Judge's Daughter[Billie Joe Fan-Fic](Slow Updates)

Chapter One

The irritating alarm on my phone yanked me out of my restless sleep and the moment I gained consciousness I began to feel anxious about going to yet another new school. At this point it was getting pretty ridiculous how much Macy and I moved around, we either had to move due to insufficient funds to pay rent, or it got too dangerous to stay there. Macy had an unsteady ‘job’ of being a prostitute so there was never a guarantee that we would be living at the same apartment for longer than a few months, after a while sex stops paying our rent. If it got too dangerous to remain at the same residence it was probably because Macy owed someone a large sum of money, which happened more often than I anyone else I know of.

I once used to call Macy by her appropriate title of ‘mom,’ but far as I am concerned I don’t have a mother… All I have is the outer shell of what my mom used to be. My mom was a beautiful woman, inside and out, but now she has deep set purple bags under her eyes, and her skin is left pale and wrinkled from her excessive drug use. Then again, I couldn’t really blame her for acting the way she does. After all, I am the reason my dad is dead and she knows this all too well.

By now we have traveled throughout most of southern California so now we were trying our luck a few miles north of the last town we lived in. from I knew the only good thing to come out of this new school would be me being out of the house for a few hours in the day. I usually don’t go out much so when Macy, my mother, brings her ‘clients’ home I can hear everything they do. Unfortunately this apartment also had very thin walls. The house we had before Dad died put this one to shame; the whole apartment could probably fit in our garage. I love that house, and not because it was huge and extravagant, it was because everywhere I went in that house held a memory of Dad. Some people move out of their homes because they memories are too painful, but this wasn’t the case with me. I loved every second of these memories, it made me feel like he hadn’t completely left me, and I still held onto some part of him.

With a sigh I threw my blankets off me and swung my feet over the edge of the bed. My bare feet touching the cold hardwood floor sent a jolt through my system and woke me up enough to get out of the bed. I shuffled tiredly to the bathroom where I peeled off my clothes. Once the water was the right temperature I stepped under the stream and let the water revive my body. As I washed my hair my mind wandered to Dad again, he would never treat me like Macy does. Then again, maybe Macy only treats me this way because he died. Don’t get me wrong, she wasn’t a ball of sunshine while he was still alive, but she still loved me and Dad. I guess I shouldn’t be making excuses for her, not after what she has done and said to me.

A long while ago I used to call Macy, Mom. We were the perfect family; Dad had a more than respectable job and Mom stayed at home with me. Dad was a judge, and he was a highly respected amongst the town’s people. He owned a law firm filled with the three best lawyers in Las Angeles. He was one of the three and he helped many of the town’s people in their time of need. In fewer words everyone loved him, especially me. I felt that Dad was a superhero because he fought every day in hopes that good will prevail over evil. Then on Valentine’s Day one year everything changed, evil prevailed over the good and he was shot in the heart.

Mom was grief stricken, she cried all day every day for months. She would even yell at ‘god’, cursing him for taking her husband away. I had never seen her so broken. Things started to change about six months after Dad’s passing, Mom had lost all emotion. She was a drone as far as I was concerned, but at the time I didn’t know what made her pupils so small… I didn’t know what drugs were… Life got progressively worse, we lost the house and Mom kept selling things to feed her addiction until we had nothing left. That’s when she sold the only thing she had left- herself. She never tried to hide it from me and I didn’t know what to do, so I did nothing besides began hating her. My school fund this year didn’t even come from Macy; it came from my Grandma on Dad’s side. She told me at his funeral that she would help out how ever she could. I suppose I could have told her what Macy was doing, but I didn’t want to inconvenience her.