Cigarette Smoke

Chapter One

"Let go!" I cried, but he refused, he tightened his grip around my arm. "Apologize!" He screamed over my tears, his hand coming down hard across my face. My older sister sat in the corner and cried, she knew if she tried to stop him, he would hurt her too.

He left me on the floor, curled up in pain. He then approached Jaxson. "Leave her alone! She didn't do anything!" I cried, he turned his head halfway around and gave me a venomous smirk, then gave her a hard kick in the ribs.

He left the room, grabbing the beer he left on the night stand. He shut the door, locking it from the outside. Jaxson layed helplessly on floor curled up in a ball.

"Jax I'm so sorry" I weeped, crawling over to her. "Why can't you just learn to keep your mouth shut? Then maybe, just maybe he would stop hurting us!" She cried, her head in her hands.

"I'm not going to let him talk to you like that" I pushed myself away and sat across from her on the cold floor, my legs crossed. "I'm used to it, so it doesn't matter. I just don't get why you can't just stay out of it" She got up, wincing in pain and holding her side where she had been kicked.

"Jax, please-" I reached out to grab her hand, but she rejected me and jerked it away. "Don't touch me! It's like... Who ever you touch gets hurt. Just like mom" She screamed in my face. My mother had died at the hand of my father when I was only 6 years old. 

That day Jax was at a friends house and I was left to fend on my own. My mother had come home late from work and my dad, in his drunken state of mind, accused her of cheating. An arguement erupted between them and my father, like usual, took matters into his own hands. Literally.

Yes, I witnessed my mothers death. No, I didn't do anything about it. I couldn't. I was a tiny 6 year old who didn't know any better, the only thing I could do was watch. Ever since that day, Jax has hated me and I've had to live with the guilt.

Yes, my father is in prison. However, when he was taken away, we were left as orphans and were forced to move in with my uncle who happened to be my fathers twin brother. He is no different than my biological dad. They're both equally as fucked up and abusive. 

-o-

I continued to sit against the wall where Jax had left me. I cried silent tears as I was drowning in my own thoughts. "I have to get out of here" I whispered to myself. I calculated a plan and put it into action.

I took a quick glance at Jax who was sleeping on the single twin mattress that was sitting crooked in the middle of our  bedroom. I opened the closet door that sat next to the wall I was leaning against. A small creek came from the door as I opened it cautiously.

I crawled inside of the closet and pulled the string that turned on the single lightbulb inside. I found my guitar case and filled it with the very few clothes I had. I grabbed my phone off of the night stand. Jax and I were given phones by the social workers so we could keep in touch with them, but our uncle had deleted the numbers off of them as soon as they were delivered.

I lugged the heavy case out the window that I managed to slide open, I looked back only once, and that was to take one last glace at Jax. "I'm sorry" I whispered to her as if she could hear me, then I closed the window and ran.

-o-

It was late, maybe 1am, I'm not really sure since my phone had died after just an hour of walking. All I knew was that I was somewhere in California. I took a looka round and noticed a street sign that read "L.A Avenue".

My arm began to ache, my guitar case was growing heavier every step I took, considering it was stuffed with clothes and a guitar. I found a bus bench and sat down, setting the case next to me.

I flexed my arm around to stop the pain. As I moved my arm around in a circular motion, a drop of water landed on my nose. Then another, and another.

Soon it was torrential downpour, and I was lost with a useless cell phone. It rarely rains in California, but this was just my luck. Wherever I went, bad things followed. It was as if I had a broken mirror attached to my back, or I was continuously walking under ladders. 

My red hair poured over my shoulders as I got up from the soaked bench. I grabbed the heavy case in the opposite hand so I could rest my aching arm. The streets were empty, like a post-apocolyptic town that had been wiped out.

The street lights were dim, flickering on and off. One projected light over a telephone box, I sighed in relief. I leaned the guitar case against the lamp post, then scavenged through my black skinny jean pockets for a single quarter.

I shoved it through the slot and dialed My sister's number. As it rang, I could picture her head lights pulling up, her brown eyes sleepy, and her blonde hair thrown in a bun, her lime green tips sticking out. But no one answered. 

Jax was two years older than me, and my uncle had provided her with a car so she was able to get to and from work without him having to drive her all the time. However, she often took advantage of the car and used it to sneak out.

I could only imagine what my uncle would do to her if he had found out that I had ran away. He would surely hurt her until she told him where I was, but she didn't know because I didn't tell her. 

I sighed and leaned against the side of the telephone box. I slid down and sat underneath it so I could hide from the continuously falling rain. It was going to be a long night.