Ruined: A Twisted lost Boys fanfiction

chapter 9.

A few years ago, Katharina, a cheerful 10-year-old, was brimming with excitement. "Honey, come on, we can't be late," her mother called out sweetly, prompting a giggle from Katharina. She descended the stairs, her school uniform impeccably neat, and her lush hair adorned with two expressive white bows that her mother had lovingly added. She looked radiant, and her mother's proud smile reflected her joy. The family, including her two older siblings and father, all piled into the car on that bright Monday morning.

"Why have you done your make up  like that, dear?" Maria asked, noticing her middle daughter Dasha's bold makeup. Dasha looked different, with her fuller lips and a more slender face, her top not quite buttered up. This transformation amused her older brother, Draven, who laughed, causing Dasha to hit him and scoff as she returned to fixing her eyeliner. you look like a fucking hooker Devan mocked Dasha, rolling his eyes at her. Dasha scoffed in response and flicked him off without glancing at his smug face. Meanwhile, their father, Dimitri, drove with one hand on the wheel and the other holding a cigarette out the window, blowing smoke away from his youngest, Katharina. His wife Marie scolded him, concerned about the lingering smoke, especially around Katharina, who was oblivious to what her father held but detested the smell's intensity.

"DADDY, that stinks put it out right now!" Katharina demanded, her voice rising in pitch. she thumped her foot against the back of her Father's seat, causing him to chuckle lightly at her and for her to whine louder and louder. "Sweetheart, please don't yell: it's too early," her mother tried to sooth her, but Katharina was determined. I don't want to smell bad like Daddy; I need to smell nice and not stinky. No wonder Daddy has no friends. She crossed her arms, glaring at her father, who smirked back at her. "I do have friends, Kathy; you just don't know them," he replied, finishing his cigarette and tossing it out of the window.

As they arrived at the teenagers school, Draven and Dasha unbuckled their seats, got out, and said their good byes, both kissing Katharina's cheek. she giggled, hugging them tightly before getting back into the car at her father's stern call. fastening her seatbelt with the help of her mother. she continued to smile, playing with her toys as her mother and father discussed their wine business, occasionally, glancing back to ensure she was okay. The morning was filled with laughter, love, and a bit of chaos, but it was a typical day for this livery family.

END OF FLASHBACK.

Katharina's eyes brimmed with tears as a flashback to her younger, happier days washed over her. She sighed, rising to her feet, wiping away the tears before flicking her lighter and inhaling from her cigarette. Glancing down, she laughed bitterly; she used to detest the smell of cigarettes that always clung to her father and his expressive black suits. Now, she found herself mirroring his habits. "Like father, like daughter," she mused with a wry chuckle.

She drifted out of her bedroom, aimlessly wandering through the house, a trail of smoke lingering behind her. As she approached the steep stairs, she glanced over her shoulder at her parents' room. The door remained untouched, dust gathered on the handle where no one had dared to clean. The door itself was grimy, the once expensive paint now tarnished and flaking away. She took a deep drag from her cigarette and shrugged her shoulders, mustering the courage to open the door. "One, two, three," she muttered to herself as she braced for what lay beyond the door. Slowly, she opened it, uncertain of what she would find. As she glanced inside, she was unsurprised to find the room in disarray, much like the rest of the house. Clothes were strewn across the floor, her parents' bed was unkempt, and beer bottles accumulated on both white nightstands. The once fluffy white carpet was now stained with splotches of red, white, and other indiscernible marks. Her gaze settled on her mother's designer makeup-strewn dresser, a testament to the chaos. Her makeup was applied heavily, with cigarettes carelessly strewn about. Her mother, once a paragon of perfection, used to have dizzying fits if things were not arranged orderly and neatly. Yet, it appeared that at some point, her concern for order and perfection had waned, and she began to scatter her possessions carelessly. Lipsticks were left without caps, foundation was smeared all over—it was a complete disarray.