Broken Memory ✓

2. The Biker Gang Made up of A Girl and Her Father

How did y'all find this story so quickly? lmao? Anyway, enjoy. and my update schedule is in the air because of COVID-19 and being in quarantine, but I'm not planning on abandoning this story.

I start school tomorrow.

Time goes fast, eh? And I never even got a tour of the school.

Let me backtrack a little.

I did go with Mom to school. She made sure I was practically glued to her left side at all times, often holding my wrist or arm. I felt pathetic, like she didn't trust I'd stay next to her. Like I was a child. She turned in the papers, and she was doing great besides the suspicious stares at everyone, but the moment she handed in the papers she decided it'd be best if we didn't tour. Why? I don't know, I'm going to have to go to that school daily anyway. Did she feel unsafe there more than I did? I have all the materials I need for tomorrow - I had gotten a list of everything -, I just have no sense of navigation because of her randomly backing out. I have my schedule as well. At least the school is small.

I wish I could explore this town to the deepest depths of what makes it Bridgeport. But I can't even look inside of my own new school.

Enough of the pity party, though. I currently have a shot of getting out of the house without Mom. She's at the grocery store. Only Dad is home, and he might let me go out. Might. But that would mean going against Mom in his case. I'll try it anyway.

I move from my spot on the bed, standing up and putting my phone aside. If I do go out, I probably can't bring my phone with me. I leave my room, checking the bedroom for any signs of him. I hear footsteps in the kitchen and head down the stairs.

"Morning, Ash," he greets. 'Ash' is the nickname he gave me. Mom isn't the biggest fan of it, she likes 'Ashlyn' better, so he calls me 'Ash' when she's not around.

"Morning," I sit at the sad excuse of the kitchen table. It's one of those fold up card tables. Our last kitchen table was damaged when we moved, so we got rid of it, but never got a new one yet. Or I guess... A new actual kitchen table.

"How's it going?" he sits down next to me, taking a sip of the coffee he had been preparing.

"Well," I begin, "I was actually hoping we could - or I could - explore the town some."

He chuckles, "straight to the point, eh?"

"Yeah," I nervously laugh. "It's just... I know Mom would never let me go, but maybe you would?"

"Well, Kid," he sighs, "I don't know what to do with ya."

"Come on! I haven't left the house since Mom turned in those papers. We didn't even look inside the school. I want to be familiar with something in this town!"

"Alright, Ash, you win," he holds his hands up in the air, smiling. "Half an hour. Go get ready."

"You're the best!" I grin, giving him a quick hug, then dashing to my room.

"Don't bring your phone with! And if Mom finds out I'm going to be dead, so let's be careful!"

"Deal!" I exclaim, rushing to open the drawers of my dresser and find something to change into. Adrenaline rushes through me as well as a sense of rebellion. Rebellion against Mom and her wishes so I can live for a change. I get ready in three minutes, slipping on my flip flops and plopping a black hat on my head. I've always admired how I look in hats - my face just fits them.

I make sure my phone stays on the charger and race down to Dad. He waits at the front door, his shoes on, a grin on his face. Dad and I have always had a good relationship with each other, he's always been really laid back. He often tries to comfort me when Mom has one of her paranoia-induced fits. I'll never grow tough enough skin to withstand her yelling by myself.