Blind To It || Dylan O'Brien Fanfiction

1

A/N
Hiya it's Grace and I just wanted to say that some of this is gonna be from a guy's point of view so the writing may be a little awkward at times lol. And this is a new story so yay.

Dedication: primsbraids bc ilysm

(This story is so cringe-y so I'm sorry!!!! I will be publishing something better soon.)

Chelsea

I look exhausted. My hair won't stay in place. The longer I look at myself, the more flaws I notice. Okay. Hopefully a little more hairspray will help with my hair... There. I look better now.

No, wait. My eyeliner is uneven. I need to fix it.

"Get down here, you self-centered brat! Get me breakfast!"

Crap.

I rush down the stairs, and each one creaks from my weight. Not that I weigh much. I step into the living room, which has a low ceiling and chipped beige paint on the walls. The dirty green couch that barley sits three people is pushed against the wall. It faces the tiny kitchen.

My drunk father sways slowly, leaning against the door frame that leads to the master bedroom for support. He holds an empty beer bottle in his hand.

"Make me breakfast, now!" he yells, his voice rising with each word.

If I do that then I'm going to miss the bus. If I don't, my baby sister may get another bruise.

Okay, fine. She's not a baby, she's nine.

Becky comes from behind me just then, as if merely thinking about her could summon her. We share the upstairs bedroom. "Hi Chelsea," she says shakily, sensing the tension. I glance between her and Phillip, Dad, who's glaring at me.

"Chelsea is going to make me breakfast," says Phillip cooly. Beck looks at me, her eyes full of fear. She knows what happens when I don't make breakfast.

I meet her eyes. "Get your backpack," I tell her softly. I sling mine over my shoulder. Then I grab my sister's scrawny arms and lead her directly past my father. We step onto the porch just as the bus pulls up, and then, with no warning, Phillip puts his foot on the back of my knee and presses down. I topple down the concrete porch steps. Then the door slams. I'm looking at the grass. It's wet with dew. Just great.

"You okay, Beck?" I ask my sister. She's standing beside me, leaning down, offering her hand. The bus driver beeps the horn.

She doesn't answer, just glances away uncomfortably.

"Becky, I won't let him touch you. Not this time." We lock eyes for a few moments.

"Yeah, I'm good," she finally replies. I take her hand and let her help pull me up.

"Do I look okay?" I question her, a smile playing at my lips. I pat down my shirt for effect.

"You're bleeding!" Becky points at my face.

"Ah, no biggie," I say to her, still smiling. I take her hand and lead her to the bus. The elementary school bus hasn't arrived, so she'll have to wait. "Have a good day," I call behind my shoulder as I climb the bus steps.

Poor Becky. She can't help our dad. Neither can I.

I've completely forgotten about my uneven eyeliner, and the blood dripping from my nose.

Dylan

"But did you see her this morning? Blood all over 'er face."

"Yeah, and I still think she's hot. Ten of ten."