A Beauty and the Tragedy (A Chris Motionless FanFiction)

Chapter One: Things May Have Just Gotten Worse

"There you stand open heart, open doors. Full of life with the world that's wanting more. I can see when the light starts to fade. The day is done and your smile has gone away."

-May I by Trading Yesterday

Irina's POV

"I am so tired of your crap! All you do is create medical bills!"

The words bit into my pale skin with jaws of betrayal. Clutching the area between the window and the door, I fought back tears. I turned to the window, watching the blur of orange, red, and brown in the setting sun.

My dad never did "like" me. He always said he tolerated me. I chewed my lip and gripped the door handle as we passed another car. My mother and I had been in a car accident when I was eight. That was 11 years ago. She had died on impact, and I was on death's door. For some reason the doctors willed me to live and I was subjected to this torture day in and day out. We passed one more car and my stomach threatened to empty its contents into my lap.

"When we get there you need to stay quiet. Don't speak unless Aunt Lacey speaks to you." I wanted to remind him that she was my great Aunt and that I didn't know; she could be nice. Instead I remained silent. We pulled into a grocery store in between the two large mountain ranges: one we had just driven through. "We need to pick up a few groceries. You have money?" I shook my head, avoiding his eyes.

"Then I guess you don't get anything." He got out and slammed the door behind himself.

Some part of me always fully believed that he blamed me for her death; or the death of his happiness. I paused for a moment before opening the rusty truck door and getting out. I pulled my hat further down over my head against the chill of early October. Following him quietly into the supermarket, I focused on my breath as it disappeared in puffs around my face.

It was slightly warmer in here, the smell of cinnamon filling the air. The store looked like it had stopped updating its facilities in the 80's. The only things that looked slightly new were the registers. Two girls stood at an illuminated pole reading the number 1. They glanced at us and one said hello. I followed my father as he weaved through the store. He piled things like cookies and canned foods into his hand basket, my stomach rumbling. I hadn't eaten since yesterday morning. We passed by the deli where a plump blonde woman was helping two older couples select meats. Again my stomach was making dying whale sounds. We finished our shopping trip and went to the register. The girl on one had blonde hair with pink highlights and a nose ring. She threw down her copy of Rolling Stone and began the transaction. "Oh crap. Irina go get the milk." I jumped a bit as he used my name.

He gave me a glare and I ran towards what I thought was the side of the store where the milk was kept. I rounded the corner of the aisle and bumped into something hard. I looked up, my dark green eyes locking with brown ones.

"S-Sorry." I tried to speak clearly, but all I could do was stutter like an idiot. His eyes locked me in place and I could only pull them away for a few seconds to notice his lip piercings. He cleared his throat and side-stepped me. He walked away, not saying anything...rude.

I grabbed the milk and joined my father at the front of the store where his glare had not stopped since I had left. Once in the car, I got reprimanded.

"What the hell took you so goddamn long?" he asked as soon as we were back on the road. "I'm sorry, the store was hard to navigate." He exhaled deeply and kept his eyes on the winding road. I held my stomach, I couldn't puke. He glanced at me out of the corner of his blue eyes. "You're not gonna puke again are you?" he spat, glaring. I shook my head, my breath quickening.

"No sir." I replied quickly as we turned onto a secured dirt road. In a few minutes, we came upon the house. It was a looming Victorian home that just screamed "condemned"! The once blue pait now peeled on the wood siding. The windows looked dirty and the only light inside was coming from a room to the front right of the house. The sun was now behind the mountains and the sky was a deep blue. My father parked the car and got out.

"Grab the bags." I weaved my hand through them all and slowly got out, praying that they held up. We climbed the stairs, my hands aching at the weight in the bags. Dad knocked hard on the door. We waited a few moments before a voice beckoned from behind the door.

Dad pushed open the door and a large creak filled our ears. I strained as dad stepped in and looked around. "Aunt Lacey?" he boomed. I shook with chill and from the bags. My upper body strength had never been great; not to mention I broke my shoulder in the accident. We turned to our right and peered into an old room. Dad walked forward and I stayed behind, not wanting to upset him. I placed the bags silently on the floor and then stood by the door frame.

Inside an ancient woman sat, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders and a piece of fabric on her lap. It took her a few moments to notice our presence. "Hank, is that you?" I looked at my dad as he walked over. "Yes Aunt Lacey. How have you been?" I stood quietly as my mind drifted back to the guy in the supermarket, his eyes still haunting me.

"Irina? Hello!? Anyone home?" I looked up to see my dad glaring again. "Sorry. I'm Irina. It's nice to meet you." I walked over and took her outstretched hand. Her hand was soft and thin as paper. "I have never met you. Welcome to my home." she said, gesturing around her. "I hope you will be comfortable here." I nodded.

"Hank, she can have your old room and you will take your sister's." My heart jumped. Not only at the thought of having my own room, but that she had given him and order. He nodded. "Why don't you all get settled in and then we will make some supper?" Dad led me out of the room and I started for the steps.

"You will stay in the attic. You will be silent." he whispered, handing me my bag and snatching the food away from it's resting place on the floor. I nodded, my throat burning. I climbed the stairs to the second story. It took me a moment to find the attic; a door the end of the hall opened to more stairs. In the attic, there were large objects covered with sheets. I weaved my way through them and found a cot with an old quilt on it. Sitting down I dropped my bag and let the tears fall.

Tears of anger, sadness, everything. A cold breeze blew past me though the broken circular window to my side. It just couldn't get any worse.

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Well there's Chapter 1! How do you guys like it so far? What do you think will happen next? Comment, Vote, and Follow my starlings!