RED (BILLIE EILISH)

Two

I woke up with the biggest hangover of my life.

Moving hurt.

The light hurt.

The noise hurt.

The noise. Oh my god make it stop.

My body jolted as my door flew open and I felt my bed shift. The noise got louder as did the pounding in my head.

"Carter fucking Claire get up." My eyes rolled open to my mom leaning over me. "Now."

I huffed and swung my legs over the side of my bed as my sister handed me water and an aspirin.

"Where we you last night?" She crossed her arms as her dark eyes stared into my fucking soul.

"Out." I mumbled before throwing my head back and swallowing the small pill I held in my hand.

"I'm so tired of this. I mean seriously when will you learn?" She yelled before walking out of my room.

"I told you asshole." My sister spat as she slammed my door.

Funny, seeing how she dragged me into this in the first place. I used to hate parties. The people, the sweat, the grinding, and the drunk little boys never appealed to me. I'd rather stay home, in my cozy room, dimly lit with Christmas lights, and read or write or play my bass with no interruptions from the outside world. Luca, however, lived for the party. She spent every weekend out with her best friend Sam. They would come home at the butt crack of dawn and I spent most of my Junior High years lying and covering her ass until Sam moved away and I started High School. My older sister waisted no time introducing me to her pothead friends and forcing me to go out with her. She was sneaky and careful not to ruin her reputation with mom. I, on the other hand, gave no shits. My moms a bitch anyway.

My door swings open once again. Speak of the devil.

"Pack your bags." A hard shell suit case hit my chest.
My eyes fluttered up to my mom as tears streamed down her face. "I don't know what else to do CeCe." She spoke softly to me this time. She's called me that since I was a little girl. I grew up embarrassed every time the nickname left her mouth. But today it was different. Today she held the name in her mouth as if it needed to be cradled gently. Tears stung the back of my eyes as I stared at my mother in shock.

"Momma I-" I stopped myself. Not knowing what to do or say. Yeah my moms a bitch... but she's my momma. We've always had a hard relationship because we are so alike and butt heads constantly due to our stubborn and outspoken nature. My dad used to be our glue that held us together even when we wanted to be as far apart from each other as we could get. When he died we didn't bother trying. Small moments of peace occur once in a blue moon, but we mostly love each other from a distance. 

I watched as her eyes sunk and my heart along with it. She was tired. I had drained every last ounce of life out of her soft face. I got up slowly, hesitant to make any sudden movements. She stood silently with her arms crossed and one hand over her mouth as she watched me carefully place the folded clothes from my drawers into the suit case she had thrown at me minuets before. My fingers shook as the weight of the world nested itself on my shoulders.

Before now I didn't care about how my actions affected anyone else. Before now I hadn't seen the way it broke the woman that carried me in her womb. Before now I only cared about numbing the pain I felt from losing my father and best friend in one death. Today, my mom sat on the end of my bed in silence, watching as I packed myself into each of my bags. Now, I wish I could take it all back.

I hung my head as my aunts car pulled into the drive way. We put my bags into her trunk before I turned around to face my childhood home that I'd never spent more than a weak away from. My mom stood on the front porch, my sisters arms wrapped around her. A single tear slid down my cheek as I examined the way she held her. Like she was only hers.

I forced myself to open the car door and get inside. I shut the door afraid to look back at the disappointed look on my moms face as my sister who was just barely better than me clung to her side.

I closed my eyes as I felt the car moved forward. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion as I processed the fact that I had no idea when I'd see them again. All I could feel was hurt. Not hurt because I was leaving, but hurt because they were making me go.

When my dad died, I was 12. He was my best friend and the only person who really knew me. He knew all of the little things like my favorite color, my favorite food, and my favorite song. But he also knew  what kept me up at night. I didn't have to say  anything when I was upset or scared or feeling numb. He knew me. He was home to me and when he died, so did every feeling of safety I had ever known. The day he died was the day I lost my home.

A/N

Hi so this is kind of a short chapter just to give you some background information on Carter and get things moving in the right direction! I promise you'll want to stick around, the next chapter is gonna be fun!!!