Roommates

Prologue

2 weeks earlier

Lisa

Running away was never simple. Then again, living with a brother like mine wasn't either.

The note I was leaving, wasn't an apology about how I didn't want to go, but it was for the best and all the other nonsense. No, it was more of a gloat. I was gloating for one simple reason. He could no longer get me and I was safe.

I carried my two crazily humungous bags that were filled to the brim with clothes, food and all other things I needed if I expected to survive on my own. Checking the door, I slowly eased one leg over the window sill of my one story house. The hall light was off, the soft snoring of my brother echoed through the thin walls and the cool breeze of the midnight air blew through the room, sending a chill through me.

Shane was like any other brother, well, except he was the only parent I had. My parents had disappeared when I was ten and Shane was sixteen. From what I remembered, they left on a weekend getaway and never came back. The police would've put Shane and I into foster care, but Shane, like any good brother, had argued that he was old enough to look after us. By the time the whole custody thing had been sorted out, Shane was eighteen and it didn't matter anymore.

Six years later and I was stuck with an alcoholic, abusive brother who thought I looked like a punching bag.

Managing to get over the sill with my duffel bags, i ducked down quickly when I heard my bedroom door swing open. My breath hitched. I heard him clamber around the room. Easing across the side of the house, I made it to a relatively safe zone. Then, Shane pushed his head out of the window and swore and I turned around to see his face, which had already disappeared back into the house. My mind and legs went over drive and I ran. I passed the edge of the house, carrying both heavy duffel bags in each hand. I heard the front door open and my brother stormed out. His face was red and his eyes held evil, only psychopaths knew. And scary, abusive, older brothers.

Tears stung in my eyes and I spotted my car on the side of the road and ran. I was a few metres from the side walk when I was tackled to the ground. My brother recovered from the tackle and as I hissed, he punched me in the jaw. Blood spurted from my mouth and I spat it on his face. He smirked and raised his hand again. Thinking quickly, I lifted a bag and threw it against his body. He collided with the ground with a thundering thump.

I sucked in a gaso of air and scrambled to my feet. I limped to my car, opened the door and threw my bags in. I was about to sit down when I was grabbed from behind. Shane's dauntingly, murderous eyes stared into mine. 

"And where do you think you're going?" he asked coldly.

He seized a clump of my hair in one hand and dragged me in the direction of the house. I cried out in pain and I was hoping one of the neighbours would come out. But it was past midnight and everyone was sleeping. There was really no hope.

With my last ounce of strength, I threw my foot down onto his and in a moment of weakness, he let go of my hair. I winces slightly and then kicked where the sun don't shine.

He fell down and clamped his hand over his manly area. I struggled to laugh and then ran and climbed into my open car. The engine rumbled to life and I pulled out of the street, daring a look in the rear-view mirror to see Shane getting to his knees and yelling like a maniac. My heart thudded in my ears and I felt my throat tighten uncomfortably. My jaw ached with a thousand pins and needles and I knew the ugly blue and black bruise would happily come along and paint its way across my face.

I no longer cared though. I was safe. I was free.

And I was sure as hell wasn't expecting the trouble that came with being free. Trouble that came in many forms.