingers pressed against his forehead.
"Mommy? Daddy?" Psyche recalled the last time she would say those words.
At first, it was an accident, in which her mother apologized for and her father patched her up. But then more and more 'accidents' occured, and she knew that it wasn't an accident anymore.
Psyche let out a sigh as she curled up on their old bed. Why am I thinking about this, they were two pieces of shits.
The even more frustrating part was that everytime she was trying to burn them out of her life or forget them, the annoying good memories came up, like when her mother cooked for her when she got home, and when her father ruffled her hair whenever she showed them a good grade.
I was too naive back then. Stop being such a dramatic ass. She told herself, mentally slapping herself on the head. She had to remind herself that what's done is done, and nothing could change what happened, or what imprint her parents made on her life.
Ring ring ring! Without warning, her loud phone rang from the kitchen, shocking her out of her thoughts. She grabbed her pounding heart, which was jumpscared when the peaceful yet unwanted silence that filled her lonely apartment was broken with an unnecessarily loud ringtone.
"Ugh you mother--" She stopped herself as she rolled off the bed onto her feet, and hastily walked towards her phone which was on the counter.
She eyed the caller id when she picked it up, but it said it was unknown. So she decided to ignore it, and put her phone on silent.
She smiled bitterly to herself, shaking her head as she dropped herself onto the couch and turned on the TV.
That was until Psyche heard her phone vibrate multiple times, still loud. She was now irritated, and she could blame her angry nature for that. Begrudgingly, she shuffled to her phone, and snatched it off the counter to a screen filled with unanswered text messages. The messages were a mix of utility companies demanding bills to be paid, and that same unknown id.
Peaked with curiosity that her energy couldn't afford, she tapped on the unknown id messages, and started reading.
xXXxxX: Hello, this is Atlas Meringue, Division X of the U.S. government. Is this the contact of Miss Rosehill?
Psyche flinched and raised an eyebrow when she saw her last name in the text. Is this a scam? She subconsciously thought, tapping her foot impatiently.
xXXxxX: If this is Miss Rosehill, please respond so I can give you your corresponding information.
Was her mother related to the government? Perhaps she worked with them? But that doesn't make sense, because she was a lawyer and spent all of her time either loving her similar husband, working on a case, or beating Psyche and then apologizing with a delicious meal.
Psyche knew it was probably for her mother, or even a completely different person with a coincidental last name, yet why did she feel the intrigue to answer?
Filled with slight anxiety, her heart thumping out of thrills, she slowly typed on her keyboard.
Psyche: This is Miss Rosehill. Corresponding information to what?
xXXxxX: I'll send a file over immediately. The general information for our meeting is Tuesday, 12:00 on September 18th, 2020, at Pier 42 in Warehouse 7b. We look forward to your cooperation.
Psyche was stupefied by this sudden situation that she had gotten herself into. And what confuzzled her more was the fact that she had the urge to actually attend this strange and sketchy meeting from this scammer.
But what if it's not a scammer? A voice was telling Psyche as she slowly made her way to one of her mother's boxes. She kept debating to herself whether or not she should go, but at the end, her thoughts contradicted her actions as she pulled out her mother's old laptop, and typed in her password.
Her password was quite obvious, considering she wanted to put on a fake show even when it came to private information, so it was naturally her's, her husband's, and Psyche's years of birthdays mixed. She clicked her tongue at that.
The first thing Psyche did was open the web browser, and opened her email, which was thankfully already signed in. She then dragged the mouse over to the newest email from an Atlas Meringue, which she then obviously read. Purely out of curiosity.
But what Psyche didn't realize was that her heart was beating not only out of thrill, but excitement, excitement of a change, and maybe even the excitement of getting to know her own mother more. Perhaps that's why she was in denial.
After reading through the email, Psyche got the gist of what her mother was involved in. She first confirmed it had to do with her mother, in which Daisy Rosehill had volunteered in this unclear government project for fifty thousand bucks. Psyche rolled her eyes at this. Way to go mom. You signed up for a shady project that will probably sell your kidneys.
She also learned the names of some of the people there, including Colonel Blanche (probably a code name), Atlas Meringue, some other random people, and to Psyche's surprise, Narcissus Devoin.
"What the…" She mumbled under her breath as she reached for her phone, only to pause. She was going to ask him why she was involved in some shady project, but then realized she didn't have his number. She cursed under her breath, and cursed again when she realized she cursed because of a random guy on a rooftop she met just because she didn't have his number.
"Well I'm going," She told herself, or the thin air, as if trying to convince someone, like herself for example. She couldn't differentiate between the two, especially when she felt like she was going delirious.
Psyche knew one thing, however, and that was something to distract her from her shitty life.
So instead of viewing this as a scam, she saw this as a sketchy opportunity.
And she was sure as hell going to take it.