The Intruder (Eren x Levi)

Chapter Two

Hello, readers!  As some of you who knew about this fanfic a lot earlier, it has been completely revised, and the very beginning is very different.

To the new readers, I hope you enjoy what you're in store for!

Pictured above is the outfit Levi is wearing.

Enjoy!

***

"Levi you need to wake up. You need to go apply for jobs. We talked about this."

I heard what she was saying, but frankly, I was too tired to speak. The last thing I wanted to do today was leave the comfort of my bed.

We were doing our best to stay on our feet. We didn't live in the best home or town. We fled our old home the night of my father's death.  We told everyone that we were robbed and my father was murdered in the process, but it wasn't enough for us to feel safe in our hometown. 

Getting a job is what I needed to do, especially since I was getting older, as was my mother, and her health was deteriorating. There was only so much she could do. I wanted to help her in every way in the world but I just..

Couldn't.

It had been quite some time since that night. I was seventeen, then.  The night of the murder my mother and I made a deal to escape town and move to another county.  We didn't need to make the house a mess to fake a robbery-homicide, because dad did enough of trashing the house.  We called the police and told them we found him this way, but that he also had a bad habit of abusing alcohol.  They questioned us as we stuck to our story, even though it was complete bullshit.  They almost began to think that my uncle Kenny was at fault, but quickly ruled that out as he didn't have any business with my father.  Even if he was a violent man, he wouldn't kill anyone without a reason.

After the investigation was over, we evacuated our house and lived with Kenny for a while, my mother making money in ways she thought were secret, but it wasn't that hard to figure out what she was doing.  Every night she would come home with messy hair, her outfit and appearance changing completely from when she left the house, and she always returned with a heaping wad of cash, giving most of it to Kenny.  

I didn't go to school and I didn't really have friends growing up.  Where we moved was a low profile type of town, most of it in poverty, and homes barely standing.  Instead, I stayed home with Kenny, who taught me more ways to use my knife, knowing exactly what happened with me and my dad.  He taught me to be emotionless and not regret any choice that I made.  He also taught me how to cut my own hair, which was getting pretty long.  I could have been mistaken for a girl, back then.  The skills he educated me with made me into a very harsh person, but the world was cruel, and it's not like I had much left to lose.  All I had was him, my mother, and myself.  No friends, no others.  

A few years ago, when I turned twenty-one, Kenny suddenly left.  My mother never knew why, but I kept my mouth shut.  He was turning to alcohol quite often, probably from the stress of caring for my mother and I.  He came home and beat me, sometimes holding a knife to my head and scaring my cheeks.  It got so bad I almost turned against him, just like I had with my father.  I think that's when it finally hit him what he was doing wrong.

Now here I am, well into my twenties, living with my mother, who was dying.  We still had nothing, and occasionally I found myself missing my father.  Not because of who he was to me, but because I knew if he was still alive, he would still be providing for my mother, and we would probably be living a better life.  Guilt clung to my chest like no other, and it still sends a chill down my spine. For something that I wanted, I certainly didn't want to remember it.