Glowing x - A The Script Fan Fiction

Glowing x - Chapter 1 - Introducing Rori

Rori’s PoV

Tonight’s the night it all gets better, this is the point I have slaved my sorry little arse off for years to reach. Like I’ve been climbing up an imaginary mountain just for this one night of satisfaction. After that who knows what will happen? Maybe it’ll get better and I can live my life in peace or (more probably) it’ll go back to the same hell I’ve been living.

I laugh to myself quietly, like it will get better. I don’t deserve better. I deserve everything I get. Every kick, every punch...

No Rori! Shut up! Don’t do this to yourself tonight, tonight your gonna be happy. Your gonna be grown up and positive like your mother would want you to be. She’d be proud of you, we know that.

Great! Now I’ve started having two sided conversations with myself. I’m not mad. I chuckle to myself which gets me a strange look from the little old lady in front of me. She’s a tiny little thing covered in wrinkles, she must be at least eighty or so. She gives me an odd look, like she’s trying to figure me out. I return this with a quick flash of my middle finger. She tuts to herself and turns around to face the front of the bus in disdain. Ha silly old cow.

Well I say bus but that word is a bit of an overstatement for this rusty old tin can. It creaks and groans like a, a I don’t know. Something that creaks and groans. And it smells like feral cat urine, and trust me, I know what I’m talking about! There’s only me, the grumpy old lady and a few over people. School kids and commuters mainly as it’s that time of the day.

My iPod suddenly blurts out ‘This=Love’ by the Script. I smile and hum along to the sweet sweet melody. Danny O’Donoghue’s soft, Irish accent fills my body and makes me feel like there’s a reason to life. Tonight’s the night that I see that beautiful man and his wonderful band perform live for the first time. I’m sooo excited! Nothing can bring me out of my high. Not tonight. Not ever again...or so I hope...

Oh Rori don’t be such a pessimist! I scold myself. I try to be optimist I really do but sometimes it’s not easy. I used to such a happy-go-lucky little girl that had everything. But then mum left and my short life ended...

*5 years earlier*

I’m lying in bed trying to sleep but as usual I can’t. Mummy and daddy are shouting again but much, much louder than usual. I think mummies crying. Why is she crying?

I listen more closely to their yelling match trying to understand it. I hear them mention my name, is this my fault? Please don’t let it be my fault. Please God don’t let it be my fault. I slide off the bed and kneel beside it clasping my hands together and start to pray.

“Dear God, I know you’re out there somewhere watching me. I need you God; I need you to help me. Please can you stop mummy and daddy fighting? Please God, I’ll do anything! I promise to brush my teeth every day for the next forever. And, and I promise to come to church. Please God please...”

I’m sobbing and collapse into a tiny ball and wail and wail. I don’t know how long I cried for but I cried so much I was sick. I felt so bad and tried to tidy up, I didn’t want to make daddy mad again. I don’t like it when he hits me.

I hear a loud bang from down stairs followed by an ear piercing scream. Mummy! I leave the small pile of sick and run down the stairs as fast as my little tired legs can carry me. The scene before my eyes is one I will never ever forget.

Lying on the floor, not moving, was my dad covered in blood thick red blood. It was seeping into the carpet and slowly moving its way across the room. I wanted to be sick again. I looked around me for mum. And there she was in the corner shaking, a knife still in her hand covered in the same thick red blood that was seeping into our soft cream carpet...