Killjoy ; SetoSolace

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| 3 | This Chapter Title Will Be Longer Than My Fucking Life Expectancy In This Airport As A 5'4" Hormonal Teenager Who Cannot See Over Crowds

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All I could do was cry my eyes out until they decided to call me downstairs to leave the city I've called "a half-decent home" for the past sixteen years. My parents found me—they pried me out of the Psy household and forced me to say goodbye to the closest friend that I had and the best motherly figure that was out there for me. They forced me to pack up my things and they were forcing me to leave with them into a new god damned city. Once more, they've failed to take all my opinions into their account.

"It's for the company's own good," they'd claim.

"You're just overreacting," they'd claim.

"Fuck off," I'd 'claim.'

I would never expect a Friday mid-morning to be this gloomy, and I would never had expected such an emotional attachment to a fucking house that didn't even belong to me in the first place. I taped shut the last of the boxes that held my items and shoved them down the flight of stairs. The boxes tumbled loudly, eventually knocking over, and breaking, a couple of potted plants that were situated on the floor.

Seven points.

I laughed and sat on the top of the staircase. I reached into my back pocket and took out a cigarette box, followed by a cigarette, as well as a lighter. What happened next was easy—I just simply smoked another cigarette. The mansion didn't belong to my family anymore and was put up for sale for about, what, a million dollars? Might as well trash the place as long as I'm here, it gave me all sorts of shitty memories. Mother strolled out of her (ex)room and looked me dead in the eyes, I could tell she was disappointed in my behavior. All she could do was sigh, hold her breath, and jog down the stairs with a box that was labeled "CLOTHING."

"Seto, we're leaving in a couple minutes, put your shoes on and get in the car. The movers will be taking everything from here." Mother's voice sounded so bland and defeated that a stale potato chip could have a said it better. I simply just stood up, jogged down the stairs, and went to open the door. I slammed it shut behind me.

The air was dry, it made my lips feel chapped. I gave an exasperated sigh before getting into a small minivan that was parked on the gravel. I sat in the back, my headphones on my neck and my phone resting comfortably in my hand. I had already threw my cigarette away onto the lawn, and was ready to mute the world with my music. Father was sitting cross armed in the driver seat, looking at me from the rear view mirror. I awkwardly buckled my seatbelt, the clicking noise making me tense up for a brief moment. God, I didn't know how my parents could cope with my shitty behavior.

Mother eventually came into the car, sitting down in the passenger seat and buckling her seatbelt. Father started the car and began to drive towards the golden gate that I had managed to squirm through prior to this day. The gates slowly churned open, making an irritable creaking noise that reminded me of Isaac's staircase. I simply put on my headphones and prepared myself for the ever so long journey to the airport.

Bye shitty mansion.

Bye shitty neighbors.

Bye shitty life.

And hello to another shitty life that laid ahead of me like an open road.

I curled my fingers into my jeans and bit my lip, angry. I didn't want to go, and part of me just wanted to jump out of this car and run straight to Isaac's house—straight to his mother and straight to a loving "older brother." There was no possible chance, I was like a lion in a cage, trapped and just used as a view of entertainment. I wonder if my parents purposely sought after a woman that I would despise for their amusing entertainment.