Summary: Bianca wasn't always so bad.
Disclaimer: Don't own Degrassi. 'Nuff said.
Author's Note: Bianca-centric fic.
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Bumblebee
By: Lady Azura
X
Bumblebee.
That's what your father used to call you, when he was still around.
His little Bumblebee.
You were such a daddy's girl then. There was no one else in the world that you loved more than him. He was your everything.
Your earliest memory is of him teaching you how to dance. You remember standing on his feet, holding his hands as he turned in circles, grinning down at you.
Those were the happiest days of your life. Being so little, you never imagined that they would ever — could ever — end.
Then they did.
One night, after a fight with your mom, your father walked out the door and never looked back — but not before hugging you one last time, and promising to return for you.
"I promise, Bumblebee."
So every day, you'd sit by the window and wait for him.
Days turned into weeks… then months… and finally, years…
But you never saw him again.
.
.
.
You're eight when you're forced to move in with your aunt, 'cause mom can't afford to keep the house anymore. Your new "home" is small and cramped with more cousins than you can keep track of. It's suffocating and you hate it. You want to go back to your home, because you're still holding on to that sliver of hope that Daddy will come back and if you're not there, how can he save you from this Hell?
From the aunt who favors her own children, and isn't above telling you that you're selfish and worthless, just like her sister?
From the cousins who alienate you because they think you're too haughty?
From the mother who wastes her life away drinking; who didn't want a child to begin with?
Who doesn't love you?
.
.
.
Years pass, and all you can do is wonder…
What did you do wrong?
Weren't you good enough?
Why didn't he keep his promise?
After another long, agonizing year drags by… you shut yourself off from the world.
You stop waiting.
.
.
.
You're the first one in your grade to hit puberty.
The first to get her period — in the middle of the night, after painful cramps jolt you out of your slumber and you lift your blanket to find blood everywhere - on your thighs, on your clothes, on the sheets… everywhere. And no one in the house had the decency to tell you that this was normal, and so you spend the rest of the night curled up in a ball, thinking you're going to die. It isn't until morning arrives, when your older cousin sneaks back into the room after a night out with her boyfriend and finds you, that you're finally told what's going on.
The first to develop curves — and it's not only the boys who notice, but the high school guys, your cousin's age, who sometimes hang out at the house when your mom and aunt aren't around… they notice too.
You're torn between feeling disgusted and uncomfortable, and flattered.
The older you get, the more flattered you become.
Kind of.
(And the first to lose her virginity.)
.
.
.
… but you didn't want to.
Or maybe you did?
You don't know.
But your mind is fogged and jumbled when you come home that night, just after your thirteenth birthday, in a daze…
You don't remember much.
You don't even know who took it.
Was it Ron-Ron or one of the other guys at the Ravine?
Why can't you remember?
.
.
.
Fuck it, you decide.
You don't care anymore.
And for the next couple of years, you spend your days drinking, partying, and getting high.
If your dad isn't gonna save you, you might as well make your own escape.
.
.
.
Blue eyes.
Big, blue eyes that are so genuine and pure — that feel as though they're looking through right to your soul, and as unnerving as it is, they're the first real thing that's been real to you in a long time.
They're the most intense eyes you've ever seen, and you can't even meet them.
You've had eyes on you — lecherous and clouded with lust — before but it's never made you feel this way. Maybe because they're not like the other eyes?
"I think I could be your type."
.
.
.
… then it all goes downhill from there.
But as confused and angry as you are, you just can't seem to get him — her? It? — out of your damn head.
Those eyes haunt you.
But once you get over yourself, you know there's no way in hell he's gonna look at you that way again, not after what you did.
So you find a substitute.
It has nothing to do with Bhandari. Really. You don't care for her, but you've got nothing against her either. (At least not until she sends your private pics to every goddamn person in the school, the little bitch.) It wasn't hard to lure your "conquest" away — he's just like every other guy (well, almost every other guy) you've met. Fidelity isn't his first priority; he just likes to have a girl on his arm, or on her knees, sucking him off. Either way, it was a piece of cake. It's nothing personal against Bhandari. In fact, you probably did her a favor, you muse. But again, it has nothing to do with her, or with Drew Torres.
But it had everything to do with him.
Has everything to do with him.
.
.
.
… maybe it's time for a change.
… maybe it's time to let people in again.
Or, at the very least, let him in.
… maybe.
One day.
You hope.
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FIN
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What even.
Sigh. I don't think it had the same effect as "Playing With Fire" — the two aren't related, by the way, but they're written in a similar format.
Too much stuff was going on, and my thoughts were all jumbled which is why… this monstrosity is all jumbled and incoherent.
But at the same time, it's Bianca, so… I don't know.
Le sigh.
Still not quite on board with the whole Drew/Bianca pair… although, that could be because I kind of still ship her with Adam. If you couldn't already tell, cough.
Enough of my rambling.
Please REVIEW and tell me what you think!