Hello my name is: a PruCan fanfic

Chapter 1

Slowly and groggily I blinked my eyes open, every inch of my body protesting as I quickly turned the alarm off not wanting to disturb my father. He was never happy to get awoken by anything to do with me. In fact, he was never really happy with me.

Putting on my glasses I glance at the clock and hold in a groan. Then I swing my feet over the edge the bed. The cold air hits me as I'm released from the warm body heat bubble I was previously in under my comforter. Quietly I walk to my dresser to set clothes out for after I shower, and then make my way to the bathroom.

Undressing I stare at my reflection in the mirror. It was the only mirror in our house that wasn't broken. Seeing blue violet eyes staring back at me, and messy blond hair sticking up in all directions I slip behind the curtain and start the water. Hiding in the corner to escape the ice cold temperature that were guaranteed to spill out of the nozzle, I feel the cold wall impatiently. Sticking my hand in the water to see if it had warmed up, I quickly slip in feeling the droplets hit me roughly and roll down my spine. Finally, some warmth.

My bruises ache, their pain a silent song to me. Every time I move, they sing out. Sing out the shame I feel for allowing myself to be abused. The shame for living in poverty. The shame for how my life turned out. Holding my breath, I push my face under the scorching water. This will help me forget.

After I get done showering and brushing my teeth I slip back into my room to change. I do this quickly and brush my hair, knowing it will just dry into it's wave-like pattern anyways. Glancing at the clock I sigh and slip downstairs throwing my thankfully finished homework into my backpack.

Putting on my shoes, I feed my dog named Kumajiro, a white husky. I usually forget his name and he usually just begs for food, and barks something that sounds oddly like 'who?' so I assume he has no clue what my name is either. It's a bittersweet relationship for the most part, but I don't mind. A dog who doesn't know my name is the best relationship I'll get most days. Glancing at a clock, I frown and  quickly grab my backpack. Rushing out the door I make my way to the bus station to wait.

Most kid's my age drive to school, but I was damned to ride the bus everyday of my life until I graduate, and then everyday after. That was just a different bus. My Father has no money to get a car, he barely makes enough money the pay for our small house, or for any bills that come with it. I listen as the metal rectangle on wheels pulls up. I could practically hear the young kids spewing profanities to impress each other and the "big" kids from where I stood. With a 'tssshhh' sound the thing came to a complete stop and the door creaked open, getting pushed to one side as the driver nudges the bar over to let me in. I greet, and he nods before I rush to the back, and put headphones in ignoring the strong scent of Axe body spray emitting from the person in front of me. Not to mention the stale smell of dirty socks and body oder that appeared to be permanently engraved into the bus itself. 

The person in front of me turns around to reveal a face that looks similar to mine, with the exception of blue eyes, and shorter less golden blond hair. A big smile spread across their face.

"S'up bro! How's it going!" The person says cheerfully, forcing me to take out my ear buds, and give a small tired smile.

"I'm good Alfred, how's mom?" I ask softly, watching as the giant smile never left his face.

As you may have guessed, Alfred is my twin brother. He lives with my mom, and I live with my dad. During the divorce she choose Alfred, and my dad was stuck with me. It wasn't that she didn't love me, she just couldn't find enough money to support us both. At least that's what I've been telling myself after the little contact I've received since she left.

Also if you haven't guessed my father is an abusive man. He has redeeming qualities, but I couldn't be bothered to list those quite yet. The bruises hurt too much for that.

Alfred laughed watching my facial expressions and reactions carefully. He wasn't sizing me up, he was just trying to find out how it was going for me. It's easier to communicate that way. If he can understand from my facial expressions what I'm feeling it really saves me the stress of actually talking. 

"She's the same as she was yesterday! Still hasn't gotten me a car though...." A small pout came onto his face as he stated the last sentence. Searching me for anything to continue the conversation, again he smiled, nodded, and turned around after inconclusive results.

It was awkward to talk to each other after being separated for so long, but we still seemed to understand one another. He was a very verbal person, and I usually let my emotions show through my face. Figuring this out, our conversations were usually him talking a majority of it with only small simple words escaping from between my lips.

Getting to school I stepped off the bus onto the grounds. Most students were inside, or chatting beside open doors as the school welcomed, and urged children to come into it. As I entered people brushed past me and seemed to not be aware of my presence. I wind my way through the field of kids to my locker, still getting ignored. How I preferred it.

Grabbing my books I head to my first class. I'm more of a book nerd, than a social superstar. Not to put cheesy labels to my character, or the character of others. People usually forget me, and when they do talk to me they get bored quickly. I'm really nothing interesting, and a person who doesn't really talk to people. I like to keep to myself, keep people out of my personal life. I'll smile and nod, occasionally comment, but when they realize I'm not going to, and have no interest on moving the conversation onto my shoulders, they leave.

The school day drones by, as I go through my classes, sit alone at lunch, and ride the bus home.

Peering into my house I find it quiet. He hasn't laid a hand on me for a month, so I've been tense. Any moment he could snap. His fuse can only last so long, and when he explodes it's large, harsh, and completely unpredictable. Sighing as I figured he was at work I go to the kitchen to grab a banana. I eat the snack before quickly grabbing a TV dinner and setting it in my mini fridge located in my room. Dropping off my backpack, changing into work clothes, and rushing off to a shabby old gas station on the corner called "Bennie's" I begin to work my shift.

The work day drags on as I clean, and cook. I don't work the cash register because my social skills are poor. Occasionally someone will say "Hi!" or give a small nod, to which I'll do the same. I'll work until it's time to close and then close up. Walking home I peer in again before rushing upstairs. My father was sleeping on the couch.

I have a microwave in my room, so I could basically live in it. Everything in my room luckily stays undamaged, because my father never beats me in my room. It was almost an unspoken rule between us for some reason. He can beat me, but my room is where I am safe. I grab the TV dinner and throw it in before changing, and taking my homework out to start it. Hearing the quiet beep, I rush over and take it out. When I first got this microwave I asked Alfred to take it apart so it didn't make noise when the food was done. The best he could do was make it soft, which in the end worked all the same.

Eating I do my homework then set my alarm, before wandering off to brush my teeth. Returning I crawl under the covers and close my eyes retiring for the day.

That was always my schedule. That was usually how my days turnt out except for a few slight variations, but I always knew what would happen. Everything was on a schedule, neat and ready for me to live it out. At least until I met him.