Elizabeth (Lizzy) Trent
I hated Liston Hills. No matter which way I looked at it, I hated it. From the preppy school douche bags that dropped lame ass pick me ups every time I walked through the corridors at my new school to my scheming slut of a mother who brought me here against all my better judgment.
I wanted to go home, to breathe the thick stuffy air of New York City. To eat a fucking corn dog without someone looking at me like I was a bug needing to be dissected. Why did my life had to revolve around a singular thing. The answer to that was a simple one, need.
My dad died a while back, leaving everything to me, and while we weren’t no millionaires like the rich self imposed assholes I now had to attend school with we weren’t poor. My dad was a partner at Greer and Golde law firm. I lived a good life in New York with my dad. Just the two of us. I was happy, I didn’t want to see my mother, he sure as hell didn’t want to see my mother, but then he died. I still mourned him every night. I was slowing drowning in it barely remembering to surface.
Someone killed my father, shot him four times and cleaned his accounts, all of it. There was no notes, or evidence left from the murder. His firm was looking into it, and I knew Jackson Golde would eventually find something. But until then all I had was a place, a source of where the money went, where my father’s killer could have possibly gone, Liston Hills.
And a few months of stewing on this, I had to finally face some facts, I was left broke, my options were limited unless I married some rich guy, which was never happening, ever. So I rented out the brown stone house I spent the past twelve years living in, which was luckily paid off and begrudgingly called my estranged mother.
After a tense lunch with the woman, I explained the situation and what happened to my dad. I was hoping for a place to stay until I finished the school year, that was it, but she insisted that she’ll help, she said she wanted to.
What I didn’t know when I agreed to all of this was that when she said ‘help’ she meant actually moving to Liston Hills with me in tow. I’ve been here two weeks, and I have no leads on my dads killer. But I learnt a lot about my mother, Diana Trent, yes Trent. She still had my dads last name and she was currently dating Mr Delroy. I wasn’t aware of his first name because my mother always referred to him as ‘Mr Delroy.’