Angel in the Ashes

I have apparently decided to try a One Direction fanfiction... I hope this turns out well.

Just a warning, 1D doesn't actually appear in the story until about  the third chapter.

Enjoy!!! xx

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“Pull yourself together, Clara.” I hissed at myself. It wasn’t the first time my dad had smoked inside the house. And it certainly wouldn’t be the last, unfortunately. The foul stench of the cigarette stung my nose painfully and I crinkled my nose at the unpleasant smell.

The smoke alarms in the small flat were disabled and my father was lounging on the ratty, faded orange couch. I darted quickly through the small kitchen and slipped into my bedroom. I flung my backpack onto my bed and pushed the window wide open. It was the middle of November and nearly freezing outside, but I couldn’t leave the window closed and continue choking on the stench of the tobacco.

I looked around my room. It was a small rectangle with pale blue walls. It wasn’t very big, it wasn’t very nice, but it was home. I’d grown up in this small bedroom; the only thing that has changed is the bed.

I sighed heavily through the sour smell of the smoke and picked up my backpack. I pulled my textbooks out of the canvas bag and started to work on my homework.

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Sometime around 6 o’clock, my mum’s voice floated down the hallway, calling me out into the kitchen for dinner. Dinner in our house wasn’t a very formal affair. Normally my dad eats on the couch, watching football, and my mum and I eat at the kitchen table.

Today, however, was different. My mum had food already on plates, like always, but my dad was sitting at the table for once. I faltered as I walked into the kitchen, shocked that he was actually in the kitchen. But soon after I entered the kitchen, my dad stormed out, grabbing his plate on his way.

“Wait, Rory, please eat dinner with us.” My mum pleaded. I didn’t understand why it was so important to her, it was always like this.

“No, Amy.” My dad stated forcefully. That’s when everything went up in smoke, literally. The cigarette that dangled from my dad’s mouth fell to the carpet of the living room, still lit. I didn’t realize just how quickly carpet could burn until my home went up in flames.

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The firemen came as soon as possible, but it was already too late. Our small flat was charred beyond any hope. My mum wept for the memories. My dad wept for the money. But I couldn’t bring myself to weep.

The smoke and ashes in the air stung my eyes as I stared at the remains of the only place I’d ever called home. I looked at my parents who were standing just behind me, huddled for warmth in the freezing November air.

“I want to go live with Aunt Lacy.” I said in a firm tone. I didn’t want to even look at my parents; they had destroyed my home both literally and metaphorically. With words and vices.

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I hope you liked it :)

Vote and comment and all that... Yeah...

I'll see you next week!!!

xx

ChampagneTiger