You trusted them. Each classmate, neighbor, teacher, and even the younger children of the neighborhood. None of them were able to understand you, yet their sympathy was plentiful.
Your parents were kind, young and wealthy. The perfect couple, but you now believe no good thing lasts.
When you were thirteen, you received a phone call around 3 in the morning. Your parents were hit by the get away car during a robbery of a nearby jewelry store. You were heart broken, you couldn't believe it was true. You didn't want to! For weeks you lived in your home with an officer as your caretaker. You were an only child and now an orphan.
Officer Walsh, a tall blonde young policeman, watched over how you acted through all of the case. He told you everything he could about it to try to comfort you. Apparently there were three men and one woman in the car, their moving truck was found burning in a ditch minutes after the crime. The police found the truck before the found the bodies of your parents. Walsh wasn't allowed to share the murder files, but late one night you found him asleep at the dining table. You were too small to carry him to the couch and knew he hadn't been sleeping well. So you simply covered him with a blanket.
His papers were thrown all over the floor, you picked up a manila envelope and put the scattered files inside. You saw something that night that made you shake. A photograph. You couldn't rip you eyes away from it. It was so horrible yet beautiful. You hid the photo in your journal. Walsh respected your space, so you believed he'd never find it.
Under three weeks, two of the four responsible for your parents deaths were captured, and one had commit suicide to avoid the cops. Leaving only one to roam the area. Officer Walsh decided it was time for you to move in with any of your nearby relatives. The grandparents on your mother's side had both passed away, and the grandparents on your father's side lived with your uncle in Florida. There were other aunts and uncles all over, but each had kids of their own and no room to take care of a teen. So Walsh set up plans to send you to Florida. Before you stepped on the plane, Walsh gave you his number in case things don't work out. You thanked him, then took the first step into a empty world.
(Your POV)
Your walk home from work was peaceful, the breeze was cooler than usual and the smell of the salty ocean could be smelt from anywhere. It was just after you had just graduated high school, 'Nama demanded you have a job, in her words she's only required to provide you with food, shelter, and clothes. If you wanted anything else you had to work for it. The only thing you ever got from your grandparents was on your sixteenth birthday. And it was an outdated Apple laptop with a charger that only worked when it wanted to and half the keys were either faded or missing. Lucky for you the neighbors are always hosting yard sales; otherwise, you wouldn't have ever bought that flexible pink silicone keyboard with a late reaction time. It was only two bucks. Was it even worth it?
Your walk was quiet, but when you stepped in the back door of the house it was a different story.
"[Name]! Did you get the groceries?" 'Nama's voice cracked when she said your name.
"No 'Nama. I bought them yesterday!" you shout back as you walked towards your room. You heard her footsteps stomping across the old linoleum floor, then the click of her tongue.
"LIAR! [Name] there ain't milk in here!" she slammed the fridge door. With your hand on the handle of garage door, you yell without thinking.
"Check if uncle Shawn took it downstairs, I know I bought two half-gallons." you reach into the garage and pulled out a small window mop. 'Nama's howl was a glass-shattering cry.
"SHAWN! Bring up the damn milk!" you could vaguely hear Shawn's reply.
You hooked the window mop into the handle on ceiling. And with it, you pulled down the attic's door. A ladder sat folded on top the trap door. You pulled on the string attached to the lowest rung. The ladder clattered on the wood floor and you climbed up. Leaving the window mop between the rungs.
The attic was your bedroom it was unfinished, but the gaps between each column were covered with movie and gaming posters.
Once you were off the ladder, you turned on the light and pulled up on the rope so the trap door closed. The room was scalding hot, you dragged your feet over to an extension cord in the corner and turned on both of your fans.
You threw yourself onto your mattress, and sank straight into the pit your body had made over the years. The old thing was just as cheap as the rest of the house, just a pile of ten dollar foam mats. At least the blankets and sheets resembled your personality. Star Wars themed bed covers, Shawn's hand-me-downs. You sighed and stared at the ceiling. A poster of Chris Pike as Captain Kirk hung above your bed.
'I can't wait 'till that masking tape gives out.' You thought, reaching your arms out to him. "Come to me Pike-sama." You whispered before flopping your arms down on the bed. I distant beep reached your ears from across the room. Your laptop was calling your name.
The old thing was your baby, it had all the files, links, and pictures for everything you needed. It was your only kind of privacy, it was like a small portal to a different dimension. A place where you could be yourself, watch what you wanted, or play whatever you wanted; and nobody would much care. You certainly weren't getting yelled at through the screen at least.
In the short time over one year, you've never 'surfed the web' but you had been shown websites by your co-workers. YouTube became the most used link on your hot bar. You had accounts on Tumblr, Facebook, Devianart, Quotev / , and even a MySpace. But out of them all, YouTube was your get away train from 'Nama's nagging and Shawn's alcohol breath. How many hours had you spent watching gaming walkthroughs or creepypastas? Or how many illegal recordings of classic movies had you watched? Ahh the many fanfictions read on that screen.
Noises came from downstairs, a series of bangs and shattered glass. Shawn's drunk slur was a deep and inaudible.
"Shawn, I can't understand a damn thing your sayin'!" 'Nama shouted at him before more shattered glass could be heard while Shawn babbled through tears.
"Quit your cryin'! And leave my dishes outta your tantrum, ya big baby!"
More shattered glass could be heard. Then the bang of a pot or pan. The cabinet could have broken leaving the pans to fall, but it seemed more likely 'Nama hit Shawn with the wok.
You sighed, cupping your cheek in your hand. Quietly typing away comments on YouTube videos. Click, click, click.
'Ive been on for hours. And I've ended up on THAT side of YouTube again.' You think about how silent the house seemed. Around this time Shawn and 'Nama would be arguing, again. But they weren't, why? Curiosity set itself in your mind, and you went downstairs to take a look.
You pushed down the trap door listening to the ladder clatter in the floor. 'I'll leave it open. I expect to go back up right after.' you inspected your surroundings, eyes scanning each surface until the came a cross the shattered glass on the kitchen floor. It was in a single heap, 'Nama must have kicked it into a pile then left. You grabbed the broom and dustpan, then begun to sweep up the mess.
'Might as well, so 'Nama doesn't forget it's there in the middle of the night when she goes to get a drink. That would get real ugly real fast.' As you swept, you could hear footsteps coming up from downstairs. You turn to see 'Nama with her hair hanging loosely from her bun, and her eyeshadow forming chunks in the creases of her brow. She saw you with the broom in hand and scowled.
"Your good-for-nothin' uncle should be the one to clean that you know." Her face was contorted, 'they really must have been arguing again. Execpt in the basement, thats why I couldn't hear them.' 'Nama usually didn't use the stairs for attic or basement so this time it must have got really bad. Because the house had three floors and three people. The basement was Shawn's domain, the attic mine, and even though she owned the whole house 'Nama lived on the ground floor.
"I don't mind 'Nama. You look tired; take a rest and I'll finish this." You smiled at her but her eyes flamed up again.
"I will not rest 'til that wasted slob cleans his mess!" She pointed her finger at the pile before you, and stomped one foot on the floor. "You let him take advantage of you [Name], one of these days his gunna do somethin' that you can't undo." Her stare intensified. She was still fuming from her earlier argument. 'She's not going to like it if I keep going but I doubt I can get Shawn to clean it.' You carefully tried to figure out what to do while you fiddled with the broom in your hands.
"Don't gossip about me behind my back, woman." Shawn groggily shuffled his feet up the stairs, his voice could be heard echoing off the stairwell walls as he sassed back to 'Nama.
"What are you gonna do about it, pig?" She glared at him. His head poked upstairs behind the railing. Shawn was red-faced and his hair was matted to his forehead. With shallow breathes he managed to continue their earlier argument.
"You don't know what I'm going through, Ma! Its so hard to keep up now."
"What? You mean I don't know what its like to love with a skank who'd do anything for a little cash? That cause I wasn't an ugly lil' ground-mole!"
"NO! You don't know the stress I go through with having this job! And shut-up, Tiana is not a cheap whore! " He slammed his fist down on the table. 'He's acting like a deprived teenager! He's only had a job for three months of his life, the past three. Thats not hard enough to drink yourself sick.' You could tell from her unmoving gaze that 'Nama knew what he was talking about the whole time. And that she hated Tiana…
"I turned to drinking because I don't know what else to do. YOU forced me into that job! Because you ran out of money and don't wanna take a job yourself!" Shawn was stepping into a sensitive topic.
'Don't say it Shawn! Or all hell's going to break loose! And I'm going to get stuck in the middle of it.' You couldn't help but think of how bad this was going to end but couldn't do anything but just watch.
"I'll have you know, son, I have been looking for waitressing jobs! You're not the only one getting work to the bone." 'Nama was looking more and more annoyed. Like she was starring at a bug on the wall instead of her son.
"B.S! You made that up on the spot. You just needed someone else to bring home the goods so you can sit on you pretty chair and watch soap operas all day. Kinda hard now, huh? Now that Pop's out of the picture-" Shawn was cut off, and you gasped. 'Nama's hand left deep red lines on Shawn's face.
'She's cracked! He lost this one.' Your heart was racing, hoping neither of them remembered you were kneeling on the floor only feet away.
"You don't know nothin' about heart ache, boy. Quitcha belly aching and go cry to that cheap lil' princess of yours." 'Nama stood in her victory stance towering over Shawn's body, as he draped one arm over the table. She turned to leave after stating her claim.
The queen retaking her throne, but the stallion was not yet broken.
Shawn's gaze landed on 'Nama's back, as he curled his hand into a fist.
"'NAMA!" You screamed while Shawn stood up and stumbled towards her. You couldn't think of anything else to do. So as 'Nama turned towards her charging son, you wedged your way between her and Shawn.
He did not stop. You had closed your eyes at the wrong time, using your body as a shield even though you were still shaking. Shawn's fist hit you clean in the neck. You cough and sputter. You can't breathe! Your feet stumble over one another, trying to regain the balance lost in the blow.
"[Name]!" 'Nama's shrill voice cut into your ears, making your head spin even more. You topple over the broom left on the floor. You spin, trying to stay standing. But you failed. Falling on your knees… in the pile of shattered glass. 'Nama wailed at you and Shawn stood dumbstruck.
But the worst of it all, was that you didn't even scream.
(A/N) I type most of my stories on my iPod for conveyance. So halfway through this chapter my hispanic friend stole my iPod (not being stereotypical -3- it happened) and he wrote what he thought should happen...
"Then Shawn forgot the milk and died. Nama kept yelling and then eventually went to see what was going on. She saw Shawn there lying on the floor dead. Then Nama went into nine tailed fox mode and went crazy terrorizing Florida. Then came Killer Bee the eight tail jinchuriki and killed Nama and the florida went back to normal."
3-Gator