Dad-Buscus (Toby Turner Fan Fiction)

Chapter 12: I'm on my own now.

3 Months Later~

Viviane's P.O.V

This house is a living Hell.

It's just me and Uncle Jim and I absolutely hate it.

The house is really small and gross.

The school is really small and gross.

Uncle Jim is really small and gross.

Everything is just really small and gross.

Apparently, if you're a girl, you're basically a slave in Uncle Jim's eyes.

Which means I have to cook, clean, get good grades, cater to his every need, and set up all his stupid dates.

Although I haven't resorted to cutting, I have quit art. 

It just doesn't help me anymore. I have no inspiration, no need to draw, no need to doodle. It's just boring now.

After getting home from another boring day at school, I run upstairs and throw my book bags on my small, gross bed.

I quickly zoom through my homework, because it's really easy and I already finished most of it in class.

Once I glare at the clock, it's around 4:30, which means I should probably start dinner before Uncle Jim gets home and throws a tantrum.

I rush downstairs, almost tripping over my own feet and start to make spaghetti.

After finishing the meal, I make three plates. One for me, one for Uncle Jim, and one for whatever sleeze bag he's gonna bring home tonight.

It's Thursday, which means he always brings home some awkward chick from a club or something home.

I finished my food and was washing dishes in the sink when Uncle Jim and his busty blonde of the evening came stumbling through the door.

"Viviane!!" I hear his deep, raspy voice shout out.

"I'm in the kitchen, sir!" I shout back.

They both stumble their ways into the kitchen.

"Where the hell is our dinner?" he booms.

"In the microwave.." I sigh, taking both plates out of the mechanic device and holding them out for the two dumb fudges to take.

They both snatches it out of my hands and went to the dining room.

I went back upstairs and sat on my bed.

Ugh.

Why does life have to suck?

Why does everything have to go wrong in my life?

Why did Toby ship me off to this place?

Why does Uncle Jim have a drinking problem?

What do you get out of drinking?

What do you get out of smoking?

What's the point of it all?

I hear Uncle Jim's bedroom door slam, and I figure they won't be out for a while. If you catch my drift.

I sneak my way out of my room and down the stairs.

I go to the drawer that Uncle Jim keeps his stash of alcohol in.

I open the bottle and take a swig, then I start to cough instantly.

Ew. This stuff is gross. Why does he drink it?

Maybe it's just this bottle?

I take a few sips out of the other bottles, and by the end of it all, I feel dizzy, but I also start to feel a buzz.

I stumble back to my room and lightly shut the door.

I stare at my room.

This place is stupid!

I pick up my cup full of pencils and throw them across the room.

This place is gross!

I pick up my binders and toss them into the wall.

I hate it here!

I pick up a lamp and fling it as hard as I can.

I hate life!

I somehow manage to pick up my nightstand and throw it at the door.

"What the hell is your problem?!" I hear a familiar voice shout.

"I hate you!" I scream back.

I'm done here.

I'm done with everything.

I'm done with everyone.

What's the point of staying here?

I'm much better on my own!

With that, I pack up a few clothes and shove it into my backpack and I open my window.

I stare at the ground for a minute, before jumping out.

Not like Jim's gonna miss me anyways.

He doesn't care.

Who else is there to care?

Not me.

I don't give a single ounce of a care anymore.

I'm on my own in this fricking world.