Bad Intentions

Prologue

Songs for this chapter are...

Heart Like Yours- By Willamette Stone

Sister Snow- by Silences

Sweetest Kill- by Broken Social Scene

Know Your Exit- by Vivian Darkbloom

They moved here in the middle of October just as the leaves were turning red and the gentle rainy weather began.
I was washing the dinner plates when the movement of a large truck pulled me out of my stuper as it parked in the empty driveway across the street.
An older man and woman both got out of the cab, followed by a toddler and then a young man with unruly hair and tight jeans.
I smiled at the seemingly happy family and turned my attention back to mine.
My father sat solemly at the kitchen table, no places set except for the two of us. He seemed to be thinking hard about something, and I flinched guiltily at the sight of his dirt stained hands. They were calloused and worked to the bone in order to support a family.
A family of two.
"What're you thinking about?" I asked, elbow deep in bubbly dish water. He shook his head and replaced his grimace with a smile so stark in contrast to his hands that I felt sorry for him.

"Just how proud I am of my daughter" he remarked, and I wanted to call him out on his lie, but couldn't because of his tired expression.

"It's no big deal, dad." I gush at the mention of the acceptence letter I received earlier in the mail for Buckingham University, trying to ignore the fluttery feeling in my stomach.
My father places a hand on my shoulder and glances out the kitchen window to the new family across the street.
The parents are carrying in suit cases while the toddler rolls a red ball across the gravel to the other boy. He gently rolls it back. I can't see his face because of his jacket hood, but I could swear I hear him laughing.

"Time for me to go to bed." My father says quietly. I pat the hand that still rests on my shoulder. He switches off the hallway light and dissappears into his room, leaving me alone on this rainy London evening.

I switch off the kitchen light, leaving the house in complete darkness, save for a few stray beams of dusk light that shine through the windows.

The little boy giggles below and chases after the ball that his brother has kicked too hard. It rolls into our yard and into the dead bushes. He retrieves it and holds it above his head triumphantly.

Buy no one is paying attention to him anymore.

The mother stands in the doorway with her arms crossed, shaking her head repeatedly in a defeated motion.

The older son makes wide gestures with his hands as the father angrily stocks toward him.

The older son shoves the father.

The mothers shoulders fall.

The little boy kicks the ball down the street.

A happy family no more....I guess looks can be deceiving.