Chapter four of 'Narelle'! Enjoy!
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This chapter is a backstory and insight on Chase's life. This will give you a better understanding of the story altogether.
My name is Chase. Chase Ferrara. I would say my middle name, as well, but I don't think we are that close yet. I was born in America, but my father's side of the family is Italian, hence the fancy last name, being fluent in Italian and having an accent. I was born into a rather rich family, with quite a few siblings- three brothers and two sisters, to be exact.
I was always the overlooked child in my family- as I was the middle kid, my parents were constantly trying to keep the youngest out of tantrums, and the eldest out of street gangs, wild parties, and so on. This meant I hardly received any attention; but I didn't mind. I learnt basic skills for myself, and stayed independent, never relying on anybody. Although sometimes I did feel lonely, with no one barely even interacting with me. Like every family, we had our ups and downs. We lived in the roughest part of town, with cop cars, ambulance sirens and fire alarms blaring every single day. There was no need for an alarm- the cop cars woke us up bright and early. Our house was extremely small, with only four rooms. We never had enough money for extravagant clothes, decent cuisine or even electronic devices- we all learnt to appreciate what we were given. The Ferrara family may have been mayhem: but we stuck together like glue.
But all glue unsticks. Whether that be roll-on glue from your local crafts store, or superglue, it always unsticks. Nothing lasts forever. My parents split, tearing my siblings apart from each other- and all my eldest siblings moved away to get on with their lives. This left me with my father and one sibling. After the brutal divorce, my father became an alcoholic- spending every minute at the pub, 'numbing his pain', or so he called it. He changed from a kindly father figure to a temperamental man who constantly yelled. Sometimes he would even smash his beer bottles. But he never laid a finger on me or my sister- I made sure of that. I looked after myself completely from that point forward- cooking for myself, washing, going to school, even getting a job to afford water, food and supplies. I took care of my sister too- she was the only family I had left. She was only nine- she had a whole life ahead of her, and so did I. Her life had been shattered to pieces, and I tried desperately to stick the pieces back together. We were like a little team- Lizzy and Chase, Chase and Lizzy. She brightened up my days, my nights, my world. Lizzy was the person who kept me from breaking down. I was only fifteen at this time- so emotions came much easier than they do now. Whenever Lizzy smiled with her adorable dimples, my face lit up like a lightbulb. When she laughed and her blue eyes sparkled like diamonds, I laughed with her, my eyes sparkling too. When she became sassy, with her dark brown hair flicking left and right, I smiled with pride- she was the female version of me. But when she cried, with tears rolling off her tanned face, looking sad and picturesque in a way, it took every bit of strength I had not to cry with her.
As Lizzy and I still lived in the rough side of town, I taught myself how to fight. I taught Lizzy too; so she can always stand up for herself. Although I doubt that would've been necessary as I would have knocked anyone who laid a finger on Lizzy unconscious. As I had a job, I rarely went to school. Which meant I wasn't very smart. I knew basic maths, colours and all of that amateur stuff, but things like physics, trigonometry, and all of the American presidents I had NO CLUE about. Even when I used to go to school regularly, every piece of information rolled off of me like water off a duck's back. But I had better things to do than get an education, anyway; I had two people to feed. Lizzy often tried to help as much as she could, bless her soul, by going out into the nicer side of town, prancing and performing outstanding acrobatic stunts. This always got us a few pennies from the locals- enough to buy a decent meal for the two of us. But as far as living in a house goes, I had rent to pay, and that required a job to afford. It was no use asking my father- he used his money at the pub, and I was afraid of his response if I dared to ask him for money. Back in those days, I grew to be afraid of everything- my father, paying for rent, bills, food, water, my sister getting hurt, my sister getting upset, getting kicked out of the house... but I never showed it. I never showed my emotions. I had to stay strong for Lizzy. She was the only person I cared about, the only person I strived to live and fight for- and still to this day, she's the only one I care about. It will always be her, and only her.
My life sounds miserable at this point, I know. But when you hit rock bottom, 'the only way to go is up.' That was my mother's quote, and she repeated it to our family each and every day. After about seven or eight months of living in literal hell, my father was arrested for drinking and driving. He was found to be four times over the limit- and although he didn't kill anyone, he was damn close. He was thrown in jail, and after some time, police tracked Lizzy and I down. After an interrogation by police, with endless gruelling questions, we told them what our lives had been like for seven or eight months: parentless, scared, me getting a job to pay rent, the whole lot. My father's sentence was extended by a large amount, and Lizzy and I were put into foster care, as I was only fifteen years old. I never heard from my mother, or any of my siblings, and I never visited my father in prison. I couldn't. Not even to get the answers I wanted- why he left Lizzy and I, knowing the consequences. I knew I'd fly off the handle as soon as I saw his face, or heard his voice.
After some time, we were taken in by a lovely, young couple; Samara and Dean Trenton. And they treated us properly. Their house was much bigger too, and Lizzy had no need to perform stunts on the street anymore. We had a family, but I always kept my guard- I couldn't get too close to anyone again. I tried to, but it felt like my heart had stopped trying. Like it had been surrounded in unbreakable stone. I wasn't afraid of everything anymore, because all my fears had been dealt with. I grew to be fearless, but constantly on guard. I quit my job, and moved to a new part of town- called Tuston Valley. I enrolled into their local high school, and before I knew it, I had my first day. It definitely was a mix of events. I met a girl called Narelle, who reminded me of a shadow. She kept to herself, remained in the background, never got too close to anyone, and when anyone tried, she tensed up and got all defensive. She reminded me of myself, but I wanted to know why. I have a terrible past- but surely she didn't? I hoped not. I didn't care about her at all, not one single bit- but no one deserves what I went through. Not even if I hated them with every bone in my body. So I intend to find out why she acts spookily like me. And what Chase Ferrara wants, Chase Ferrara gets.
End of Chapter Four
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YOU ARE READING
Narelle
Short StoryIt watches her every move, controls her every step, doubts her every thought and it doesn't seem to go away. A dark force so powerful, that it seems impossible to fight.