the strangers series. (mgk ; machine gun kelly)

2 • 𝖕𝖔𝖎𝖘𝖔𝖓

Lola nudged my shoulder as we walked side-by-side down the cracked sidewalk, her green eyes staring into my brown ones. She chuckled softly as she noticed how quiet I was,
"You good?"
I nodded absentmindedly, keeping my eyes trained on the moon up above as we made our way through a quiet neighborhood. I didn't wanna talk about how I felt drawn to Nick's plug aka the man everyones' daddy warned them about and I also didn't wanna talk about how unfair it was of Nick to keep him a secret from us. After he gave Nick the weed and left with his crew, Nick didn't bother clearing the air about it at all- he acted as if nothing happened. I also clocked the fact that Nick didn't pay him and that he didn't bother demanding for the money. No one else noticed but I did- made me wonder if there was more than meets the eye.
Despite that, I knew that Nick knew I had a fucking bone to pick with him by all the glares I sent his way- but I didn't say shit.
Wish I did.
I let my eyes wander down the road as I studied the houses lining each side of the road. They weren't small but they weren't huge either- there was no doubt we lived in the nicer parts of Cleveland, something I was actually glad for. Each house was two stories with bay windows looking out to the street, some even having porches and patios overlooking the street for summer nights when anyone wanted to relax out front.
Those days were my absolute favorite- watching the little kids laugh and play as all the adults came outside for once and socialized as friends instead of neighbors, drinking responsibly and laughing with each other.
It almost felt normal and enough for me to bear- it didn't make me wanna run away.
I snapped back to reality as I heard Lola sigh dramatically as she, too, stared up at the crescent moon hanging in the night sky,
"Can I tell you something?"
The sudden and abrupt shift in conversation caught my attention. I finally met her gaze as she tucked a stand of her blonde hair behind her ear, her ear piercings glinting in the moonlight,
"Of course- what's up?"
Lola sighed, shrugging her shoulders as we kept walking, our crunching footsteps sounding in unison,
"I'm kinda annoyed with the fact that Nick never told us he was friends with him."
Okay, so i'm not the only one.
I sighed back, building up the courage to say the shit I wanted to,
"I know- Anyone in their right mind would know not to be 'round that man."
She nodded along to my words, her lips pursing up as she formulated words in her head,
"There's something just not right about this whole thing, about him. It's not like Nick to choose the most mysterious, intimidating-lookin' drug dealer. He's dumb but not that dumb."
Lola's footsteps slowed as we reached my house, the both of us noticing the lit living room windows. Great, I was gonna have to face the wraith of my drunk father tonight, after all.
Lola sighed, rubbing my arm reassuringly before breaking off as she crossed the tar road to her house,
"Whatever, i'll text you in a bit, okay? Be safe."
I knew the last part was intended as reassurance- her smile was to give me strength to push on through my father's oncoming bullshit. I regretted the fact that I didn't make a move to tell her how I wanted to know the mystery behind the man but I just nodded as she slipped in through her front door, seeing her giving me a wave before she disappeared behind the door.
The best part of having her so close to me was me being able to go over when I wanted to or whenever I needed her- like on nights like these when I knew my father would be up long enough to see me sneaking back in after my days' endeavors.
I sighed as I walked up the steps to the front door, pushing open the already unlocked door. I was immediately hit with the stench of cigarettes and spilled alcohol- not a surprise.
Despite my father being a somewhat-successful man, as successful as anyone could get in Cleveland, he resorted to drinking his problems away- aka me. He blamed his alcoholism on my behavior but that wasn't it. There was just nothing I could do but take his bullshit. He was right about me- I did make his life somewhat harder by being a 20 year old jobless high school graduate who still lived off him, but he also blamed my mothers' death on me, something that hit a nerve or two.
Said the heart attack she had was from me always going behind them, the stress got to her first before it got to him. I knew it was all fucking bullshit but I couldn't speak my mind on that- he was an unpredictable man, a grenade, and the fact that he had alcohol in his system almost every time I ever saw him made it even more impossible for me to confront him.
I heard his sniffles from the living room as I stood stone cold as a statue in the foyer, tryna think whether making a run to my room would be worth the fight he'd put up by trying to get in.
No, it's not worth it.
I ran my hands through my brown locks as I peeked my head into the living room, seeing his lifeless body splayed on the couch. As per usual, there was a beer bottle clutched in his hands while there were many more empty ones surrounding the couch.
It honestly surprised me how he still had any money left to spare, considering he spent most of his paychecks on alcohol instead of the bills.
As if on cue, he opened his droopy eyes, his head whipping over to meet mine. I gulped a little as I saw his lips purse up, the usual disappointment that overcame his face whenever he looked at me returning in the familiar, green eyes I inherited from him.
The crack in my voice made me cringe but I pushed on, swallowing my impending fear,
"You need anything?"
He scoffed, returning his dazed eyes back on the lit tv screen in front of him. The opening of the beer bottle wound up at his lips again, his throat moving as he gulped down the alcohol.
I watched him run his hands through his messy brown hair, his eyes averting mine as I stepped further in to the room. He cleared his throat, seeming unbothered by my presence,
"Yeah, I need a fucking daughter who doesn't waste her life away with equally-shitty "friends" on a daily fucking basis. Can ya get me that?"
I should be used to his insults by now, seeming that I grew up with this for years, but the burning of my eyes made it obvious that it still got to me.
He didn't used to be like this- he used to be caring and loving, but I guess when I changed, so did he.
I nodded my head slowly, walking back out to the staircase as I raised my voice loud enough,
"It's ironic that you say that."
I heard his menacing chuckle as I made it halfway up the stairs, my heart seizing to beat,
"Wanna fucking repeat that again?!"
I felt my body freeze, waiting to see his angry, distorted face scrunched up, his fists clenched and ready to meet my jaw as he ran up the stairs towards me- but he never came.
I sighed gratefully, forcing my feet to keep moving up the steps,
"Nothing."
As I reached the safety of my bedroom, I heard his sadistic chuckle reaching my ears, his words holding a deeper meaning,
"Yeah, fucking run away like you always do."
I rolled my eyes, closing the door shut so that I was face to face with Blink-182 poster taped to the door.
I felt a stray tear fall down my cheek but I brushed it away, suddenly feeling stupid for crying over that asshole. He wasn't worth my tears or my time.
I sighed as I kicked off my slip on vans and stripped out of my jeans and hoodie, my body growing tired with each second that passed. I just wanted to sleep- it was the only time I could naturally escape for a while. The only time I didn't need drugs to get away.
I didn't bother to slip into anything else, just slumped onto my bed and the unmade sheets in my bra and undies. I stared up at the dark ceiling, willing myself to fall into sleep but I just couldn't. There was too much running through my head and it was slowly killing me. Thankfully, I heard my phone vibrate somewhere on the floor, I picked up my hoodie, reaching into the pockets until I found the iPhone.
I smiled as I saw the welcoming text: