Effys story (a skins fanfic)

Time flies (4)

Freddie's PoV

These guys seemed dangerous but they were all I had, after all, they had taken me in.

After John attempted to murder me that night, the vision of him beating me over and over was always playing in my head. The life I had felt draining out of me with every blinding hit. The pain a constant reminder of how easy a life can be taken away.

But I had got away, that's all that mattered.

I managed to escape and got on the first plane to America without a single thought. I had to get away and I had nothing in England left for me. It would be easier for everyone if they thought I was dead.

John Foster would have to travel a long way if he was that intent on killing me, I had to escape ASAP.

I was safe here, in New York. Well kinda...

When I first arrived, I had no where to go but these guys had found me wandering the streets and let me stay at their place. I knew they were part of some gang but I had no one else and they had helped me when I needed it.

They taught me how to protect myself on the streets and brought me up like their own. I was one of them now.

Effys PoV
Me and Cook had finally found a place to settle down for a while. It wasn't perfect, in fact it wasn't very far from where we started here and it definitely wasn't a nice area, but it was home for now. I was starting to have trouble with my thoughts again and I knew it was getting worse and worse.

I had told Cook I was taking my tablets but how could I if I had forgotten to pack them? I had packed u my things in such a rush that I had left the selection of pills on my bedside table and now there was nothing I could do but slowly start to lose it again.

Fuck, they're coming back, the voices, telling me I'm not good enough and I'm the reason Freddie had died.
Freddie
Freddie
Freddie
That was the name that stood out no matter how much I tried to get rid of the thought. It was always there. A constant reminder of something I could never have.

Cook had started to bring a new girl home every night and I had to sleep with my earphones on full blast to block out the noises from his room.

I don't blame him.  At least he was doing more than me. Sleeping with  strangers had to be better than being eaten alive by your mind.

The only way we managed to pay for our little apartment was because me and Cook had started to deal drugs to the local gangs on the streets. We provided and they paid and no one spoke a thing about it. It was the only way.

I grabbed the bottle of vodka I hid under my bed and took a swig to try and rid the voices from my head.

I kept swigging and swigging until there was nothing left in the bottle. I closed my eyes and put on my music as I tried to distract myself.

The truth is, ever since we moved to New York, nothing had improved, I may have grown up a bit but I was still the same, messed up, drunk teenager I had always been and Cook had done no better.

But there was no good in life for people like us, we just carried on in the same cycle of distractions.

And that was it. There was no changing that.

6 months later

I had lived in this same apartment with Cook for 6 months now, it was our life. Of course we weren't together in a relationship but he was always there and he made sure I knew it. Me and Cook were closer than ever but not in a romantic way, it was hard to understand but it felt good to have him with me even if we didn't see each other a lot.

I guess you could say I had moved on with my life, well, as much as I could. Cook worked as one of the best drug dealers in New York and we were loaded up on money to pay the bills and put food on our table.
Of course I helped him out sometimes but not regularly as I didn't want to get involved with drugs If I could help it.

I, however had not told anyone that I had no job or entertainment in my life, all I had was emptiness.

Luckily, I had learnt to put on the best facade that I was perfectly fine and doing great with my life when really I needed help more than ever. I needed someone to be there for me, I had forgotten how to love and care and my heart had turned cold and I didn't know who I was anymore. Or maybe I did, and that was the scary part.

It was as if I was the only one on the earth, no one gave a shit about me so I went out each day, walked outside, sat on the same bench to look at the sky, and then back to the house to curl up in my bed and block out he world. Yes my life was still as shit as it was when I left England, maybe even worse.

But I wasn't an emotional wreck anymore and I knew how to control my feelings.