The Devil Spawns Feisty Mate

Isabella

I laid on my back, tapping my fingers against the wall, feeling the chipped drywall as the seconds went by. Staring up at the dirty, broken ceiling with last night's events fresh on my mind.

Dad was pissed off last night and refused to tell me what it was. All he did was take his anger out on everyone and everything. He was mid-rage when I came back from getting take out.

A lot of things got broken, there was a ton of shouting and cursing, and next thing you know, me and dad were throwing fist. We were really loud, I'm surprised no one called the cops due to all the noise.

Which is weird seeing that in this town, everyone seems to know each other and are pretty friendly with one and other. God I hate it.

People kept on coming over just to say hi and start conversation which I hate. I'm not really a talkative person, especially to strangers. I prefer to be alone since getting close to people is just gonna be a waste of time.

Dad is always moving us to get away from the debt collectors and because of that, I lose touch to the friends I make so I just stopped completely after a while.

Plus since we're always moving, we always live in cheap, crappy place. So here I am laying on my bed in a lousy two story house that looks like it'll go crashing down with one good kick.

Can't forget that a lot of the walls here have a bunch of holes in 'em, nearly all windows are broken, and it smelled like something died inside the walls. It's not the worst place I lived in but it's still unpleasant. Definitely need to clean this place up soon.

Sighing, I grabbed my phone and checked the time. Seven forty-five. First day of school and I'm already going to be late. Not liked I care through. School is another waste of my time.

Yet, if I don't go then they're gonna call dad and that means I'll get screamed at and probably get punished since he hates it when the school calls him. What a pain.

Getting up, I looked around before changing into some sweatpants, a long sleeve shirt, and a hoodie. I slipped on some sneakers, ignoring the aches bruises before slipping my phone into my pocket and plucking my bag off the ground next to the door.

I didn't even bother to hide my messed-up face or busted knuckles. It makes people avoid me.

Silently walking down the stairs to, I paused halfway down when there was a loud creak. I froze and listened for a minute.

Still heating their snoring, I carefully went down the last few steps.

At the bottom, I saw both my parents passed out drunk in the living room. Beer cans and broken things surrounded them and there was a heavy smell of cigarette smoke lingering in the air.

Been here for two days and they already made the place from worst to god awful. And I'm the one that has to clean all this up.

Shaking my head, I steadily tipped-toed over to the front door, freezing when I heard dad stopped snoring for a moment and turn over on the couch. Mumbling something under his breath.

I stood there for what felt like forever, waiting until I felt comfortable enough to make my exit.

The front door loudly squeaked open but thankfully that didn't wake dumb or dumber.
Slipping out of that hellhole, a gust of icy-cold wind greeted me the second I stepped outside. I should've brought gloves.

For a town that's fairly big, this place is pretty quiet in the morning. Even though there's a ton of people outside who seemed not affected by the bitter wind at all even in their summer clothes.

Rubbing my hands to try to keep them semi-warm as I walked, I took out my phone to see what directions I had to take to get to my new prison.

I shrugged off the stares I was getting from a few people. Observing my injured form while probably whispering about me. Fortunately I've gotten used to this kind of stuff over the years.