Wide Awake | H.S Au

4. Fuck you dad

" Faster Sam, you lazy bastard" Izaak half shouts at Sam that had gotten stuck in the fence with his pants as he had tried to climb over it instead of going through the hole like the rest of us.

We had left the club just before it would close for the night, leaving right before the last song ended, avoiding most of the rush of horny couples and drunken loners that would linger in every corner and exit as the lights would flash, signaling that the night was over, and it was time to go home.

Instead of going home we had decided to get it going with the bucket list. We had decided to start kind of slow, nothing crazy, yet.

So, as we made our way down to the area's small marketplace, filled with big walls, statues, and other kinds of old artwork, ready to be left with a new look. The task was to mark something, either by painting, graffiti or by carving in some kind of characteristic for yourself. The bigger and bolder the more points you get. And I wasn't one to do something half-assed.

Looking both left and right I make a turn, closing in on the spot we decided to leave our mark at. Sam had gotten down from the fence, a big hole adorns his jeans on the inside of his thigh. He is cursing a bit too loudly, Izaak swatting the back of his head to keep him quiet to not draw attention.

Zelda was gone like the wind since hours ago and all the others had also disappeared one by one, and by the others I mean Harry and his little gang of idiots. The night had actually turned out much better after they'd gone their own ways, just getting a glimpse or two of the curly haired man after our little wrangle.

I honestly didn't get why we even sat with them in the first place, Sam wasn't even that good of a friend with Zayn and Louis, or otherwise I've missed something.

"Look what I found" Amber beams, her nerves from earlier totally gone as she holds up a spray paint can, she had picked up just seconds ago. She turns around, facing the store door, taking a deep breath and starts pushing down the small part on top of the can so the left-over paint starts to cover the class door.

I'm surprised that she even wanted to participate at all with the bucket list, she's usually not so rebellious and tries to not get in trouble, too bad she's friends with us then. I smile as I watch her gracefully move her wrist over the surface, proud of her as she goes against her usual lawful thinking.

I had always been a bit rebellious, mostly because of my father and our relationship. He'd always had so much pressure on me, and everything I always did was wrong in some way according to him so somewhere around 14 or 15 I had started acting out. And he was furious. After that we didn't really have a healthy relationship, he always saw wrongs in my doings and in me as well. Even when I became older, and I quit with most of my bitchy teenager behavior our relationship was bruised. How he'd been towards me during all my upbringings had put a dent in me.

He didn't know how to talk to me, and that had made how he showed emotions and love towards me and the rest of the family something unnatural. My friends had quickly realized that my lack of love and understanding in the most critical years of a teenager's life had made me confused and closed off. It had also affected the way I looked at love and what I believed to be okay and not when it came to relationships and respect. I had no clue to what to expect from friends, family and relationships.

I had never really shoved him emotions as well and when I'd done it he always questioned me, usually when I was sad, I always had to have an explanation or a reason to why, there had to be a problem. The problem was that I was a hormonal teen where feelings like all kind of sorrow, self-doubt and feeling inadequate and worthless was recurrent.

He basically thought me that my feelings weren't valid if there wasn't a good reason behind it.

Today on the other hand the love from and for my friends is what makes me cope and without them I would be either be some kind of chess piece in my father's hands, doing everything he wants me to do or in a ditch somewhere, ruining my life one day at a time.