The Memory Remains || Kirk Hammett

1:: Fortune, fame

"Lars. Really?" I scoffed, throwing clothes into my red duffel bag. 

My mum looked at me with an offended look.

"Yes, Valentine. Lars. He's your cousin, you silly girl. You're related, there isn't anything wrong with him; you may not like the same things but he's family nonetheless." She threw me random items she thought I would need, perfume, socks, underwear, makeup and some books aswell. I rolled my eyes at her ignorance. "So what? He likes metal mum. We're complete opposites. He plays the drums, aswell. I'll be deaf by 20." I zipped up my bag, throwing it over my shoulder. 

—

I sat in the backseat of my mums car. I had my music plugged in, Dreams by Fleetwood Mac blasting through the mini speakers into my ears. I had to leave my school, all my friends, and leave all the memories I've made over the year behind. The good ones, of course. 

No more partying every night, skipping classes, detentions every day... no, I had to try this time. Restart my life. I definitely wasn't going to get expelled this time - or atleast, that was the goal. My life had been extremely troubled these past years - I had dealt with many mental health issues and being expelled from the place all my friends were was my last straw. My mum had forced me to move in with my cousin, Lars, and go to the same posh boarding school as he goes to. (None of this, obviously, I had agreed on.)

But here I was, driving miles away to his house, with a bag packed to the brim of items I probably didn't need, but was packing them nevertheless. My window was rolled down, letting the cold, crisp wind blow into my dark brunette hair. My lips were chapped, and my mascara was probably smudged, but I was in such a bad mood that I couldn't care less. Hell, who am I kidding? I would do anything to not move in with a cousin who I haven't liked since the day I met him, who annoyed me at any second possible, and who would bash his drum kit just to piss me off? Ah well, it was only a chapter of my life. It would be over soon. I'll make some new friends, learn new things and have many opportunities to express myself and learn new lessons.

—

"Lars! Get down here, your cousins here!"

I was stood outside the front door, staring down at my battered white converse, not wanting to look the 18 year old in the eyes. I heard a long, tired groan and loud steps running down the wooden stairs.

"Huh?" He stood still, looking me in the eyes, wearing a black and white Misfits shirt, his mousy-brown hair frizzy and puffy. His mum beckoned for him to come over and greet me.

"What the hell is she doing here?" He gave me a dirty look, looking me up and down. I looked him up and down in return as his mum scolded him, trying to cover her anger up with a very clearly forced smile. Lars put his arms up in surrender and muttered a "hi." I enthusiastically waved back at him, making his blood boil. I threw my bag at him. "Think fast!" He jumped back as my bag hit him across the stomach. "What the hell, dude?" He picked up my bag and threw it to the side of the large room he was standing in. I laughed at his lack of common sense.

—

I lay in my queen sized bed, flipping through the pages of a book my mum had forced me to read, bored out of my mind. It was peaceful though, I have to admit. The birds were sat on the windowsill singing their birdsong, the sky was a comforting light blue and my violin compilation vinyl was making this experience just that much better.

But of course, nothings ever perfect.

The loud clash of Lars's drums ruined everything. Again.

"FOCK!" He yelled out. Windows were almost  shattered, I swear. 

"Lars, I swear to f.." I screeched, being cut off by the doorbell ringing. "MUM, IVE GOT IT!" The small Danish boy yelled, running to open the door.

I couldn't care less about Lars but I was rather curious as to who was meeting up with him. I strutted down the stairs, walking over to where Lars was standing and standing behind him. "Who's meeting up with you now then, hmm? Another blonde chick?" Lars turned to face me, scowling as I grinned at his madness. But to my surprise, a blonde chick wasn't standing in the doorframe, there was no chick at all, just a tall, blonde, greasy haired man with a huge grin on his face. I walked closer to the unknown figure.

"Ooh, who's this then Lars? Have you finally realised you're a homosexual?" I giggled, seeing Lars' anger increase after each word I said. He covered his face and decided to just go back downstairs and start messing around on his drums. The blondie studied me and then let out a loud shout. "So, who are you to the Danish rat then?" I scoffed at his question. "I'm his cousin. Unfortunately. What about you?" He stepped into the house, closing the door behind him. "I'm his band mate. Ya know, 'Tallica?" 

I stood there clueless. "What's that, a cheese?" 

He laughed back at me. "Eh, find out yourself. He'll be having a strop downstairs and I better get down there before he physically blows up." He walked downstairs, turning to face me as he got to the last step.

"Hey, girlie. What's yer name then? I'm James. James Hetfield." He said.

"It's Valentine. Valentine Cunningham."