Disclaimer: The characters in the story do not belong to me; they belong to Providence and its related companies. I am not making any money from this story.
A/N: I have only just started to watch Providence (I'm at the start of Season 2) so, yeah, bear that in mind when reading. Also, I know this plotline has been done to death, but I thought I'd have a go. Hope you like it :) Feedback is always appreciated.
Robbie flew furiously along the streets of Providence on his motorbike. He did not know where he was going, or when he would be back. He needed the speed, the adrenaline, to get rid of his anger and frustration.
'You can't run from your problems forever,' his Dad had once said to him.
Running away from them was his favourite option. In the short-term, it worked well. In the long-term, Jim was right. It never solved anyone's problems. But Robbie never thought in the long-term.
As he picked his way through the traffic, he remembered what had caused the argument that morning.
'Where are my keys?'
It was a warm Saturday morning in April when Robbie Hansen crawled out of bed on hearing the frustrated call, and wandered towards the kitchen. After some deliberation, he settled for a bowl of cereal and cup of coffee to start his day. Hannah was already seated in her chair, playing with something, whilst her mother, Joanie, temporarily left the kitchen to see if the newspaper had arrived.
'Good morning, Hannah,' Robbie greeted, touching his spoon lightly upon her nose, causing her to giggle. 'How's my favourite niece this morning?'
'She's your only niece, and I am certainly not providing anymore at the moment,' Joanie snapped, returning to the kitchen. She did not look her usually bright self; she appeared to be troubled by something.
'Sorry I breathed,' Robbie muttered, looking down and taking a great interest in his coco-pops.
At that moment, his sister and father, Syd and Jim Hansen, walked into the kitchen.
'Where the hell are my keys?' a frustrated Syd demanded for what seemed to be the fiftieth time.
Hearing the sound of metal rattling next to him did not register until his sister had repeated this. He looked up and saw Hannah playing with the now found keys. 'Syd...'
'Robbie!' Syd snatched the drooled-on keys out of Hannah's mouth. 'Don't give things like that to Hannah!'
'The keys could cut her gums,' Jim added, picking up the newspaper.
'Don't answer back, Rob,' Jim cut in sternly.
Angry at not being given a chance to explain, Robbie left his breakfast, grabbed his jacket, and stormed out of the door. Moments later, the roar of the bike could be heard fading away.
He had been snapped at with no provocation. He had been blamed. His side of the story had not been heard. He had been told off. He had stormed out of the house.
It had been the same when he was younger. He would be told off, although mostly he deserved to be, and he had stormed out. Some things never changed.
He snapped back to reality on hearing police sirens in the distance. He looked in the wing-mirror to see a sleek black Saab driving rapidly and wildly in his direction, closely followed by a police-car with its sirens ablaze.
Robbie was unable to slip in between the traffic, which was moving quickly out of the way. The Saab was driving far too fast. Before he knew what had happened, the hood of the car caught the back wheel of his bike, sending both the vehicle and driver spinning across the road.
He fell to the ground, the chassis of the bike striking him heavily atop his chest. Robbie, dressed in little more than a leather jacket, t-shirt and jeans, rolled violently at a considerable speed to the side of the road, and crashed to a halt against two parked cars. As he tried to lift his head to regain his bearings, he groaned and the world around him faded into a painful black.