Flinch {A Mike Dirnt Fan Fic}

Flashbacks

It wasn't like they said it was gonna be.

What am I saying?

It wasn't a thing that is presented as something to be praised. It wasn't something to be sang about. It wasn't something everyone who haven't had it happen to them, be envied. It wasn't something you could ever come out regretting that you ever left.

You want to get out.

But even if you do get out, according to society, you're free. Forever. A safe haven awaits you. Life starts to finally click, and you find where you belong.

Again. Life's not that easy.

You're messed up, in easy terms. Nothing is easy to do, you have no ease in anything. Considering you've probably never experienced real life in a long time. You probably can't do everyday tasks that you've been taught when you were once a minor. You might not even be able to tie your shoes.

It's all been something you start to believe in. You think walking around and randomly getting hit, or raped on occasion is normal. Running into big men who you would supposed would knock you out, and have you woken up sore, is probably a Monday and Thursday thing.

Because your reality, is a lie. I've been lied to for almost all my lifetime. I don't even know when I can be hallucinating and when I'm just straight up dumb.

But some are lucky. They escape before brainwashing takes place, or before all the horrible images about the real world enter your head. People like that, I look up to. They've made a defense mechanism to where they actually got out. Actually got out. Actually out. Got out. Out...

But others, like myself, are so chained up in this fake reality, that escaping became way more hard then it used to be. People think of it as if you were to steal a cookie off the counter. You're so close, closer, closer, then you grasp it.

It's more like, you're close. Super close. Basically touching it. Then you look up to see that your mother caught you, and she had already stuck it back in its home in the jar.

Instead of the shaking of your mothers finger, as she scolds you with the constant saying of "no," you get ready for what's about to embrace you into a state of fear. You saw it coming. But you still tried, you idiot...

--

{Era: October 14, 1980}

I clenched my mothers hand hard, as we were in the bad parts of Palm Springs. It was raining. It wasn't downpour, but it was warming up to be more intense.

I loved the rain, but my mother, she would say different. She wiped it out of her face, trying her best not to mess up her makeup. She really was selfish about things like that.

The rain droplets dripped down my sleeves and hood, as my boots were soaked from all the splashing I've done. My mother was annoyed, but she kept it to herself.

Her red nails almost dug into my skin, as she walked a little faster. She was headed to a big white building. I couldn't read. Well, I could, but only one syllable words. I could really only make out: "Club." But the word after that, was so complex that I couldn't even think of it.

I eyed my mother. Her hair was slightly curled. She had a nice glow to her skin. Her makeup was flawless. She was extremely young for her age. So I've been told. Her heels clicked and clanked against the cobblestone ground.

The immediate smell of cigarettes and alcohol greeted my nose when you opened the doors. My mother runs through, as if to try and make sure I couldn't smell or see anyone. She failed miserably at that.