The Nerd With The Tattoos.

IT WAS PICTURE PERFECT

COMMENT.

FOLLOW.

VOTE.

This book will be updated every Monday.

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"Rain, its not up to me. The court issued this." My father, Gavin, tried to say but like the past week I ignored him and continued to pack my clothes. My father wasn't the normal father. He was cruel and vicious when he lost his temper, but he would never take it out on me or my brother. It was always his workers. I've witnessed him beat a man, almost, to death. I wont lie, I felt as if I was going to throw up my kidneys, but that was when I was eleven. And at the age of seventeen, I've more than witnessed more than a man getting beaten within an inch of his life.

This life wasn't a choice. It was an order.

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Nodding to the guy on my couch in the living room, I dragged my two suit cases behind me. My brother followed silently, with a murderous look on his face, probably trying to see if he can think of a thousand ways to kill me.

The thing with Colton was, he was always a mamma's boy. He loved to cook, hated mess, probably had OCD in there somewhere. Me on the other hand, hated the bitch. My mother, Ashling, was a conniving whore who couldn't keep her mouth shut. She always tried to get a one up on Gavin. This time it was to take his kids. however because Colton was already eighteen, he could decide. Me being the one who just turned seventeen, don't have a choice but to move to the stuck up, snobby, perfect home town of Ashling.

Ashling sent me pictures of it, all the houses are the same. White or brick with black trimmings and window sills. The grass is the perfect green and each house has a huge iron gate with the first letter of the last name in gold mounted to them. The town is tainted with power and plastic. This place is so fucking FAKE.

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"Sweety, will you please wake up, we're home." Ashling shook my shoulder and gave me a soft smile when she had seen I had woken, not that I was asleep, just being difficult. But she really doesn't need to know that.

"Mother, I'm tired, can I get my bags later?" I asked, almost frowning when the foreign word left my lips. I haven't said the word mother since I was eleven and to be honest, it was strange. Hell, I dont even call my own father, father. Ever. It will always be Gavin. Gavin or a fucking prick. No in between.

She gave me another soft smile and shook her head slightly. "Honey, the house waiter can get them. You go rest." She patted my shoulder and waved for me to follow her. Silently following her, I noted how pristine the house was on the inside. It was completely spotless. The entrance hall was a little larger than the average one. The walls were maroon with white trimmings and an 'L' shaped couch was pushed into the right corner. There was a white marble table dead center of the room with a glass vase filled with blood red roses. The walls were lined with paintings of dancers, mostly by and artist Edgar Degas.

I followed Ashling into the next room, it was the kitchen. The counter tops were black marble and black cupboards, that had silver handles. The appliances were steel and probably the most expensive cooker, fridge and dishwasher on the market. The walls were a cream color, making it look huge.

The next room was almost bare except for a large staircase winding itself up to the second story of the house. There were few paintings lining the walls, this time mainly Picasso.

The hall leading to what i assumed were bedrooms, was white with music notes drifting from one bottom corner to the opposite top corner. Both sides of the hall was lined with the design, even covering the doors.

One door however was painted black. The notes were painted in white. Ashling surprised me by walking right up to it and swinging it open.

The room was spacious and had an aura of elegance, yet its was still an average teenagers room. The bed was pushed up against the far wall, which was painted black. The covers were zebra themed with the square cushions being placed on different sides making the pattern vary. There was a large sliding door on the next wall. Black and white spotted curtains draped down to the floor and there was a small balcony outside. The next wall was covered with white shelves, probably more for design than for actual storage. in the center of the shelves were two doors, one matching my bed the other matching my curtains.

When I turned I realized Ashling had left, leaving me to explore my room alone. I pushed open the zebra door and was met with a luxurious en suite. The bathtub was black along with the toilet. The shower and sink were white and the walls were black tiles, the floor was tiled in white. Beside the tub was a plush black rug.

Slipping out of the bathroom I pushed open my wardrobe door. The walls were painted black but the shelves, clothes rails and desk were white. on the desk were different compartments filled with make up, a hair dryer, flat iron and curlers. different jewelry was placed in the top four drawers and the bottom four were filled with hair accessories and face masks.

Rolling my eyes I pushed the drawers closed and turned to leave the wardrobe but a painting caught my eyes. Walking over to the oil covered canvas my knees almost buckled. There in the painting were five people.

A woman with blond,curled hair and bright blue eyes. Her skin was clear and her lips a fake red. She wore a low dipping red dress.

A man with dark brown hair, blue eyes and a crisp black suit.

There was a boy with dirty blonde hair that was spiked. His eyes were bright blue and he had a twinkle to his smile. He, like his father, was in a crisp white suit with the black tie.

In the front was two young girls. One with bright green eyes and one with blue eyes. they both had long natural, blonde hair. The girls were no older than ten. They were wrapped up in each others arms and had the most realistic smiles on their faces out of all five people.

It was my old family. Now we are all just strangers who constantly have an eye on you, holding a knife to your throat.

A knock on my bedroom door startled me into reality again and I sent a fleeting look to the oil painting. Opening my door I seen and elderly man with both my suit cases at his feet.

"Miss. Forks, Madam. Swiss has requested that I drop these into you. She also wanted me to tell you that she has left to have dinner with her husband and that you must get Mildred, the cook, to sort your dinner out." He said in a dead tone.

I nodded and smiled. "Hey, call me Rainie. and can I ask a question?"

His eyes softened slightly at my soft, almost childlike voice and he nodded. "How many husbands has she had?" He looked like he was shot with a shock gun. His eyes widened in surprise.

"Four husbands and seven boyfriends. Since your father has left anyways." He said in an almost dead tone once again. I nodded and looked to the ground with a twisted smile on my face.

"Okay, thank you for bringing my bags up, sir." I said politely. I took the bags once he had walked off and started to unpack.

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After unpacking I slip on my fake, thick rimmed glasses and got to work on picking out an outfit for tomorrow. It was my first day and I wanted to make the perfect impression. Pulling out an old knitted beige cardigan, baggy jeans and a baggy t-shirt, making sure it wasn't see-through. I huffed when I realized that this was how I was going to have to dress like for the rest of the year.

My stomach rumbled and I almost hit it, as if to punish it for speaking. When it continued to have a tantrum I went down to the kitchen.

What I didn't expect to see was a boy. An eighteen year old boy that would change my life.