Roommates

Roommates (1)

Six months ago 

She glowered over me, her glare burning into my soul. I've seen this woman mad before. But right now, looking at all the hatred that she expressed in her eyes towards me. This was new. This was her limit. 

"That's it," she fumed, taking a step towards me. Her whole body shaking in anger. "I can't stand this anymore. We've had enough of you! Get out of our sights immediately, and never come back. Do you understand me? Never," my own mother spat at me, her hands balled up into fists. 

If this were to happen four years ago, I would have begged her. Begged her for another opportunity. Begged her to allow me stay. Now, I was stronger. I wasn't going to allow myself to be hurt by her words anymore. 

I pressed my jaws together and held my breath, beckoning myself not to cry; of happiness. Happiness? Yes. This is what I wanted. Freedom. From my parents. My drug addict parents. Being pregnant with me was a mistake. They've told me that. Nearly every single day.  

I've heard the stories. The stories they would tell their seven year old daughter. The stories where they confessed that they tried to kill her several times. The stories where they would tell their daughter that she was nothing. She deserved nothing. That I was nothing. 

Luckily for me, I was still alive. Mostly because of the benefits that they received whilst 'caring' for me or perhaps it was the satisfaction that they had from abusing me. Perhaps all the hitting and torturing made them feel better.  I still had some cuts and bruises on my face and loads of scars around my body, especially my back, but I never made it change me, I tried to act normal. If anyone asked about my face, I would lie to them and say I enjoy fighting in the streets. I didn't want their pity. 

You’re probably wondering why on earth I didn’t leave earlier. Thing is, I did. I did try. But they always seemed to find me and now, now that I had their permission to leave this hellhole, I was finally free. Free from my torturous parents, free from this life. 

I stared back at the woman, my mother and smirked. 

"About fucking time," I whispered making sure she couldn't hear me. 

Grabbing my old rucksack which had the money that I had saved after getting a job when I was thirteen, as well as essentials and clothes, I walked out of the door and never looked back. 

Before I found a permanent, safe place to live, I crashed in Lizzie Hamptons house, my best friend's place, for several weeks, until I found somewhere new to live. 

I did, find some place to live. It was cheap, cozy and close to school. Perfection. However, there was one slight problem.  

Vincent Clarke. 

My new roommate.  

You see, he's the hottest guy in my school.