If It's In You; a Syd Barrett Fanfic

One

February, 1961.
"Roger, darling! You're insane!"
"Nonsense, Abigail, just having fun!"
I giggle as Roger pulls me into the girls locker room and shuts the door. He pulls me into a hug, and I could hear his heart beating perfectly. Me being 5'2" has its advantages, y'know.
"Here Abigail." Roger says as he hands me a cigarette. "Let's crawl out that window." He continues, lighting his own cigarette.
"Roger it's our senior year, why must we skip every day? Why not just drop out?" I ask him, fitting through the slim window.
"Ya want to, dear?"
"Yes, very much so."
"Then, that was our last day of school!"
I giggle and kiss him. We hold hands, running through the streets of Cambridge. We run to the park, where we walk through a large open field. He picks me up and kisses my neck. Oh, how I love him. I've never been this much in love with anyone or anything.
"Roger dear, I love you." I say, kissing him.
After a few hours of us frolicking around and wasting time, Roger and I see two school mates, David Gilmour and Roger Waters, approaching us. Yes, it does sometimes get confusing with two Rogers. But Waters calls my Roger 'Syd'. But that's only around them.
"'Ello Syd!" David calls out.
"Alright mate?" Waters inquiries.
"Yea, mate. Want to head back to my place and play some music?" Roger asks them two.
"Yea!" They all chant in unison.
I turn towards Roger and smile.
"Y'know if ya want to you can come. We always play in the front room, sometimes the tenants come and listen. So it won't be too terribly crowded," Roger offers me, running his fingers through his short hair.
"No dear, I had best be ge'in 'ome. Mum will 'ave a bird."
"Oh alright. Well, I love you dear. Ring me later."
"Okay babe. I love you too."
And with that, I head back to the hell hole where I live.
--
"Abigail?" My mom inquiries as I peep through the door.
I hold my breath and walk into the kitchen, where she's drinking straight from a bottle of vodka. She stands up and trudges towards me.
"Why are you late?" She asks.
"I- I- I was at the park." I stutter out.
"Why?" The smell of vanilla vodka hints her breath.
"I was with a friend."
"Oh, I bet you told them that I'm an abusive goddamn bitch! Your life is so bad isn't it!"
I felt tears start to form in my eyes. Roger doesn't know what she's like. But he does know I don't like being home. No one knows, actually. I'm alone, I have never had anyone, ever.
I run to my room and lock my door. I pull out my guitar and pluck a few strings. Eventually a song is formed, and I write the chords down.
After a few hours of being locked in my tiny room, I hear my dad's car pull up.
Oh god. I push a dresser against my door so no one can come in.
I hear his heavy footsteps walking through the hall.
"Mildred!" I hear him yell.
"OH! BACK FROM ONE OF YOUR FUCKING AFFAIRS?!" My mom responds.
"What did you say to me?" I imagine him grabbing my moms face at this point.
"I said-"
I hear a smack.
"I KNOW WHAT YOU SAID!"
I hear them start screaming and fighting. Suddenly there was a loud bang, and then silence.
I run out of my window and through my yard, clutching my bag and my guitar. I had been packing all week, but now I have to leave.
I don't know where I'm going. I have a twenty pound note, a few changes of clothes, my guitar, journal, song book, some books, magazines, and art supplies.
I run away from my home to the best of my ability, partially being weighed down by the two bags I'm carrying.