Hey so this is my first fanfic story and it's an original tell me what you think of chapter 1!
Chapter 1: Let's Start at the End
Getting the crap beat out of you isn't much fun, take it from me, I should know. Since I was nine I've pretty much been my father's personal punching bag. Bad day at work, Jesse gets a slap, one too many drinks, he'd throw a few punches and a couple of kicks in the gut. A sharp kick in the head snaps me back to the present. I roll over on to my stomach, the taste of iron fills my mouth, I spit blood on to the floor cursing Blue and Pop. The dark room starts to spin around me and me being the crazy idiot I am I start to laugh. This is a cold defended laugh, the kind of laugh that says you can't be hurt anymore. I feel the cold point of a gun against the back of my head do I shut up. Yep, I think This is most definitely the end. And then I black out.
Earlier That Year in September
God I hate my dad, I swear my brother and sister and I've only been here for two months and all he seems to care about is his precious girlfriend. Today when I came home John, my twelve year old younger brother, was trying to make dinner for our little sister Kiki, who's ten. There was a note on the table in my father's hand writing Anna, won't be back till late. Feed John and Kiki and put them to bed. Dad and Samantha. Really! That's the kind of note you write to your co worker or some classmate you pretty much hate. So now I'm stuck in the kitchen making mac and cheese and scraping burnt spaghetti out the bottom of a pot, while John and Kiki play on the Wii.
Once the kitchen is clean, the backpacks are packed, and John and Kiki are asleep I shower and slip in to bed. The first day of school is tomorrow, my first day of sophomore year. I don't know why but thinking of that makes me think of her, my mom. She died of cancer two months ago, she and Dad were divorced by then so John and Kiki and moved in with him and Samantha, his girlfriend. I miss her more every day, the way she smiled, her laugh; her… a knock at the door interrupts my thoughts.
"Anna," Kiki calls to me opening the door. She's in her P.J.'s and holding the stuffed bear our mother gave her. "I miss Mom." The hall light makes her look like a dark shadow of a person.
"Do you want to sleep in here?" I ask her sitting up.
She comes in, closes the door behind her then runs across the room and hops into my bed. I pull the covers over her and soon we're both asleep.
Beep! Beep! Beep! My alarm goes off I turn it off and sit up. I reach over a shake Kiki awake. She looks around confused and annoyed.
"Go get ready for school." I say. She gets out of bed and walks off rubbing her eyes while grumbling something about being tired.
I shower again and get dressed in jeans and a floral printed shirt and grab a sweatshirt before heading down stairs. John is already there eating a bowl of cereal while Samantha yaks away about something he has no interest in. When she sees me she smiles and says
"Good morning Anna how'd you sleep?"
"Fine, I guess." Real answer 'Like you care'.
"Was everything okay last night?" Real question 'Nothing of mine was touched right?'.
"Yeah." Real answer 'Like I care.'.
"I'll get you something to eat." Real meaning 'This is awkward I'm going to walk away now.'
Then she walks off and starts to make me a bowl of cereal. Yep, there's no place like home.
God I hate my dad I think as I look in the mirror. My right cheek is red and puffy; the left side of my chest has a huge bruise the shape of my father's fist. I turn on the water and wash my face off. I wince when my hand touches my face and the coldness of the water; I brush my teeth and throw on a gray tee shirt and jeans. The shirt covers the bruise on my chest my face on the other hand is going to be hard. I settle with I sweatshirt, it's raining anyway.
When I come down stairs I see my dad, he's leaning against the counter waiting for he's coffee; he's tie is louse and he's collar's unbuttoned, he could be an everyday working dad, but he's not. I walk in to the kitchen slowly and walk to the refrigerator keeping the table and as much distance as I can between us.
"Is that what you're wearing to school?" he asks me. "Don't touch my stuff," he continues.
I don't answer I just open the refrigerator to get the milk I paid for and the cereal I bought with my money. My dad's not talking about food though; he's talking about his beer.
"Hey," he grabs my arm and pulls me toward him, our faces just inches apart. So close I can smell the mint toothpaste on his breath. Gross.
"Dad, please…" I start, not that his own son's pleads mean anything.
"Shut up!" he growls "When I talk you listen. When I say something you answer you got," He pushes me away from him and into the wall. "Got it?" He yells.
"Yeah." I murmur. With that he stalks out of the room and in the garage slamming the door behind.
I get up rubbing my arm. I've got a new house, a new school, a new town, the same dad and the same problems.
It had stopped raining be the time I started my trek to school. My new school came into view, Redwood High School, there was no one outside but I pulled my hood further up to cover my face. I take a deep breath and opened the door and then… slam!
"What the hell man! Watch where you're going!" The kid yells at me.
I push him off, all the kids in the hallway watch me as I stand, most of them stare at my face. Crap my hood! The other guys standing now, he's an inch or two shorter than me, has blonde hair that just reaches the bottom of his ear, his eyes are an icy blue, and he gives me a shove.
"What the hell dude." He says.
"What! You ran into me!" I reply pushing him back.
"Charles!" Shouts a man that can only be described as a bald hawk. The kid, Charles or whatever takes off out the door, the hawk looking dude follows.
"Which way's the office?" I ask the guy standing next to me, he points to the left staring at my face.
"Problem?" I say more than ask.
"No." He replies then quickly walks away.
The office is an airy nook with a huge bay like window in the back. What idiot would put a bay window looking out on to a street? The secretary, a short, fat, red head, was furiously typing and snapping away at gum. Papers were piled at least a foot high on her desk and three phones were ringing at the same time.
"Excuse me," I say, she doesn't answer. "Excuse me," I try again. Nothing. "Hey, lady!" I shout.
"Well, you don't have to be rude." She says finally looking up. Her eyes glance over my cheek.
This is going to be a long year.
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