Johnny Depp Imagines

Willy Wonka #1

***Thank you BayBay08 for this request.***

Uggghh, I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't take any more of my dad's violent and aggressive behaviour. He was an alcoholic. And in case you wondering, I'm twenty-two and I work at a hairdressing salon (it's sooo boring), but if it puts food on the table, then I'll gladly do it. I live with my drunk dad, he's downstairs still drinking. My mum left when she caught my dad having an affair with her best friend.

Ouch. Nasty stuff.

I sat at the white dressing table in my bedroom, aiding my slightly hurt and cut face and arms with antiseptic.
I hissed in pain as I dabbed the antiseptic onto the wounds. They still bled a little, blood still oozing a tiny bit.
After I had cleaned up the last of the blood, I pressed some clean soft plasters over my injuries.

All better.

I pulled my soft grey hoodie from around my waist and pulled it over the top of my head and grabbed my black rucksack.

Yes. I'm running away. I can't cope with being assaulted and living with a drunk dad anymore.

I grabbed several pairs of clean clothes from my wardrobe, my hairbrush, toothpaste, toothbrush, my phone, charger, earphones, favourite book, deodorant and a pot of lip balm that smelt of vanilla and honey.

Mmmm...

Slowly closing my door, I crept down the stairs and peered around the living room door. There was my dad slumped in his armchair, a large Heineken beer bottle in his hand, completely wasted and passed out. His glasses were perched on the tip of his nose, so I put them on his lap.

The TV blared, so I turned it off and quietly shut the door behind me.
I made my way to the kitchen and opened the cupboards and fridge. I took a packet of ready salted crisps, a co-op ham and cheese sandwich, a half-eaten mars bar and an orange juice (I hated apple juice).

When I had enough food, I stuffed it all in my rather over a stuffed backpack. It was much heavier than I thought it would be, so I had to double over and carry it like that. I placed it at the foot of the stairs and sat down. I pulled on my black boots and double knotted the rather scuffed up laces.
I then pulled on my black coat and slung my rucksack over my shoulder. I opened the door and slipped out.

Damn!

It was snowing and I didn't have a key, so I couldn't go back and wait out the snow.
Wait, why would I want to go back? It's the place I'm running away from, not the place I'm going back to.

Ok, ok, ok.

Well, I guess I'd have to keep on walking, so I walked away from my house and down the street. Soon, I'd walked so far in the dark charcoal black night that I didn't know where I was. Uggghh....my legs were so sore, I needed a sit-down.
'No, just a few more blocks, then you can rest.' I told myself firmly.

So foolishly, I walked an extra three and a half blocks. To make it worse, there was now a strong wind, which blew my H/C into my E/C.
I was still walking 20 minutes later, by then I was shivering and had almost walked those three and a half blocks. The snow was coming down faster and heavier; the snow was going through my coat and jumper, piercing my skin.

I couldn't walk anymore, so I leaned against some big iron gates and sat down in the cold wet damp white snow. I took off my rucksack and opened it slowly. I know now wasn't the time, but my lips were getting chapped, so I slathered on a thick amount of lip balm over them. Then I pierced my orange juice with the straw and drank it slowly, finishing up the mars bar straight after.