And if I stare too long I'd probably break down and cry / Duff McKagan x OC

The standard: traumatizing childhood

A/N: okay so this is the first chapter, I hope you like it. Please give me some feedback :)

TW: domestic violence, alcohol abuse, smoking, mention of blood, death, language, grammar mistakes

She walked down the road, which was barely lighted by some neon signs hanging on the houses a few meters above me. This road was just a dirty side road of the main streets. She hadn't been here for long, only a few months, but she already knew the area.

LA was a big city, no doubt. She had seen a lot of its highs and lows, traveling around while searching for a place to stay. And that's how she endet up on the Sunset Strip. An area with a blooming nightlife, she liked the Sunset Strip especially at night. With all the lights and people, the bars, and small alleys. A perfect place to not get noticed and not be found.

She lighted a cigarette, thought a while back and let out a deep sight:

„Danielle! Get up! Listen to me! Go get your brother and get away from here!", her mom helped her get up from the floor and wiped the blood and tears away from her face. „But mom..."she cried. „No, listen. It all will be over, give it some time it's the same as always. Take your brother and come back in the evening. You know how it works." Her mom said, panic swinging in her voice „now hurry"

Her mom ran out of the room and she ran up the stairs to get her brother. This hasn't been the first time even though it all started normal. When she was younger had dad only drank from time to time, mostly when we had people visiting us. He used to drink two glasses of wine while sitting there, one arm wrapped around my mom, talking to our guests, while me and my brother were playing with the other children in the garden.

I was living in San Francisco at this time.

Everything was fine back then. We were a happy family. But when I was eight my dad lost his job as an architect because he didn't get jobs. My mom, who hadn't been working since she raised me and my brother and did the household, tried everything to earn money. She worked as a maid, as a waitress and a lot of other mini jobs. But the money she earned wasn't enough and my dad felt it was all his fault and began to drink. He started with beer but eventually tried heavier alcohol like Vodka and Gin.

At this point there was no going back. All the money my mom earned was gone in seconds mostly for alcohol. At first he was only a bit more aggressive and wouldn't be able to do anything. Our house got messier and messier. My mom couldn't clean it because she was working and me and my brother, who was five at that point tried our best to help but we couldn't really help. It got worse day by day. Eventually we hadn't enough money to pay for hobbys and free time activities and I had to give up my guitar lessons.

When my dad first hit us I was nine. My mom and he were arguing and at some point he would just give her a hard smack into her face. Now that he'd done it once he did it twice and again and again and again. When my parents were arguing I used to take my brother with me into my room upstairs und play guitar and sing for him so he wouldn't hear the sound of glass breaking, my mom screaming and my dad yelling.

Some day in October we had no money. There was nothing and my dad ran out of alcohol. My mom couldn't find a job and he would force her to prostitution. She was so mad about him telling her to do that, they would argue day and night and he even attacked her with a knife. This was the first time, my mom told me to take my brother and leave the house and only come back in the evening. I did as she said because I was afraid, I had been attacked by my dad many times and once even with a knife, which left an ugly scar directly across my eye.

My brother couldn't really understand what was happening he would always cry all the time after my mom told us again to leave the house. My dad had been „patient" with him and I think even he noticed that he shouldn't attack a six year old with a knife.

That one night, the night before my 18 birthday my parents would argue again. But it was worse this time. All because I asked my mom if we could bake a cake together, my dad would just appear behind me and yell at me, that we don't have the money to even buy flour.

„Yeah but we have money for your stupid alcohol", I yelled tearing up already. God I hated it. Without saying a word my dad would throw a punch turning me had to the side and leaving her nose bleed. I felt anger grow in me, anger that I'd been holding in for years. „Fuck you and your stupid alcohol. You could've gotten a new job back then, keep a happy family and watch your kids grow up happy. Look what you've done, your wife's became a prostitute to keep us alive and your children are traumatized. Is that really what you wanted?" This time the punch was harder and threw me to the floor.

I didn't even had the energy to get up again. My mom started yelling at him but I couldn't understand what she was saying. There was a beeping sound in my  ears and my sight was blurred from the tears. I felt blood running down my chin mixing with tears. That's when my mom arrived and shook me. She yelled at me and I just nodded trying to get up. I knew what to do. It was worse than the other times but I had to leave her mom again, I learned that a long time ago.

Stumbling out of the living room I already saw my brother standing on the staircase. He had become tall. His brown eyes were filled with worry as he handed me a paper towel. Thankful I took it and wiped the blood from her nose. „I won't let this happen another time, once this is over I'll do something about this." I murmured while cleaning her face. I could hear my mom scream and then I heard a sound like someone was collapsing. I looked at my brother and he seemed as concerned as me.

He ran down the hallway, while grabbing a bottle of vodka that had been laying on the ground (obviously empty) and opened the door to the living room as soon as I arrived next to him. The room was a complete disaster, it was dirty after all but the lamp was lying on the floor and one shelf had collapsed and books were lying all over the floor. On the floor in front of the couch there was lying mom on the floor and dad was sitting on the couch as if nothing ever happened and cleaning a bloody knife.

„WHAT DID YOU DO?" I yelled at him. „I just did what needed to be done" he said not even looking up at me. „Ok that's enough" my brother murmured under his breath and ran towards her dad, attacking him with the bottle. I knew he didn't stood a chance since dad had a knife. Completely ignoring everything around me she jumped over some books and ran towards the telephone.

I dialed a number and waited for a second. „911, what's your emergency?"

That night my dad finally got arrested and my mom died. My brother died two days later because of his injuries.