Dinah Jane Imagines

Little Nala

Prompt: Dinah's life at home isn't exactly idealistic, but she finds solace in you - the one that nicknamed her "Little Nala"

They were arguing AGAIN. Usually it was about the insane amount of unreasonable bills my mom racked up at the local shopping malls or the dependency my dad had on alcohol, but this time was different; they were arguing about ME.

"Why can't you just send her off to stay with your goddamn mom?" My dads loud, drunken voice shouted from the foyer downstairs.

"Because my mom and I haven't talked in years! Why can't you lay off the fucking vodka long enough to take her to yours?" My mom's voice even louder and more obnoxious than my dads.

"I don't need to fucking do shit! You know what, Dinah's sixteen, she can take care of her damn self. Lets go Mikayla!"

"We'll be back in a few days Dinah! Don't wait up!" And with that both my parents walked out of the front doors, leaving me alone and vulnerable in this house by myself. Luckily my problems were slowly beginning to evolve into prospects.

Whenever my parents used to leave me alone before, I used to stay curled up in my room with the doors locked and enough food in my room to keep me satisfied from having to explore a scary house where anything could've happened. I was about ten or eleven the last time I was alone.

Then one night when I was attempting to get some sleep, maybe I was eleven or twelve then, somebody stumbled into my bedroom window and fell on the floor, landing with a soft "fuck". I bolted out of my sleep and instantly started to silently cry as I rolled underneath my bed.

The person, who I could make out to be a female a few years older to me turned over on her stomach and held onto her head which she must've hit when she fell through my window. It took her a few minutes, but when she finally stopped cursing and swearing about the pain in her head, it happened; our eyes met.

Now I was only eleven or twelve, so I didn't know that what I was feeling was infatuation, but I knew that somehow she wouldn't PURPOSEFULLY do anything to hurt me - I hoped.

"H-holy shit, there's a little girl under my bed." She mumbled to no one in particular as she stared at me. I noticed she wore a black jacket and really really short blue jean shorts with a pair of white Tom's like mine, only in a bigger size. She had a few tattoos on her legs and from the area her shirt didn't cover - which I found out later on was a crop top - I could make out a little metal piece in her belly button.

"T-this i-is m-my r-room." I stuttered like I was frozen solid and flinched backwards, hitting my leg on the bed rail as she crawled towards me.

"Y-your room? Oh shit no, I'm in the wrong house again!" I had no idea what she was talking about, and judging by the way she looked around my room, she had no idea where she was.

"Hey, did I scare you little one?" I nodded, wiping a few tears from my eyes.

"Oh sweetheart I'm sorry. I made a stupid decision tonight honey. Promise me something okay: Whatever happens in your life, don't EVER drink alcohol. It'll mess your life up."

I nodded, not knowing what else to say. The girl studying me across my bed seemed remotely familiar, but it was dark and my eye sight wasn't the best without my glasses.

"You can come out from under there you know. I promise I won't hurt you." My mom and dad had already given me the typical protocol of not talking to strangers, but then again my mom and dad were about as uncoordinated and lousy as they come.