Distraction

Chapter 1-Changed

6 months ago, I was a sinner. I didn't know the difference between wrong and right. Black and white.

I had no filter, no limits. But I had a reason.

My mother left.

My own mother left me, a little girl of her own skin and blood. 8 years old. She was a partier, gone every night, hungover every morning.

She had a reason, too. Dad was an alcoholic. The stink of liquor and beer laced his heart, his mind, his attitude. The words that relentlessly spilled out of his mouth stung like a wasp.

And that's how I ended up here. Parentless, but who needs them anyways? As soon as I was of age, I left my dad and didn't look back.

I didn't realise how genetics work, and I soon became a mix of my parents' worst qualities, which I'd grown so used to, I was oblivious to their development in myself.

I, too, partied. And drank. Underage, not to mention. I made friends. Well, I say "friends", but they're more like accomplices. They put wrong ideas in my head, forced me to do the wrong things.

But something inside of me has changed since those three years. It's only temporary; I know that. Everything always comes back to me.

Music is my distraction. Mainly Green Day, and bands like it. Guitar was my passion; the only thing keeping me sane.

I was so dependent on music that it was my only source of income. Playing small gigs at local locations. It wasn't the ideal job, but it was all I had. In fact, that was where I was headed at the moment.

Sitting in my outdated white Prius, guitar in the trunk, radio cranked up loud as I sang along, on my way to Iguana's. Normally I avoided bar gigs at all costs because of the nightmares that resurfaced when I visited one, but I didn't have another gig scheduled for at least a month and something had to get me by until then.

Iguana's was the bar closest to my flat, yet with the obnoxious traffic in Sydney, it took me a good fifteen minutes to get there.

"This is the dawning of the rest of our liiiiiiives...on holiday!" I sang as if I were Billie Joe Armstrong in the flesh.

Out of nowhere, my phone buzzed in the middle console, which despite my lack of friends, wasn't unusual. Ciarra, an accomplice of mine back in my reckless days still continued to text me details of raves or parties, though I refused to answer her. My phone sat ignored as I resumed harmonising, until I stopped at the corner of Melbourne and 56th, a notoriously slow light.

Out of habit, my eyes drifted to the glowing screen of my phone. Instead of a number appearing above the text, as I'd removed Ciarra's contact information weeks earlier, a three letter name was illuminated. Mom.

My chest tightened as I swiftly picked the device up for a closer look.

MOM 2 minutes ago
I'm coming to see you.

What? Why? I felt a breath get caught in my throat, along with the words that failed to come loose.

My fingers hovered above the keyboard, overthinking my reply.

I couldn't just welcome her in. I hadn't seen the woman since my twelfth birthday, in which she'd made a drunken guest appearance. What could I say?

Maybe I should just tell her "no", I considered, already tapping the letters.

In an instant, my head was thrust against the steering wheel. My phone ejected from my hand and shattered the windshield.

At first, everything was a blur. What just happened? The thought barely managed to muddle through my mind.

When I opened my eyes, all I saw was a vibrant green light through cracked glass. The light. I'd gotten so caught up in texting that I failed to notice it.

I wrenched the car door open despite the dents and stood in the afternoon sun, head pounding. Instantaneously, a hand steadied my arm as I began to sway.

"Shit! Are you okay? I'm so, so sorry. If I would've paid attention, then..." The voice rambled on in my ear, though I squinted, taking in my surroundings in an attempt to clear my head.

My car was crumpled behind me. I was rear ended, but somehow I know it was my fault. Then I turned and took in the person with the grip on my bicep.

He was taller than me. Much. I had to tilt my head up to see his face. He was tan, dark brown hair, and chocolate eyes, in which tears began to form. He looked around my age, and intensely worried, which I couldn't stand. I had to do something.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't- I was distracted. It's my fault," I mumbled.

He looked shocked, but released his intense hold on me and rubbed his hands on his black jeans.

"Oh. So, umm, let me get you my insurance information," he whispered as he whipped out an iPhone from his back pocket.

I looked back to where mine lay, in a pile of debris on the street.

With a grimace, I spoke up. "You wouldn't mind if I used your phone to call a tow truck, would you? Mine's kind of-"

"Oh yeah! Sure! No problem! Here you go!"

The boy passed me the phone, with which I called a truck, awkwardly, as he indiscreetly stared at me.

When I hung up, he extended a hand. "My name's Calum Hood, by the way. You know, for insurance purposes."

I maintained a straight, businesslike face as I accepted his handshake. "Celyn Wolfe." I glanced back to my car, crumpled and rendered unusable, when I remembered. "No, no, no, no, no."

In the matter of seconds, I'd pried the trunk open, and found just what I knew I would, but hoped I wouldn't. My lovely old guitar, smashed finely.

I felt like exploding into a fit of rage, but I remembered that always lead to drinking. Instead, I sunk to my knees on the asphalt and buried my face in my hands.

A large hand came to rest on my shoulder. "Oh my god. I truly am sorry. I-I don't even know what to say. Let me take you home."

Great. A stranger had asked to take me home, just after he'd wrecked my car, guitar, and life.

I would've been a fool to say no.

xxxxx

Hello, it's me, xnoxnamex. I normally only write horror, but I decided to try something new. I hope you all like it, and I will try to write author's notes on each chapter, though I never usually do. Thank you for reading.