Suicide Angels - Why Dont We Family-

The color Gray

Trigger warnings are everywhere in this chapter especially towards the end but I don't like putting warnings in the middle of the story so here's your warning.

This is also very very long and some parts aren't important I just got bored and trailed off topic.

His fingers racked through the piles and piles of clothes tossing the ones able to be sold off to the right and shoving the non sellable items into the black trash bag beside him. He sat on the cold concrete floor in silence other than the rusting of the bags he was going through. The smell of a burning fire filled his nose from the open window just feet above his head. The basement was cold per usual. He wore a pair of wide legged blue jeans and a black sweats shirt and his aged black platform doc martins he wore everyday for the past two years. Going through his old clothes and selling them was the easiest way he could think of to make a few bucks.

He heard the floor above him creaking as someone ran a crossed it. His hair felt greasy and his fingernails were brittle from chewing on them so much, eyeliner left on his waterline from the day prior. It was about 8 at night and he was already tired. The silence of the room was soon killed by the screams and cries of his youngest sibling upstairs. He grumbled and tried to ignore the baby's crying but he was far from over it, this house was nothing but hectic. He hated how loud it was at all times.

He dealt with the loud cries for a few minutes before he stood to his feet and walked across the room to the staircase leading to the upstairs. He walked the narrow stairs to the top and latched his hand around the door handle, slamming it shut.

The loud noise of the slamming door caused the infant cry louder so the teen stomped back down the stairs back over to the bags of clothes he was going through. It didn't take long for the sound of footsteps stomping the ground the filled his ears and soon the voice of a female shouting as she opened the door. "Who just slammed this door?!" She yelled to one of the many children stepping down onto the stairs to spot the corporate.

He kept quiet and continued what he was doing. He could hear her walking more into the room "what are you doing?" She questioned in a strict tone coming up behind him. He kept quiet and continued doing what he was doing. She fumbled with on of the black trash bags of clothes "listen I'm not in the mood to deal with you what are you doing," she asked again in a more firm tone. He looked up at the middle aged blond haired woman.

'Stuff' he signed with his fingers and looked back down hoping she would go away. She noticed the open window and stepped over to shut it whilst speaking once more.

"Grayson! I Have shit to do stop wasting my time. I'm asking one more time what are you doing?" Grayson rolled his eyes and sat the article of clothing in his hands down. "I'm looking for old clothes I can sell," he said looking back to the clothing in front of him. "Um I don't think so," she said bending down and picking up many of the items stuffing them back into bags. "You have four younger siblings who would love these clothes one day. We aren't rich like you seem to think we are these are going to be your siblings clothes one day you aren't getting rid of them. You think we have the money to buy everyone new clothes?!" She spat at him. He stared at her with a blank face. "Clean it up," she said standing straight once more. "If you want money your old enough to get a job,"

Once her back was turned his middle finger went up at her. A scowl on his face. He stood up leaving the mess behind and followed her upstairs after she was already out of sight. The house was a mess kids toys lay everywhere and plates from dinner were stacked by the sink and baby bottles and supply cups were everywhere. He walked over to the cabinet where the cups where kept sand pulled a tumbler belonging the eldest girl in the house but he was unbothered. With the cup in hand he made his way to the fridge and filled it with ice and grabbed a straw and a the lid to the cup. He then wandered to the back door of the house slipping out into the garage where one red car was parked and light blue beat up truck was broken down. The garage smelled of gas and tools lay all over the floor from his father. He walked past the two cars to another fridge over in the corner containing what he was after. He pulled the handle of the white box causing the light inside to turn on and make the many bottles of alcohol visible to him once again. He shuffled through the few different kinds before pulling out one that was almost empty that he had enjoyed previously. He poured the remainder of the liquid into the cup he held and then snapped the lid into place.