Holland.

chapter 1

Before we start, I would like to say, any spelling, grammar or any other problems, feel free to let me know so that I am able to fix them.

Also, thank you for giving my story a chance, if I'm being honest, I'm not sure where I'm going with this story, but I am trying.

Word count : 1465

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"I am mine.
Before I am anyone else's."

The chilly October air licked at my body as the duvet covers were ripped away. All heat instantly fled away from me, leaving me cold, and groggy. A low hiss escaped my lips as I reached out my hand, blindly searching for the bedding. I wrapped an arm around myself in an attempt to keep warm.

"Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey." Sang a deep, muscular voice loudly.

With a deep frown etched on my face, I slowly opened my eyes. My blurry vision struggling slightly before settling on the source of the commotion. My twin brother, Harrison. Scowling, I held out my hands expectantly, waiting for the covers. Harrison, however threw himself on top me.

What an Asshole.

"Oh for god sakes Harry! Get off of me, you fat lump of junk!" I yelled, disgruntled, pushing against him with as much force as my frail body could muster. But to no avail, his strong, tanned frame never even budged.

A small grin spread across his face, causing his eyes to brighten suddenly.

"Aw, Holly, I know you aren't a morning person, but you really are wounding me." He said, placing a hand over his heart, mockingly. "You're supposed to be nicer to me than this. And besides, our dearest mother told me to come and get you up."

I ignored him, after a few moments, his weight shifted and I rolled over in the new double bed. Staring at the ceiling of my new room, the familiar feeling of dread overcoming me. I tried to ignore it.

I missed my old room. I missed my old house, I missed my friends, and most importantly I missed my old life. But I knew, deep down, this is for the best.

Annoyingly enough, Harrison is still here, lounging at the end of my bed, his big brown eyes staring hopelessly at the ceiling, his finger poking me consistently.

"ugh, why?" I asked, rubbing away the sleep embedded in my eyes.

It was a Sunday morning, what in the world could my dearest mother possibly want? She usually let me sleep in, in fact, she usually ignored my entire existence. And it was only, I glanced towards the clock on my cluttered nightstand, 7:34 AM. Harrison's eyebrows pulled together in confusion

"Because it's our first day of school," he said, his eyebrows raised.

I sat up, smirking at him. "Ha, ha. It's a Sunday. It's not going to work on me again, buddy. But nice try." I said smugly, crossing my arms. He faked a shocked look, and I laughed. Confused? Don't worry, I'll explain. The last time one of the boys came to wake me up for school, they had told me I was late. To cut a long story short, my father tried attacking me with a baseball bat, as I was frantically running around the house, at 3:56 in the morning. Sadly, I still haven't lived that down. "Now can you please leave? I have some serious napping to do." I continued, pulling the covers over my head.

The weight from my brothers body left the bed, "No, you moron, it IS Monday." He laughed, before ripping the covers off of my pajama ridden body once more, and waltzing out of the room.