This Song Saved My Life (All Time Low Fanfiction)

I'm Not The Same Kid You Knew Back Then

"Hi mom," I grumbled with a sigh. The woman in front of us put on a wide smile, and I cringed slightly.

"Hello again, Ransom. Are you all ready to go?" She asked. Her voice had a cold tone, but I could tell that she was trying to be friendly. For Connor. I got up, Connor putting a hand on my back as we walked out of the airport with all of our luggage. I climbed in the back seat, as my little brother Robin was sitting in the front.

I hated Robin. He was a direct representation of how terrible my mother was. He was a brat. He was the spitting image of my dad, who left right after John died. They had the same blond hair, and pale skin. They were exactly alike. He wasn't abused like I was. He wasn't forced to go to a school for juvenile delinquents. He wasn't scared of his own mother.

"If it isn't little miss Depression Queen," he said smugly. I was about to cuss him out, but Connor put a hand over my mouth.

"Let it go," He said quietly. I sighed, feeling my face go red, and resorted to staring out the window while listening to the collection of All Time Low music that Alex had given me. He had even given me a copy of their old EP and first album, which only he owned. I was currently listening to a song called Remembering Sunday. They were really good, and Alex's voice was amazing. They had some pretty good lyrics, and their sound was like a mix of blink-182 and Simple Plan. My favorite album so far was the Party Scene, but I liked all of them that I had listened to.

We finally arrived back at the house, and were greeted by a man and a boy with blond hair on the porch. I bet fifty bucks that it was my step-dad and step-brother. The kid didn't look too bad. He was about sixteen and was wearing baggy jeans and a Misfits t-shirt under a plaid button-up shirt. His blond hair covered his face, but I could clearly see that he had hazel eyes. The man however didn't look nice. He was also wearing jeans but he had an Iron Maiden shirt on, which was okay. I loved Iron Maiden. But his face had a look of disgust as we pulled into the driveway and I got out of the car, staring up at the house as if I had never seen it before.

"Come on, we haven't got all day. Stop staring a the damn house, won't you?" Robin said. I gritted my teeth and tried not to punch his face as I pulled my guitar case out of the trunk.

"Ransom, stop it," Connor said. "He's just trying to make you mad. That's exactly what my brother does."

"Well it's working," I replied through gritted teeth. "He's just asking to get punched in the face."

We moved all of our suitcases into my room without a word, except for Connor gasping at all of the posters and magazine cut-outs of all of my favorite bands. It felt good to be in my own room again, but it also felt weird. I hadn't been in the room since I had been enrolled in the Memphis School for Juvenile Delinquents, and hadn't planned on ever being in it again.

"When you're done un-packing come back downstairs. We're going out to get to know each other a little better," Mom said through the closed door. I sighed, sitting on my bed. Connor sat down next to me.

"Oh, stop moping. It'll be fine. She's not gong to murder you while you're in the car or anything," He said. I laughed at his attempt to cheer me up.

"Um, no. You don't know what happened the last time we were in the car together," I replied. He looked confused. "Let's just say the car ended up at the bottom of a hill in a tree."

"Okey-dokey then." I pulled his hoodie out of the messenger bag and threw it on over my top before walking back downstairs with Connor.

I hated my house. I hated everything about it. There were just too many memories, good and bad, wrapped up inside of it. Like as we were walking down the stairs, I saw the dent in the floor and a chip in the paint from when my Mom pushed me down the stairs and screamed at me to die. I had barely survived that episode, and did not want to relive it in any way. But Connor must have sensed something. "Was that when she pushed you down the stairs?" He asked as I passed the dent carefully. I nodded and stepped down on the last step, the floor creaking as usual.