A/N: Hey sexy mulla fullas! My first story. or short story or whatever the hell it is. Be gentle! I hope you likey :)
Silence. I let my sweaty palm slip off the brass doorknob and my back slide down the white wooden door. I rested my head in my blotchy hands and I raced my hands through my shaggy hair. I batted away the tears from my wet eyes before they searched the room for any belongings I might need. I stumbled to my feet and picked up an old book and some clothes and stuffed them into a ragged old bag. I pulled the light bag over my shoulders and slowly opened the door. I padded quietly down the hallway to my parent’s room, begging the wooden floorboards not to creak. I pulled back the feathery duvet and lifted the corner of the rough, thin mattress. My hand brushed over the plastic purse of twenty-pound notes. I took it and I tucked it under my jumper. I tiptoed back to my room and pulled on my worn out trainers, not noticing the dark figure that silhouetted the bright moonlight coming from my open window.
My ears pricked to the sound of rough material rubbing against the peeling wallpaper of my scrubby bedroom wall. I turned slowly to see a tall shape. The dark figure pulled away the black cloth that covered his eyes, revealing a pair of dark, brown eyes that mirrored my own except that these eyes were not a window to the soul, but a window to a black hole of dark secrets and feelings that any ordinary person would not want to know. I swallowed a scream and sprinted out of the room and plummeted down the stairs. I leapt out of the front door and struggled to open the gate. I heard a familiar voice screaming, “GET HIM!” to his companions, before I took off into the concrete jungle that was the city.
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Two hours earlier
“Well, Jim. What’s for dinner tonight, then?” the jolly voice of his father echoed down the hallway from the kitchen. The boy was about to answer when his mother butted in, “Jim’s not having tea tonight, he’s got football practise and then going to a friend’s house to eat, remember?” Jim could hear his father grunt something unintelligible as he walked in to the sitting room and plunged into the grey couch and switched the TV on to All Star Family Fortunes.
Jim jogged his way through the London housing estate that was his home and came to a stop outside his house. He jumped over the gate and trotted up to the red door. He pressed his pink ear up against the smooth paint and listened. Nothing, he must have imagined it. Jim could’ve sworn he’d heard his Mum and Dad yelling at each-other again. Just then, his cat, Angus, popped his head through the cat flap, nudging Jim’s ankle, making him leap about a foot backwards in fright. He stroked the wobbling, fluffy mess behind the ear before making his way inside the house. His mum must have heard him because a moment later, she came out of the sitting room and ruffled his blonde hair and told him to go to bed. She held a cigarette in her other hand and her usually, bright and beautiful eyes were dull and bloodshot. Her light auburn hair was in a tight bun with strands coming loose. Jim was angry and reluctant, knowing perfectly well what was going on.
I ran up the stairs and heard the sitting room door slam shut before the screaming and shouting commenced. My mother’s voice was weak and cracking, while my father’s usually humble and jolly voice was replaced with a loud boom that could have been a million cannons going off, every blow hurting and deafening. I sat at the top of the stairs and listened for a while. This happened every night, and I wasn’t getting used to it, I was getting more and more frustrated and afraid. I soon got fed up and went into my room and sat at the window, watching the sky until nightfall. After a while, a black expensive car pulled up and two men stepped out. One was balding and quite burly with light, knowing eyes, but I couldn’t help but sense an uncomforting aspect to them. The other, was yet again tall and burly, but this time had rich, brown hair and a mysterious face. I could not see his eyes for they were covered by a black cloth with only a small gap that only the owner could see through. They did seem a bit suspicious to me but, I shrugged it off. I presumed they were my father’s workmates. That was until I caught a silver glint in one man’s hand in the corner of my eye
Jim went to the top of the stairs and watched, unable to understand as to how the two men kicked in the red door, which Jim had only just pressed his ear up against, without making too much noise. Mum and Dad wouldn’t have hear the commotion anyway as they were too busy catapulting insults at each-other. Jim ran back to his room and shut the door, frightened that the men would spot him and, perhaps, capture him. He cursed himself for his own cowardice and crawled to the door and rested his hand on the doorknob. Beads of sweat ran down his forehead and fingers. A sudden gunshot deafened him and he whimpered. Jim instantly regretted being so stupid to not warn his loved ones. “Now look what I’ve done!” he whispered to himself. He could hear the desperate yells of his father, but not those of his mother. Another gunshot... Silence.
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I panted as I continued sprinting down the cracked footpath, my legs never tiring for they were filled with fear and adrenaline. I saw one of the streetlight poles glinting in light and I turned to see the black Bentley speeding around the corner, I skidded around into an alleyway and slithered behind a dustbin. The Bentley sped on by and I breathed a great sigh of relief. I was now lost. I had no home, no family, nothing. There was something nagging at the back of my head, though. Who were these men? What did they want with my parents? I thought I lived in an ordinary family in a London suburban home with a red door, a cat and two bickering parents. I was wrong. Oh, very wrong- we were anything but!
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