Ch. 1

The key turned with a satisfying click, and the door to apartment 2B swung inward with a creak that mirrored the flutter in my chest. Stepping over the threshold, I was enveloped by the sight of my new sanctuary. The afternoon light seeped through the blinds, casting striped shadows on the hardwood floor and illuminating the chaos of boxes and unassembled furniture that promised days of scavenger hunts for screws and bookends.

"Home sweet home," I murmured, my heart drumming a nervous rhythm against my ribs. Excitement laced with trepidation twirled through me, like the first time I'd beaten an epic boss in a video game—except this challenge didn't come with a reset button.

I placed the large box down with a grunt, smiling as I peered around at my new home. My home is now a small apartment above the Cafe that I have worked at since I was sixteen years old called Sip 'N' Dippity, owned by Teresa Montgomery, a forty-five-year-old widow and also the mother of my brother's best friend, Seth.

I turn towards the open door of my apartment as my brother Landen steps through the door, holding one end of my new futon bed that doubles as a couch.

"Where do you want this, Lore?" he asks as he makes his way inside.

I look around and then point to the long wall on the left so that I can set up my TV on the opposite wall; a nice giant rug would look good in the center.

"Place it over there on that side," I say as the person holding the other side of the futon steps through.

"I still can't believe you asked my mom if you could live up here when you have a perfect basement bedroom at your house…" says Seth Fraiser, Landen's best friend, as he helps Landen lower the futon where I asked.

I look at my brother, who is already six foot two at eighteen years old, with short blonde hair and blue eyes; with his height and broad shoulders, he was the star quarterback in high school until we all graduated a few months ago.

Next, I look over at Seth with his dark brunette hair, dark tanned skin from his Native American heritage, brown eyes, lean muscles, and stood at six feet tall. He, too, played football and was really popular; every girl in high school had a crush on him, but I found him annoying. He was always picking on me and liked to make fun of my height at only five foot three.

"I moved in here because I was ready to have my own place; this place is dirt cheap and very close to work," I say with a shrug, "Now I can play as many videogames and stay up as late as I want to without hearing my parents nag all the time."

"They wouldn't nag if you didn't stay up all night and didn't waste your life away playing video games," says Landen with a roll of his eyes.

"Leave her alone, Landen," says the voice of my youngest brother as he walks through the door carrying a trash bag full of clothes.

"Logan! We told you that you didn't need to help carry stuff in!" Yells Landen as he rushes to grab the bag of clothes.

Landen, Logan, and I are a set of fraternal triplets. Our parents tried everything they could to have a kid but ended up having to use artificial insemination to get pregnant and ended up pregnant with not one or two babies but three!!

It's hard to believe, but I was born first, Landen second, and Logan was born last. Where Landen was born with good looks, I ended up with long chestnut-colored hair, hazel eyes, pale skin, stocky and curvy too. Logan had short, curly chestnut-colored hair that tended to fall in his green eyes that were framed by a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, pale skin, and was slightly plump from all the meds he was forced to take and stood at five foot ten". 

Landen was very athletic, and Logan was a sickly child born with an autoimmune disease and was allergic to almost everything. He was forced to always carry an eppy pen and his inhaler everywhere he went. But when he wasn't jumping from one doctor to another, he was studying robotics with his intelligent mind and was planning to go to college this fall to be a robotic engineer. Landen is going to start college at the University Of Maine and is playing college football for the Black Bears.

I loved my brothers, but they stole all the attention from our parents growing up, and I was always left with my grandparents or by myself, I was always average in everything I did and never seemed to step out from my brother's shadows. 

There were many times when I was jealous of my brothers; over time, I became reclusive, independent, and introverted. Books and video games became my escape and my refuge. 

Logan sighed as Landen took the bag of clothes with a shake of his head, then looked around the tiny apartment before turning to look at me, "Are you sure this is what you want, Loretta?" 

I took a look around at my apartment, which was so small that there was only room for a futon, a TV that I planned to mount to the wall, a small round table with two mismatched chairs that I found at a thrift shop, a small kitchenette with a small stove, a microwave, and a fridge. The bathroom only had a stand-up shower, a toilet, and a small pedestal sink. It was all one person ever really needed, plus the rent was dirt cheap. 

"I'm sure this is what I want, Logan. I'm ready to try being on my own," I replied with a shrug, 

"Seth and I can grab the rest of the boxes from my truck," says Landen, "Why don't you and Logan start unpacking these boxes?" 

"I guess I can do that," I said with a shrug, then turned to Logan, "Do you mind helping me, little brother?" 

Logans sighed with a roll of his eyes but nodded anyway, "Yes, I can help. What would you like me to do?" 

"Umm," I looked around, where should I start? 

With a shrug, I pointed toward the bookshelves I bought on Amazon, "Help me put those shelves together, and then we can start unpacking the books." 

The cardboard beneath my fingers crinkled stubbornly as I wrestled another stack of books onto the empty shelf. "Fantasy" was up first, and I couldn't suppress the grin that curled at the idea of my own little magical realm forming within these four walls.

As the sounds of persistent unpacking filled the room. Landen lifted a particularly bulky side table, muscles flexing—a clear testament to his football training—while Seth juggled a lamp base and shade like they were part of his daily routine at Sip'n'Dippity.

"Where do you want this, Lore?" Seth called out, using the nickname he knew, irked me slightly, his lips curved upward in a teasing smirk.

"Next to the couch, please," I answered, rolling my eyes but unable to truly mind. These two were my solid ground, even when everything else shifted.

While they maneuvered furniture with the ease of long-time friends used to each other's rhythms, I turned my attention back to my collection. The spines of the books lined up like colorful soldiers awaiting their orders, and I found myself getting lost in the titles, the memories each one held. It wasn't just the stories inside that captivated me; it was the countless hours spent in other worlds, the comfort of knowing I could visit them anytime, right here in my new sanctuary.

"Is there a method to this madness, or are you just winging it?" Seth asked, peering over my shoulder at the rows of books and video games that were slowly taking shape.

"Alphabetical by genre," I replied, not looking up from the task. "And it's not madness. It's precision."

"Precision," Landen echoed from across the room, a hint of laughter in his voice. "That's one word for it."

"Keep laughing," I warned half-heartedly, though the corners of my mouth betrayed my mock annoyance. "You're both just jealous of my organizational skills."

"Absolutely," Seth agreed, grinning broadly as he looked around at the still-upended apartment. "Pure envy."

They carried on with the heavy lifting, while I arranged my treasures, each book and game finding its perfect place. This was more than just setting up an apartment; it was the crafting of a refuge. A place where every shelf, every title, every digital adventure was a piece of the puzzle that was me, Loretta Silverstone, standing on the threshold of independence and ready to embrace whatever lay ahead.

"Hey, Loretta, do you remember that treehouse we built when we were kids?" Landen mused, as plopped down on the futon for a much-needed break, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"The one that nearly fell apart the first time we climbed up?" I laughed, the memory vivid in my mind—the feel of rough wood under my hands, the smell of summer leaves, and the sound of our laughter, bright and fearless.

"Hey, it stayed up long enough for us to camp out in it that night," Seth pointed out, a hint of pride in his voice. "We were pretty awesome engineers for a bunch of ten-year-olds."

"Engineers or not, Mom was furious when she found out," I reminded them, chuckling. "We were grounded for weeks."

"Totally worth it," Landen said, and we all nodded, caught up in the sweet nostalgia of those simpler times.

Those times felt both distant and close, a reminder of bonds that didn't fade with age or distance. Here we were, years later, still together, still part of each other's lives. As much as I craved my independence, these moments with them were threads I wasn't ready to cut—not now, maybe not ever.

"Thanks, you know," I said softly, meaning every word. "For helping me with the move. I couldn't have done it without you guys."

"Always," Seth replied, and Landen echoed the sentiment with a simple nod.

This was it—the beginning of something new, exhilarating, and a tad terrifying. But as I stood there, flanked by the two who knew me best, I felt an overwhelming sense of contentment. It was the close of one chapter and the eager anticipation of the next, all wrapped up in the promise of tomorrow.

"Here's to new beginnings," I said, raising an imaginary glass to the bustling street below.

"New beginnings," they echoed, and we shared a smile, our trio complete in this moment of transition.

"Alright, sis," Landen said, ruffling my hair with a grin that was too cheerful for anyone who wasn't on the verge of starting college football. "We're gonna take off. You know, let you make this place truly yours."

"Be sure to call if you need us," Seth chimed in, his voice teasing but eyes serious—a testament to the concern he usually cloaked in jokes.

As the sound of their footsteps faded away, I turned back to my apartment and couldn't help but feel the weight of their absence. It was just me now, standing amid the chaos of half-empty boxes and furniture waiting to find its place. I took a deep breath, the silence enveloping me like a new chapter waiting to be written.

My gaze wandered over the cardboard landscapes, each box a treasure trove of memories and dreams yet to unfold. There was my collection of fantasy novels, side by side with strategy guides for video games, relics from countless hours spent in other worlds.

With each step I took, the wooden floor creaked its approval, embracing me as one of its own. Here, in this space, I was the architect of my own destiny, free to carve out my niche in a world that had often felt unwelcoming.

"Okay, Loretta Silverstone," I whispered to myself, a smirk playing on my lips. "Time to make this place your fortress of solitude—or at least somewhere you can kick back and not worry about tripping over boxes."

The room seemed to echo back a challenge, and I accepted it wholeheartedly. I rolled up my sleeves, my petite frame bracing for the task ahead. Resilience surged through me, fueled by the independence I'd yearned for and fought to attain.

"Let's do this," I said, a quiet determination settling over me as I began to unpack my life, piece by piece, into the cozy nook that would become my sanctuary.

I gripped the edges of a box with a grunt as its cardboard flaps stubbornly resisting before giving way. A soft chuckle escaped my lips as I fished out a collection of weathered action figures from my childhood, each one a silent guardian of bygone days. They found their place on the shelf, standing sentinel over this new chapter.

"Guess you're still watching over me, huh?" I mused to the miniature heroes, feeling the familiar warmth of nostalgia wash over me.

The last few items were like puzzle pieces, and I relished in the satisfaction of finding their perfect spot. There was the ceramic dragon, a gift from my first day at Sip'n'Dippity, now perched atop a stack of art books, its wings unfurled as if ready to take flight into the unknown realms of my imagination.

I stepped back, hands resting on my hips, surveying the room that had been an echo of emptiness just hours before. Now, it was alive with fragments of my soul, each nook and cranny infused with my essence. The weight of accomplishment settled on my shoulders, not heavy but empowering, whispering promises of endless possibilities.

"Look at you, all grown up and making a home," I said to myself, the words tinged with pride and a hint of disbelief.

A sunbeam caught my attention as the sun began to set, casting the room in an eerie red beckoning me to the window. Pushing aside the curtain, I leaned on the sill, my eyes drinking in the view. The streets below pulsed with the heartbeat of the city, people bustling about their lives, each with their own stories, their own adventures.

"Out there is your next big quest, Loretta," I whispered, anticipation skittering like electricity through my veins. "No strategy guide for this one, though."

The cacophony of life outside was a stark contrast to the tranquility within my walls. It was daunting yet exhilarating, and I knew that the thrum of energy from the world beyond my window would soon call me to join its dance.

"Ready or not, here I come," I declared, more to the city than to myself. With a deep breath, I felt the last tendrils of hesitation slip away, leaving behind a fierce readiness to leap into the fray.

And so, standing there, gazing at the life that awaited me, I realized that every challenge, every opportunity was a chance to prove to myself—and maybe to the world—that Loretta Silverstone was a force to be reckoned with, a player in the grand game of life, ready to roll the dice and see where they landed.

As the light began to fade outside, casting a warm glow across my small haven, I let my eyes wander over the carefully placed consoles, the controllers lined up like soldiers ready for battle. They were more than just games; they were portals to adventures that demanded nothing from me but the willingness to dive in headfirst.

And there it was—that sense of peace washing over me again, like the gentle tide of an ocean at dusk. The solitude didn't feel lonely; it felt like a luxurious expanse of time and space that was all mine to fill or leave blissfully empty.

"Here's to you, Loretta Silverstone," I toasted silently, raising an imaginary glass to the future. "May your quests be epic and your loot legendary."

With a final contented sigh, I settled deeper into my chair, the last of the day's energy leaving me in a soft exhale. The night ahead promised nothing but the quiet company of my thoughts, the stories waiting to unfold at the turn of a page or the press of a button, and the comforting knowledge that this, at last, was a place that felt like home.