Sexual Seduction

Prologue

[16 year old Ebony Burns on the side (or up above)]

SONG OF THE CHAPTER:
Two Fingers by Jake Bugg

PROLOGUE:

It is the thirteenth of August today. I am greeted in the morning with a birthday card that simply reads 'Ebony, Happy 16th, from mum.' No kisses, no 'love', just a sticker on the back with the price - 25p - that she hadn't even attempted to peel off.

My mum (or Stace as she preferred to be called) threw a carton of orange juice onto my bed. "Happy birthday," she mumbled, walking out of my room and closing the door behind her. I peered at my walls, the pink wallpaper adorned with Princesses peeling to show the old wallpaper underneath. Then I looked down at the orange juice carton on my lap and let out a sigh.

I knew my mum had struggled to raise me for sixteen years but it wasn't as if she didn't have a good, well paying job. She would complain most of the time that I ate too much, washed too much or slept too much. We got on well when I was younger but that was because I knew nothing about anything. I didn't know my mum drank alcohol every night that she didn't have work, getting herself absolutely obliterated.

I didn't know that my mum brought back men. Lots of men. There were men in business suits, men who looked like they needed spare change and men who practically walked into our house with their trousers down. This had gone on since I was around five as my mum had slept with a boy in year nine who she thought she'd be with forever. That's how I was born, by accident.

She was only thirteen when she had me, forced to become an adult when she was only just becoming a teenager. And that's why my mum is the way she is. By my poorly calculated measurements, she hasn't showed me affection in at least ten years. For some reason, I've been totally okay with that. I had friends who had two parents, whereas I could hardly say that I had one.

I know, whenever I have a birthday, that I'll get something under two pounds. And that's fine with me. It's been this way since I can remember. My mum doesn't spend money on me otherwise she wouldn't be able to afford a new dress every week; skin tight and well above the knee. Maybe there is still a glimmer of hope that she cares about me, considering I am her child. I mean, you can't really get closer than that, can you?

I'm turning sixteen today. My friend, Lennon, has demanded that we go bowling. She said it's the least she could do for me, especially considering my mum would never take me bowling. Apparently, according to Lennon's verdict, your sixteenth birthday should be one you never forget. I doubt I will remember throwing a couple of coloured balls down an aisle -- something I could probably do in a supermarket -- especially considering I'm only turning sixteen.

Once I change into plain black skinny jeans and a plain white t-shirt, I am ready to face the boring events of today. I know nothing exciting will happen, it'll be the same as when I turned fifteen and Lennon took me to Pizza Hut. I was appreciative of it, of course I was, but I don't enjoy the part where she pays for it with her money. It's not fair, especially considering the fact that I can't take her somewhere nice for her birthday. I wish I could treat her the way she treats me but I can hardly afford a card let alone an amazing gift.

Out of all the people, I've finally landed an interview for tomorrow morning. Unfortunately, it's only an eight hour job and the pay isn't that spectacular but it's still money. Yes, I'll be tasked with putting stock out and aiding customers but who cares? A job is a job. Well, that's one way to put it.

Just as I get ready to go downstairs for my breakfast, my mum - Stace - comes bursting into my room. The expression on her face isn't a good one and I am left expecting the worse.