Killjoy ; SetoSolace

| 2 |

| 2 | Famous Last Words Because I'm Fucking Rebellious

***

Maybe it was just the adrenaline of the moment, or maybe it was just one too many cigarettes.

"You do not use that language here!" Mother had scolded. "On top of that, Seto, are you smoking!"

"I'll use whatever fucking language I want, as long as you don't give two shits about me, I won't give two shits about you! You've never gave a shit about my life, so I won't tell you any of it!" I had shouted back, scrunching my nose as I bolted upstairs and towards my room. I slammed the door shut behind me. I heard a picture frame that was hung in the hallway collapse onto the floor, making an irritable crack sound. I quickly locked the door; I need to think rationally and fast.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

I gazed around my room that was plastered with posters of My Chemical Romance, Bring Me The Horizon, Set It Off, Twenty One Pilots, Green Day, Three Days Grace—god never mind, there's just too many to name. I quickly emptied out my backpack, tossed my textbooks aside, and went to grab my things. Might as well start anew, I wanted to get out of this hellhole as well. My father would hang me if he found out of any of this.

"Seto, open up this door!" Mother's voice was sickening, I despised the thought of her trying to convince me to not follow through with it otherwise. It was happening—life was actually happening for once.

Fuck.

I scrambled across my room, opening every drawer in sight and gathering up some clothing that I would wear continuously for as long as I would be gone. I quickly changed into a gray pull-over hoodie, some black jeans, and I kept my converse shoes on. I grabbed my wallet, portable phone charger, a couple of books, multiple lighters, and the rest of the cigarette boxes I've been hiding from my parents and shoved them quickly into my backpack. The banging on the door increased, then turned into kicking and forcibly prying. I zipped up my backpack, sprinted towards the window and attempted to pry it open. God, Isaac was right, I shouldn't have skipped lunch today.

After a couple of stressful seconds, I managed to forcefully open the window. The banging on the door became so loud it sounded like a marching band ready to run me over—the pace of the drums were going at the same pace of my heart, fast and impatient. I quickly hoped out, fearing for my life as I began to make my get away by sliding down the side of one roofs of the house. God, why did I choose my room to be on the second floor?

I managed to reach the end of the roof, it was a long drop. I could probably jump on top of my car, then run by foot to Isaac's house. I nodded to myself, bracing the impact as I jumped on top of my black car, causing a loud alarm to be set off. I gulped, time was running out. Mother could have surely heard the alarm going off. I hopped down from my car's roof and ran past the porch, mindlessly stomped on the fallen flamingo ornament as I was messily creating my getaway, breaking it, and finally reached the exit gates. I managed to squeeze through the golden bars, due to my skinny frame, and I was already out of there.

I managed to run out of the area and out of the "neighborhood" (which really just consisted of a bunch of mansions that were terribly separated by a mass of trees and walls). I didn't know what street I was on, nor did I care, I was out of sight of the mansion and away from my mother. Did she really not take my feeling into account when she was arranging that marriage? What a killjoy.