Where Were You? An Emblem3 Fanfiction

Goodbye old life

CHAPTER 1

AUTUMN

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I skate until I've lost myself in the precision and sheer adrenaline of it. The accuracy and wind carries my hair behind me. It is like flying, almost, or being another person, right when you're in free fall everything falls into place. The board under you is the only thing that keeps you from crumbling down.

It is not until way after dark that I realise that I am past late home. It is nearing eleven o'clock, an hour past curfew, and I know what the consequences will be. I speed skate all the way home, pushing my legs harder and harder until they feel like jelly.

When I arrive home I am out of breath and practically running to the front door, board in hand. I am boiling hot and my hair sticks to my face in sticky tendrils. I tie it up, out of the way carelessly and shove my snapback on. I fumble for my keys in my bag, rooting around among the junk that makes up the contents of it.

I am out of place in this house in the rich side of the private suburbs. The hedges of every single house come in perfect line with eachother and every flower follows the same colour scheme. The acid green lawn is fed daily with chemicals to keep it looking especially fake. And everyone is right out of some kind of freakin' picture book.

I wear ratty converse and a band t-shirt so old that I have forgotten which band it is to. I do this to shake it up a little, you'd think I was wearing a crop top and short shorts, the way people stare at me. My skinny jeans are faded and distressed and fit me like a best friend, I swear they are the comfiest thing I own. My hair is long and tangly, in a blonde mess. It's thrown into some kind of messy up do that took about 0.1 seconds.

Eventually I gingerly open the door, bracing myself for what's about to come, I expect a torrent of shouts and angry growls but there is nothing. Relieved, I creep into the house silently, carefully, shutting the door behind me as softly as humanly possible. The whole house is eerily quite, which for some reason makes me more uneasy than if the tv were to be blasting at full volume, it's unsettling.

I almost make it to the third step when I hear heavy footsteps behind me. My whole body breaks out into a cold sweat and my legs stiffen up. I carry on and act as if I hadn't heard them, hoping that I wasn't going to noticed, praying to be ignored. I try my very best to act like Im not scared, I even think I've half tricked my mind over the years. I think that I have gone undetected when I hear a loud booming voice, obviously affected by drink and anger.

I turn and see my step-father standing there, an ill flattering shirt hanging off him, a bottle of half empty whiskey in his large hand. My mother is stands cautiously, wavering behind him, not wanting to get in his path. I hate how she looks in submission, following his lead, I almost want to shake her.

They look like polar opposites standing there like salt and pepper. My mother is tiny and petite with dark brunette hair and intruding grey roots. Yet my step-father stands big and firm, even though he is thoroughly intoxicated he still towers above everyone. He stares menacingly with his cold eyes and a protruding beer belly, his thinning hair sitting on his head like wisps of nothing.

" What's the time?" He growls, his voice echoing off of the walls.

I can barely make our his angry slur, he's defiantly drunk, very drunk. Even whiles being drunk he still finds the motivation inside of him to taunt me. He makes a cruel show of checking his bare wrist and looking around as if he were in some kind of pantomime.

" Oh you don't know?" he laughs coldly.

He gives a patronising stare and sneers in my face. He's mocking me, this low life is mocking me. I feel like I'm a bug and he's a spoilt kid with a magnifying glass, slowly but surely burning me alive. I can't even stand being in the same room as him, I feel nothing but hatred and despise.