I Don't Belong Here ~Book 1~ (HP fanfic)

Chapter 1: Is This a Joke?

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own or claim anything that belongs to JK Rowling. The main character in this story, Mirabella Mason, is my creation and is the only thing that does not belong to JK Rowling. The storyline is slightly different, but is based off of JK Rowling's Harry Potter books, as this is a fan fiction. 

This story is labled as All Rights Reserved, merely for the fact that my character is original and the story is through her POV. I am not saying that I reserve the rights to JK Rowlings work! 

I Don't Belong Here

Chapter 1: Is This a Joke? 

The rain pelted against my bedroom window, distracting me from listening to the blaring sounds of the television downstairs. I left my post by the door and peered out of the window. I could barely make out the blurry street lamps through the rain soaked glass. The lights shined through the tree branches, casting disfigured shadows on my walls, which danced across my room with every gust of wind. The wind howled, sending sheets of rain slapping against my window. Lightening forked across the sky, and then, seconds later, a wave of thunder reverberated throughout the house.

Though the storm was close and my imagination formed the shadows into gruesome figures, I was not afraid. Any other eleven year old girl would have been trembling from the thunder and terrified of the shadows, but not me. I had nothing to fear from a mere storm or even the strange phantoms lurking on my walls. No, the one thing that frightened me the most was exactly thirteen stair-steps beneath me on the couch watching the late night television programs.

Suddenly, the street lights flickered and then everything went dark. I could no longer hear any sounds from within the house. The power had gone out and with it the television. The silence was short-lived because soon my father was screaming profanities at the T.V. from the family room below. After a while of yelling, he must have given up on the hope of the power returning, and I heard him stumble up the stairs.

My whole body trembled as I blindly sought out a hiding spot in the dark room. I bumped into my dresser and slid behind it just as my bedroom door flung open. The door hit the wall, creating nearly as much noise as the thunder. My father stumbled into my room, reeking of alcohol. He began his vicious search for me, ripping the blankets off of my unmade bed, looking under the bed, wrenching my closet door open, and swinging blindly at the air. 

He walked closer to my hiding spot and I held my breath daring myself not to make a single sound. He crashed into my dresser, slamming me back into the wall as the dresser smashed against my face. As much as it hurt, I didn't let a single whimper escape my mouth. I was good at hiding my pain. Deciding that I either wasn't in my room or that he just didn't have the patience to find me in his drunken state, my father swore, kicked the dresser, and left, slamming my door shut on the way out. There would be no beating tonight.  

My father used to be a very different man, but that man had died long ago when my mother died in a car accident five years ago. After her death, he started drinking and I soon learned that my father was a violent drunk. It didn't help the fact that he blamed the death of his beloved wife on me. You see, if it weren't for me, my mother would not have been on the road that night. Earlier that day, I had run away for some stupid reason that I don't even remember. At first my parents had thought that I would return home before dark like I always did, but I didn't and they became worried. They each took separate cars and drove out searching for me. I was hiding in the park when my dad found me and brought me home.  We waited for my mother to return, but she never did. The next morning we found out that she was involved in an accident with a drunk driver, she had died instantly. Ever since then, I've had to live with my abusive father. I avoided him at all costs because whenever he saw me he would beat me.