Mrs Mulgrew's daughter || Waterloo Road

A/N + snippet

Hi! I'm not sure who will be reading this all the years later but thank you for picking this up if you have :) just wanted to let you know that i have a much better version of this uploaded to amazon, it pretty much follows the same plot but the names are changed and it isn't listed as being related to waterloo road. It makes (slightly) more sense and is much better written, i would recommend that you check that out but please feel free to read this one on here for free.

Here's the link: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Mrs-Morrisons-Daughter-Lucy/dp/B0977JKXY9/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=mrs+morrison%27s+daughter&qid=1628269766&sr=8-1

I'm also going to include the changed first chapter so that you can compare the differences in the first chapter of the two (very similar) stories

1 THE FINAL STRAW

I wake up to the sound of my alarm blaring from the end table next to my bed like a siren on a police car as it races towards an emergency. 10:00 am, great, it might be a beautiful day in Florida but not so beautiful for me. My wicked soon to be step mother is moving in today, but I have plans to ruin her entire life before she ruins mine and make her regret the day she ever set her googly eyes on my father. Nothing else has worked so this has to. I get myself ready by putting on my favourite pink crop top with a white leather jacket and faded blue jeans and head down the stairs where my little half-sister is eating multicoloured cereal at the dining table, and no she isn't the daughter of the soon to be Mrs Morrison that's moving in today. There's been many, too many.
"Hey Sophia." I smile widely, showing off my perfect pearly whites.
"Hi Nikki, remember what dad said-" she warns mid mouthful.
"Yeah, I know don't do anything stupid blah blah blah." I say rolling my eyes, walking straight past her and into our large driveway that's lined with vibrant green shrubbery, freshly trimmed hedges and a decadent fountain spouting water that glistens in the late summer sunlight.

I spot the big delivery truck and rush over to the corner where it's parked amongst all the people I invited, pretty much everyone from school, even those I don't know. They all stand huddled in a huge crowd outside the house anxiously waiting to see what stunt I'm going to pull this time.
I grab the back door handle and pull it up with a heavy sigh. "Come on everyone, help yourself!" I shout into the crowd. I stand aside and watch as everyone fights to get to the front. I scramble together an armful of the witch's designer clothing and I head back inside with the rest following behind until we reach the garden, it's filled with lush green grass, an infinity pool that overlooks the ocean and expensive white patio furniture.

I cover the pile of clothes in lighter fluid from my dad's studio and with one swift flick from my lighter it goes up in bright orange flames that light up the patio like a bonfire. Suddenly my ears are filled the frantic yells and hurried footsteps rushing to the party. Dad and The Witch, right on schedule.
"Nikki! Stop now!" Dad calls out whilst The Witch just stares with a shocked look on her face, she's 36, platinum blonde and clad head to toe in the best clothes my dad's money can buy, my insane step sister, Blair is thankfully nowhere to be seen. It's bad enough having my dad's new pretty little thing around and even worse when her crazy, stuck up seventeen year old is here too.
"Ah! Welcome!" I wave, "I was starting to worry that you'd gotten lost, come to join the fun?"

"This is too far! Why would you do this?" My father yells, going red in the face. "All of you go home!" My dad shouts again, and I roll my eyes. Everyone leaves reluctantly muttering in annoyance over the sudden end to all our fun. Once they're gone my dad turns his anger back to me, "Nikki, you have gone too far this time!"
"So what? What are you going to do?" I roll my eyes, I have heard my dad say this about a million times and he usually forgets about it by the next morning or by the end of my phony, begrudged apology.
"You're going to Scotland!" He shouts, and I can tell that this plan was not created on a whim.
"What?" I exclaim.
"To live with your mother." He mutters.
"No, no, no you can't do that! I haven't seen her in 12 years!" I cry, praying to God that screeching might magically change his mind. Sending me back to the alcoholic mother that abandoned me isn't punishment, it's abuse. The last year of my parent's marriage is the first period of time that I can remember vividly without a mistake. Evenings of dinner table fights that lasted well beyond sunset until they both gave in and slept on their anger just recharging so they were ready to do it all again the next day. The arguments were usually kickstarted after my mother had started drinking heavily after work almost every day and never returning home unless she was more than half cut. At five years old I couldn't understand why she drank the way she did and to this day I still don't, it doesn't matter to me, all that matters is that I can never forgive her. I can never forgive her for always being too drunk to care or too drunk to be anything other than angry and I can definitely never forgive her for starting her new life and only taking my older brother with her.
"So what? You're going and that's that, I can't deal with all this anymore. You're too much." Dad shouts, turning his back on me and rushing this month's fiancée inside.