One Shots

Chris Motionless/Ghorror

"Get off my fucking case!" I screeched, shoving his much larger body with as much strength as I could muster. He was mad. Pissed. Furious. Fuck me if I care, though. "All you ever fucking do is baby me! I'm done being a fucking doll!"

I saw his fists clench, but he had more self control than to hit me, yet. "Go to your room, Freya." I rolled my eyes. "No." I turned on my heel to storm out of the house, but his whore was blocking my way.

"Get. Out. Of. My. Way." I gritted my teeth together, arms crossed as I waited for the skinny little skank to move so I could finish my dramatic exit. Her black painted lips drooped down into a frown. "Freya, where are you going to go, honey? It's near dark out-" I snarled, shoving her the rest of the way out of the front entrance so that I could leave. "Don't 'honey' me. You're not my mom."

I'd barely mumbled the sentence, but I felt Dad's eyes burning holes into my skull as I uttered the truthful words. "Freya Jane Cerulli!" I made the mistake of looking back. I saw the anger in my father's eyes, and I flinched back slightly.

The skank put her hand on my Dad's arm, and I snorted. "That's right, let her fuck all of your pain away father." I sneered maliciously, whipping back around and making a break for the front door.

I was so fed up with being a constant publicity stunt. The only time my Dad pretended to care was when it benefitted the band, it seemed. Outside of the interviews and the events, he busied himself with women.

He's never really paid any attention to what I've done, as long as my nanny chauffeured me to the correct venue on time, so you can imagine my reaction to him throwing away my stashes of recreational drugs and yelling at me for throwing my life away. Long story short; it wasn't fucking pleasant.

Tears of frustration flooded my cheeks, streaking today's eyeliner and mascara in the worst way possible. I wish I had enough fucks to give, but the sun was going down, and I could only run for so long.

My pace slowed down to a brisk walk while I caught my breath, names and faces racing through my head as I searched for someone to confide in for the night.

Mom. I whimpered aloud at the mere thought of being around her again. It had been so long since I'd been allowed to be near her, I could hardly remember the way her hugs felt. Dad always said she was a slut and a bad influence, but I've figured out he's not much better. What's the harm in trying?

I pulled my phone out of my back pocket, shakily scrolling through my contacts until I got to the one of never used. This is only in case of an absolute emergency. Wanting to get away from your ignorant father is an emergency, right? Right.

"Hello?" I sucked in a deep breath. "M-mommy?" I stuttered, hoping she wouldn't hang up on me before I could tell her what I needed. On the other end of the line, my mother gasped. "Oh my shit! Richard, get the keys!" She yelled, her voice caught somewhere in between excitement and anxiousness. "What's wrong, baby girl? Where are you?"

I slid down the bricks of a nearby store, letting tears of frustration fall as my eyes scanned for a street sign. "I- I really don- Seventh!" I gasped, slightly over excited to have finally found the small green sign perched on a street lamp.

Mom hung up, telling me she was on her way and not to move. I didn't have much trouble following her request, as all my energy had been spent on my run from the prison I called home.

The sound of heels clicking on the pavement made me shoot my head up from its resting place in between my knees. I locked eyes with perfectly lined stormy blues, and I heard her footsteps quicken.

"Oh, baby girl." Mom crouched down and wrapped her slender arms around me. "My sweet, sweet baby." Her whispered words made a blush rise up on my cheeks. "You're going to freeze." Mom frowned, turning her head to look up at her husband of three years. "Ricky, can you carry her to the car for me?" She asked. "I've got a sperm donor to deal with."

I watched her stalk off with her phone to her ear, no doubt about to give Dad an earful for my current state of distress. I could only hope she was mad enough to ignore anything he tried to say about the bags of goodies he found in my room.