"Who the hell are you to tell me?
What I am, and what's my master plan?
What makes you think that it includes you?
Self-righteous wealth, stop flattering yourself"
"Get out."
I stood there, blinking, my mouth hanging open, "...Whaaaat?" I started laughing...but my laughter slowly died down...when I saw that my step-dad was...dead serious.
"Jason, you heard me. Get the fuck out." He pointed upstairs, "There's a bag somewhere in your room, I want you to pack your shit, and LEAVE!" He shoved me back, and my mom stood in front of me, "Dennis, I will tolerate you yelling at my son. But I will not tolerate you hurting him." Dennis- I don't think be deserves to be called step-dad anymore -crossed his arms, "He's a waste of money and space, but mostly money. You know we're low on cash, and the only thing he's doing is wasting it, Irene! Don't act like you don't know this, because I know you do." My mom looked down...and then she looked back at me, "Jason, dear...go do what your father says." I just...stared at her, "...That man...isn't my father...a-and I don't think I can call you my mother." Before she could say anything, I ran up to my room.
"So when the smoke clears, here I am
Your reject all-American
Sucking up to your social sect
Making you a nervous wreck
To hell and back and hell again, I've gone
You're not my type
Not my type"
Everything after all of that was a blur, really. Before I knew what really happened, I was already walking through the neighborhood, a decently sized duffel bag slung over my shoulder. I just packed some clothes, my CD player since it's small enough, my headphones, a couple CDs, and some cash...which I doubt is gonna get me like...an apartment or anything. Oh well, a cheap motel will work for a little bit, I suppose.
"What's the difference between you and me?
I do what I want, and you do what you're told
So listen, and shut the hell up
It's no big deal, and I'll see you in hell"
I sighed, walking, looking at all the two-story houses that lined the sidewalks. I understand why so many friends of mine ran off. They got tired of seeing all the same houses, all the same fences, all the same damn lawns with those shitty gnomes. I think I'm getting tired of them too, or maybe my parents were just tired of me.
Part 2 of 2 (the story will continue obviously, but this bit was only two parts)
YOU ARE READING
Scattered
FanfictionThe year is 1997. My name is Jason. My parents kicked me out of the house. Why? Not important right now. Ever sinced that night, I've been doomed to wander this shitty neighborhood, sleeping in roach infested motels and digging through the trash for...
