Ok, so just a side note, im totally new to this whole fanfiction thing. This thought has just been in my head ever sincr i started watcing the show so i decided to look up people who wrote stories about books movies and other stuff and this site csme up so I read some of the stories on here and thy are REALLY GOOD! So I decided to give it a shot. So tell me what you think, should I continue or not? ~~
The only thing Olivia knew at that moment was that she had to get out. Out of the city, out of the malignant mess her life had become, out of her own insanity that had become a mind walled prison. She needed to leave before she could cause any more pain; to herself, her mother, her friends. Greed and avarice longing to free her mother of her daily suffering could no longer keep her living at the hellhole she called home. Olivia was suffering a life of abuse and misery for nothing. And it was time to escape.
She was tired of fighting. Tired of trying to fiend her mother off of alcohol. Tired of pushing away the disgusting scum her mother would drag back home with her from time to time. And she was tired of criminalizing herself to fit her mothers victimization. Olivia had done nothing wrong, she was just tired of it all.
All these thoughts ran through her head on a day to day basis, why was today so different? Nothing special was happening. It wasn't Olivia's birthday, Olivia wasn't graduating- even though she was scheduled to graduate a year early that same year, like her mother knew that- that day. So what was so special about today? Nothing. Nothing is ever special, Serena always told Olivia. 'Thank god everyone starts dying at birth, life would be a living hell if I had to spend every single day with your Olivia.' Oh, the loving words of a mother.
Right then wasn't any different. Just a Friday night. Her mother was in her room, the door locked and another man in her bed. Olivia was in her room door open, but things were different with her that night. On most Friday nights Olivia would be studying, sneaking out to a friends house like Casey or Alex, if they weren't already in the same house, things like that. But that Friday night Olivia just sat on her raggedy bed, head in hands, her body quivering rapidly as tears ran down her cheeks and blood seeped into the surgical tape on Olivia's bare shin, the tightness of the tape making her whole leg throb. Her mother had thrown the end of a broken whiskey glass, of all things, at her and cut her.
Serena was many things, an alcoholic yes, a liar, sometimes, and yes she was an abusive mother. But she never cut Olivia, ever. It was like an unwritten rule between them, that Serena would never do anything that would potentially put Olivia in any serious danger. I mean sure, Olivia know that hitting and beating her was technically dangerous and harmful, but what Serena dished out was mostly a beating Olivia was strong enough to deal with. But just the thought of her mother cutting her was a stab in the heart, the fact that she did it was a wake up call for Olivia; that she didn't deserve this treatment, and she wanted out.
The sound of a man grunting and a woman moaning filled the hall as the repelling activities carried on in Serena's room. It was the last thing Olivia needed to hear at the moment, her mother giving away her love to another man in self pity. And it was then that she decided to act. Quickly wiping the tears away from her face and chin, she threw her weight off the bed and grabbed the spare backpack that she always kept under her bed. Another one of her mother's lovely words of wisdom, 'You better keep a bag under your bed, Benson because I swear to God one of these days I'm just gonna pack you a back and kick you the hell out.'
Olivia grabbed everything she could possibly fit that she knew she needed in the biggest opening of the old Jansport backpack, a spare pair of shoes for if the ones she were wearing at the moment became too broken down to wear, enough spare changes of shirts to last her probably two weeks, around the same amount of pants, and nine or ten sets of undergarments and socks and sorts. In the second opening she put two more extra sets of clothes in- thank god Casey had taught her how to fold up her clothes really small when they were in PE and she was running out of room in her locker- and some other things that she knew she didn't need to get around but would probably want or would come in handy; a blanket, her two favorite books The Outsiders and Number the Stars, a bottle of water, and one of her favorite pictures in the world, the picture of her and all of her friends gathered at Alex's house for 8th grade graduation.
Just for security, Olivia turned her head to make sure no one was watching her. She must have not been paying much attention to her surroundings because she could hear that the moaning had gotten a lot louder than before. Scoffing and shaking her head, Olivia picked up the backpack, not yet zipping the second pouch, and dashed out of her room.
Her next stop was a quick one to the kitchen.
It sounds weird for a teenage girl to say, but she hated going in the kitchen. It always stunk of liquor and everything was a mess. Her mothers dishes and glasses were rarely picked up after her drinking fiestas, the counters always had something on them, and most of the time there was some type of food rotting in sight. But now was a different time. Olivia just needed to get a couple more water bottles, maybe an apple or banana or something, and get out.
She opened he fridge and opened the top drawer, snatching three more bottles of water. She then opened the 'fruits and vegetables' drawer and hurriedly grabbed the whole bag of bananas. Honestly Olivia wasn't the biggest fan of bananas, but she guessed they'd just have to do.
Now zipping up the second opening to the backpack, she made her way out of the kitchen. There was only one more thing Olivia needed to do when she got out of the kitchen. Sneakily, she tiptoed to the front door, she knew that the floorboards near the front door could sometimes be a little creaky so she paid extra attention to walk slowly. She got to the front door, stopped, and looked at the key table. She opened the drawer to the table and opened the little little leather flap covering a divot full of Olivia's personal belongings. She pulled out all the money she had stashed for emergencies- around three hundred dollards- and her drivers licence.
And with no regrets, she opened the front door.