El Mañana (Murdoc x Reader x 2D)

Zombody Once Told Me

"Stuart. Stu-art. Stu. Stu Pickles." I bothered my babysitter as I poked him repeatedly in the arm as he held his head in his hands. He had one of his orange bottles, the one with the white lid and the small writing which I couldn't read. He had taken a lot, comping of a headache before, and was just sitting there now, a dazed over look in his eyes. They were to help stop his head from hurting.

"Go away....." He moaned as he slammed his head down on the dining room table, which my dad had said was oak. He put a hand on top of my head, and ruffled my hair up, slowly pushing me backwards. I smiled as I looked back at him, and took a few steps backward, my hands behind my back. He looked back at me, and I looked into his eyes as he looked into mine. I've always liked his eyes. They were like crystals, blue and pretty.

"Can we put on a movie?" I questioned quietly, looking back at him, my eyebrows furrowed as I asked him. Maybe that would make him stop being so weird. He wasn't like this, usually he would help me play with LEGO's, and braid the hair on my dolls. Sometimes he would even paint my nails without Mommy knowing. Mommy didn't like it when Stuart made me look pretty, when he brought over his own mother's makeup.

"What about Dawn of the Dead this time?" Stuart asked, lazily standing up before stumbling against a wall, and straightening his shirt, stretching his face with his hands. I shook my head, and held the edge of the shirt into my hands, crumpling it up. I didn't like that movie. It was scary, and I don't like it. We did watch other movies, like Poltergeist.

"No, never mind. We should go to the park! Or how about make some lunch? Or computer games of Mom's computer. Maybe we can do the band thing? Go out clubbing?" I asked him as I bounced up and down, my hands in the air, and a large smile on my face. He picked me up, and smiled back at me, walking into the living room. He swayed a bit, his pupils dilated, but seemed okay.

"Who taught you what clubbing meant, monkey?" He asked me, and placed me on the couch, and got down on his knees as he looked over at some of the movies we had. Mommy usually told him to get out Veggie Tales, but we never did. Sometimes he would take the disc back to his own house, and watch it.

"You did. You were talking to your girlfriend on the phone, and you asked if she wanted to go clubbing. She said no, I think." I retorted in the most innocent way possible. He had brought his girlfriend over sometimes, but she wasn't that nice. She would be mean, and yell at him, and then kiss him a lot, and then they would put me in my bedroom, even if it was dinner time. That wasn't that often, though. She always smelled sour, and bad, too. Like Mom's apple juice.

"Well, I did bring my keyboard," He tried to switch the topic, placing his hands in his back pockets. "We can have a quick jam session, if you want? You can play the guitar. Doesn't your Mom have a guitar around here?" He asked as he smiled down at me, and sighed, turning around.

Then, he got called into work. Didn't come back, either. Was gone for a while. I missed him, and was sad. Depressed even. Mom had just gotten even more cruel, school was a pain, and it was becoming more difficult to make friends. Homework was a bore, and difficult. It was bittersweet thinking about how good I used to have it.

And now, here I am, out of a job, and on the streets. My mother had kicked me out, giving me my father's guitar, which I had learned wasn't actually hers. Apparently, my dad used to play it, and I reminded her so much of him that I should just have it. She would've sold it if I didn't take, so I took it anyways. I learned how to play, by myself, and that was my only talent.

I was old enough to handle myself. Practically an adult. I could do what I want. I didn't have to go to school, I had all my music. I also had some money left over. Yeah, I didn't need her. I had myself. She was an absolute bitch, someone I wouldn't want to ever hang out with. I didn't need her, I could do what I want. She couldn't tell me what to do anymore.

I plugged my earbuds in, and held my head down as I began to walk forward, backpack on back, and guitar case in my hand. I had a long-sleeved flannel shirt, which was rolled up to my elbows, a graphic Night of the Living Dead t-shirt on, and skinny jeans with converse, my hair down, touching my shoulders. Of course, Whenever, Wherever by Shakira began to play.

Lucky you were born far away so we could both make fun of distance.

I began to him along as I walked forwards, avoiding the glances of the people who were walking past, talking on their phones. Do whatever business they had. I left everything at home, I walked this much to start a new life. One that wasn't filled with memories of the past. One that was great, where I could control.

One where I didn't think about my missing babysitter almost 24/7.