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from her. She couldn't possibly have imagined it. It had only been a moment in time, but it had been one of the greats. Something she'd remember for a long time. One kiss, and no other guy would compare. It wasn't fair.
    About a month after graduation, she came home in the afternoon from working a breakfast shift at the diner. She grimaced at the sight in the living room. Her step-father in his boxer shorts, sitting on the couch spread-eagle while he snored away. Her mother was in a slip and she sat up as Dulcie entered the trailer.
    “Hey, baby! Glad yer home, I feel like I haven't seen you in ages,” her mother cooed as she climbed to her feet.
    Mrs. Bottle – formerly Mrs. Travers, formerly Mrs. Reid, formerly Tessa Banks – had the soft accent that was common in the area, yet had somehow missed her daughter. Not quite southern, but almost. Country, that's what Dulcie called it in her mind. A distinct twang. Not everyone had it, and she wasn't quite sure why that was, but her mother's family had lived in West Virginia for years. All the Banks' had it – Dulcie's grandpa's was so thick, sometimes he was hard to understand, but she loved it. Sometimes wished she had it. Wondered if it would soften her.
    “You saw me last night, Momma,” she sighed, keeping her head down as she headed towards the hallway.
    She hated looking at her mother because they looked very much alike. Her eyes, her lips, her hair color – her most distinct features, she'd gotten them all from her mother. Looking at Tessa Bottle, Dulcie felt like she was looking at her potential future, and it wasn't pretty.
    “I did?” Tessa sounded unsure. Dulcie wasn't surprised, the woman had been high out of her mind.
    “Yes. Look, I'm really tired. We can talk later, yeah?” Dulcie suggested, knowing full well that wouldn't happen. Later, Tessa would either be high, or busy “earning her keep”.
    “Sure, baby. Oh! You got a package. I left it on your bed,” her mother informed her.
    Dulcie froze for a second, then rushed down the hallway. Nothing was safe in the house, she never left anything private or worth money in her room. She wasn't expecting any packages, had no clue what it was, but knew it would draw unwanted attention.
    She wasn't wrong.
    “What are you doing!?” she shouted, bursting into her room just in time to see her half-brother Matt standing by her bed, shaking a brown box between his hands.
    “Wha'd you get?” he asked, holding the package up to his ear and shaking it harder.
    “How would I know? I haven't opened it. Get out of my room,” she demanded, hurrying around her bed and reaching for the box. Matt backed up and held it out of her reach.
    “Aw, c'mon, we're family. You have to share,” he teased, stepping backwards.
    “Give me the box, Matt,” she growled, reaching for it again.
    “Work for it, Dulcie.”
    She jumped up, trying to snatch the box, and he snaked an arm around her waist, yanking her close. She almost gagged as she fell against his bare chest. He was only wearing a pair of baggy jeans, showing off a sickly thin torso that was covered in misspelled tattoos. She forgot the package and tried to pull free from him, causing them to stumble across the room.
    “If you don't get your goddamn hands off me, I swear to god, I will -”
    “Mmm, Dulcie, you smell you good.”
    She felt his nose against her hair. Matt had always been … strange towards her. They'd never been close. He was eight years older than her, and when he'd been thirteen, he'd run away to live with his father. She'd only been five at the time. Then he'd shown back up when he was twenty-one, and she'd been thirteen. She'd never felt like he was her brother, and obviously, he felt the same way.
    I wish he would just overdose already and put himself out of my misery .
    They were near her door and Dulcie managed to wiggle an arm free of his grasp. She reached out and grabbed a piggy bank off her dresser, swinging it around and slamming it