TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.
chapter one:
➴ warnings: shitty mom.
➴ word count: 2.6k
➴ author’s note: and finally, the first chapter of TYPA is here. i wanted to post this only when i had at least the first five chapters ready so you guys wouldn’t wait too long for updates, so thank u all for waiting. again, i cannot stress this enough: read the story’s warnings before reading the story!!! aaand i love u all!!! (also thank u for 200+ followers? insane!)
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2024, MARCH
YOUR ALARM went off at half past five, and you grunted, smacking it with your right hand, trying to make it stop yelling.
After you turned it off, you laid your bed on your pillow again, sighing. Turning your head to the side, you watched as Bella snored like she paid all of your bills and worked a nine to five everyday. You smiled, happy to see her so relaxed.
You got up, put on your slippers and walked to your bathroom, turning on the lights and regretting immediately after, because your eyes took a long time to adjust to the bright, white light.
You opened the tap, putting in warm water and gently wetting your face, before closing it and grabbing your cleanser and starting your morning skincare routine.
Even though you loved to stay in bed, there was something about the early hours of the day. You could go on with your morning with no one bothering you, just working on the steps of completing your morning routine with ease, while the world was still asleep outside— even though Los Angeles never got entirely asleep.
You can wash your face and apply your moisturizer, before stepping in the shower after letting your skin absorb the products. Then, you can scrub your body and exfoliate it, humming to this week’s top song on Spotify charts. You can dry yourself with your fluffiest towel, smear your skin with your favorite vanilla scented body lotion and perfume.
Then, you can wake Bella up, and force her to leave your bed so you can make it. She’ll growl and bark at you, but in the end she’ll be too eager to go outside to do anything else.
You’ll change into your outfit of the day, something cozy, and grab your keys before leaving the house with Bella by your side, taking her to the dog park your apartment complex has, and let her enjoy the synthetic grass while you stare at her, smiling from ear to ear.
You’ll both stay there for ten minutes, with you talking to her about everything and anything, while she sniffs around the place and answers your yapping with occasional barks.
Then, you’ll call her name and go back to your place, starving for food. You’ll make your breakfast, nothing too heavy— a cup of green tea and a yogurt bowl.
You’ll leave your house at sometime around seven a.m., after grabbing everything you’ll need for the day and saying goodbye to Bella, telling her that her dog sitter, Carly, will be there in just a few hours. You’ll get into the car your agency sent to you, greeting the driver and sitting in the back, checking the texts on your phone. And then, you will feel your heart stop inside your chest, because—
What the hell does she want? You thought, squeezing your phone so hard between your hands that, for a second, you thought you’d actually break it.
You haven’t seen your mom in a year. Or your family, for that matter. Your parents, your brother and Canada felt just like a distant, hurtful memory that you wanted to keep away from yourself, buried deep inside your heart.
After making your teenage years feel like hell, and after making you hate yourself in more ways you’d ever think possible, your mom got you signed at the most prestigious modeling agency in all LA, IMG Models. Some people online talked about how you were only the cover of last year’s VOGUE because you’re basically a Nepo Baby, and even though your social media team did their best to debunk those comments, you knew— everyone did— that they were right: you only reached the top that fast because you are the daughter of the editor-in-chief of Fashion and retired model, Jessica Carter.
Not that you weren’t pretty, no, you were. But your last name opened more doors for you than your face and body ever would.
But at the end, you were grateful to be living a normal life— as normal as it could get— away from Canada. That country held painful memories and people that you would much rather watch from afar.
You didn’t reply to her text, you didn’t need to. She made it very clear that your attendance wasn’t an option. Even at twenty-two years old, your mom would always have the final word.
You arrived on set ten minutes after reading that text, sad to have your good mood ruined. But you still had a long day of work ahead of you, so you should just do what you’re best at: pretending you’re fine.
You spent your entire morning at a photoshoot for Elle, posing for infinite pictures and changing as fast as you could, while trying your hardest not to focus on your mom’s text.
Glad to be working with people who were actually nice, you slipped into your work headspace and when you checked your phone again, it was lunch time.
Grabbing the biggest salad from the agency’s restaurant, you ate with no hunger or pleasure. Thinking of your life back in Canada made you sick.
After lunch, you were sent to another location so they could take more pictures of you, the photographer, Garret, making sure to get the right photos of you.
At six, you were ready to head back to home, but unfortunately, part of your job meant interacting with people on social media. Sometimes answering questions online, making TikToks or even posting on Instagram.
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maddiecarter
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“ARE YOU leaving already, darlin’?”
Nicholas’ voice echoed as you bend over to grab your purse.
Looking at him, you smiled, tiredly. “Yes, hum. Actually, I need to talk to you about something,” you took a step further, stopping in front of the man you've known as your boss the past four years.
“Yeah, go ahead.” He leaned against the wall, waiting.
“I need to have Friday off,” you started, biting your lip. “It’s a family thing. Promise I’ll be back on Monday.”
“Madison, you’re literally the only model here who hasn’t missed a work day for an entire year, maybe even more than that,” he laughs, blond hair moving as his head turns around. “If you want to take the entire week off, you’re allowed to.”
A week in Toronto? No, thank you.
“No, I just need Friday.” You replied, adjusting your bag on your shoulder.
“You’re free to go, my love. Send kisses to your mom, okay? Tell her to visit us sometime.”
“Of course, thank you.” You kissed his cheek quickly before heading back to the elevator.
On your way home, you thought about all of the things your mom might want of you. Sure, she said that she wanted the family to get together and all of that, but you’re sure there’s more to that. She wouldn’t make you fly to Canada just because she wants to have dinner with you. She’s just not that kind of person.
Entering your apartment, the first thing you did after removing your shoes was go looking for Bella, who had somehow managed to lock herself inside the guest's bathroom, and was whining loudly.
“Naughty, naughty girl,” you kissed her, petting her fur gently. “How did you even do that?”
She just licked you and you sighed, the long hours of work finally hitting you completely. You just needed to shower, drink your daily glass of warm milk and play with Bella for a while before going to bed.
Locking away all thoughts related to Canada, you followed your night routine like you’d usually do, trying your hardest to let the people you buried years ago stay away like you wanted them to.
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ANNETTE — “Hi, ace detective.” The young girl stifles a yawn. “We’ll be closing up soon, I’m afraid. Is there anything I can help you find?”
EMPATHY — She’s hoping the answer is yes. Any excuse to take a break from the dreaded *math homework.*
“No thanks, I was just on my way out.” [Leave]
“It’s okay, I don’t want to distract you from your studies.”
“Yeah, actually. I’m looking for a book.”
ANNETTE — She tries and fails to hide her relief as she sets her textbook under her chair. “Of course! What are you looking for, sir?”
“A happy story.”
“A sad story.”
“Something that will make me a better detective.”
“Something that will make me a better person.”
“Something about how to mend a broken heart.”
ANNETTE — “Oh…” She frowns, staring up at the shelves as if hoping that the perfect book will miraculously catch her eye. “Umm… Let me think…”
EMPATHY — She’s genuinely trying to think of one. She wants to help you.
ANNETTE — After a long, long pause, Annette finally lets out a sigh of defeat. “…I’m not sure,” she admits sadly. “I’m sorry, sir.”
YOU — “You can’t think of anything at all?”
ANNETTE — “Well… We do carry some self help books, sir, but…” She casts a quick glance around the store.
REACTION SPEED — Making sure Plaisance is out of earshot.
ANNETTE — The girl leans in conspiratorially and whispers, “Mother says those books are all snake oil. ‘If all it took to change somebody’s life was a book, *we* would be sitting quite prettily.’”
DRAMA — Her Plaisance impression is uncanny! What talent!
YOU — “Why do you sell them, then?”
ANNETTE — “Well,” she coughs, “not everyone agrees with my mother.”
RHETORIC — Translation: because people buy them. It’s as simple as that.
ANNETTE — “But I don’t think that’s quite what you’re looking for, is it, sir…?” She looks up at you with that seemingly impossible mixture of innocence and knowing that is unique to children.
“Yeah, you’re right. It isn’t.”
“No, I think I’ll give the self help books a try.”
“I’m not really sure what I’m looking for, to be honest.”
ANNETTE — She nods slowly, looking down at her frayed nails. “Lots of people come into the shop not quite knowing what they’re looking for. But that’s what’s so nice about bookshops, don’t you think? No matter where you look, you can find *something* interesting.” She smiles bright enough to light up every dark corner of the bookstore and the doomed commercial area below it. “I’m sure you’ll find what you’re looking for, ace detective. Maybe you just have to let it find *you.*”
+1 MORALE
VOLITION — Here in this bookshop. In Martinaise. Revachol. The world. This seemingly wretched lifetime. In the midst of it all, there is always something for you. Uncurl your fist. Let it find your palms upturned.
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