Don't Get Too Attached ~Prologue~

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Thanks to @GlitterRain8299 for the amazing cover <3

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Prologue

I sat in the car, looking out of the window at what was once our house. Without the curtains in the windows, and my mum’s welcome mat at the doorstep, it looked lonely. I stared at it until it was out of sight, my eyes brimming with tears. No. I wasn’t going to cry. I hadn’t cried since I was seven, and I wasn’t going to start now. I blinked away the tears and rested my head in my hands.

In the front seat, my mum was trying to convince me that this was for the best, but her words brushed over me, barely registering in my mind. I was too preoccupied to listen. We had been living in that house since I was born; it was where I’d grown up. I was going to miss it. I was going to miss the few friends I had, the school which I was so familiar with, but most of all, I was going to miss The Club. I had been a member of the club for nearly nine years, and I was their unbeatable champion.

I had taken up boxing when I was six; my dad had thought it was a good way for me to release my anger. Even though I despised it at first, I can’t thank my dad enough. Not only did the club make me tough on the outside, it taught me not to get too attached to people, because in the end, they’d always hurt you.

The three hour drive to Cambridge, the city we were now living in, seemed to last forever as we trailed behind the moving van. I hadn’t been to see the house, heck; I didn’t even know we were moving until last week. My parent didn’t tell me earlier because they knew I’d get angry, and I had stopped talking for three days before I realised they weren’t going to change their minds. I hadn’t seen any pictures, and I refused to hear what it was like. I didn’t want to move.

Change was one of the things I hated most. When I was six, my brother left us to go to university. He’d promised me he would never leave, but he did. Then he promised to keep in touch, but after a month he stopped calling and never came to visit. That was how my anger problems started. I was so mad at him for ignoring me that I began taking it out on other people. I’d been suspended from school twice before, but when I took up boxing; I was able to take my anger out on the punch bag, instead of other people.

When I was eleven, my brother came back home, he apologised for not calling and for never visiting and I forgave him. But when I was twelve, he left again, this time to go and start a family of his own. I hadn’t seen him again since then and neither had my parents.

It’s like he decided that he didn’t want us anymore, and that was when I’d figured it out.

Don’t get too attached to people, because in the end, you’ll get hurt.

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