Breaking the Player

I hate this, I hate this so damn much. I'm driving down the motorway behind a moving truck screaming ACDC's Highway to Hell as my only form of protest. People are looking at me like I'm mental, I guess that's how it must look, I mean I'm driving with my car top down, hair not even brushed, screaming classic rock songs at the top of my lungs in a top with Dean Winchester dressed as a gym teacher on it. I hate this situation, I hate where we're moving to and I really hate dad.

One week earlier

"WE'RE WHAT? I won't do it, you can't make me go, I'll live on the streets. YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!" 

"LUCIA SAMANTHA GRATE, sit down now."

Oh sh*t was I in trouble, dad never full names us. I sat down immediately.

"I have to go, otherwise I lose my job, I know two years is a long time but you guys don't have to move to America with me. I'll be back every month, at least, to see you guys. I promise, I'll miss you too but I have to go."

"This isn't about you leaving, I don't want to move, I don't want to go back, I don't want to see those people, I-"

"YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE YOUR AUNT?" Dad yells, cutting me off. He's so protective of his little sister, especially after their mum died. We're all protective of her, she's a year younger than Jaz and I, when Nanna died we tried to get her to come to London and move in with us. But she refused point blank so dad cut a deal with her; he would be her legal guardian and she could stay as long as she visited us every other weekend and Anna, her nanny and maid combo, moved in to look after her. 

"I love Tammy you twit; I don't want to see everyone else." At that point I broke and everything came rushing back. I ran to my room and slammed the door shut turning on Paint's Happily Never After and shouting the lyrics through my door. Childish I know, but it made me feel a bit better.

"Luce, open the door."

"No, I'm gonna trash the house so no one will ever buy it."

"It's already sold; I sold it last week when you guys went to visit Tam." 

Damn it. "Fine, I'm gonna barricade myself in. You'll never make me go back there."

"You're going and that's final." Damn it.

I hear Dad storming down stairs and lighter footsteps making their way up. My door opens and Jaz walks in. I run into her arms and she hugs my close. "I don't want to go back, I don't want to see them again, I don't want to see him again." She doesn't say a word, she just hugs me close and strokes my hair as I cry into her arms.

Now 

I hate being here, Dad worked everything out so that I have no wiggle room to not move back. So here I am, on my way to Tammy's house, my home town. I'm at the back of the line so I can't take the movers the wrong way and my stuff is in the back of the mover's truck so I won't just leave it on the road if it falls out. He knows me way to well.

We get to the house that I grew up in and I look up at it. It's tall and imposing, white walls and huge glass windows, a modern mansion. I used to love it, I used to love the light, sliding on the wooden floor boards in my fluffy socks, the giant heated pool out back. Jaz and I lived with Nanna and Grandad until we were was 16. Dad slept around a lot when he was our age and one morning when he was 18 we were left on his doorstep with a note. Jaz and I have never met our mum but it doesn't bother me, Jaz wants to know who she is but I couldn't care less. I was always closer to Dad than her, she says it's because we are just as stubborn as each other. 

When we were dropped off Dad was forced to step up. Grandad was all for throwing him out and leaving him to fend for himself but Nanna wouldn't have that. She insisted that dad get an education and she looked after us when Dad was off at college and he lived at home when he went to university. We pretty effectively stopped his playboy ways but he claims that we were easily the best thing that ever happened to him. Grandad passed away a few days after Dad's graduation, he had a heart attack at it. Jaz and I were only 3 and Tammy 2, she never really got to meet her dad like we did our mum.