My name is Tallulah Leann Schuester. I'm 16 years old. And I hate my name. Sure, it was a cute name for say maybe a five year old. I used to love it, dubbing myself Princess Tallulah as I played with my friends. But as the years passed, I grew to hate it. My uncle Will eventually shortened it to Telly, which I preferred so much more. My mother still insisted on calling me Tallulah though. I winced every time as though I were in pain. Pretty soon to my mother's dismay, it caught on and my father and everyone else I knew began to call me Telly. She simply rolled her eyes. Can you imagine the weird looks I got once people learned my name? The "Oh-my-her-mother-was-crazy-when-she-named-her" look. And they weren't exactly off the target. My mother used to be full of life. She had a smile that lit of the room and an air of mystery followed. She cared more for her family, always putting them before her. My father said that's why he married her when he used to tell me stories of their love.
But my mother went of the deep end when my father passed. I was 13 when he died. He had an aneurysm in the middle of the night while he slept and died immediately. Leaving my mother to care for myself and my three brothers, Cohen, Ethan, and Dallas. The stress and pressure began to get to her as she tried to keep it together. I didn't exactly help either. I was ungrateful, I knew it. My father had just died, my mother was barely paying attention to my needs to be able to comfort me or herself for that matter. I had hit puberty and with everything that was happening, I wanted to rebel. And rebel I did. When my mother was at home trying to keep my younger brothers out of trouble, I was out with my "new" friends drinking. The curfew that had been previously set was wasted away as I discovered the slew of drugs that easily awaited me. I took anything and everything that would send me into a state of ecstasy as long as it took me away from my life and real world. On the occasional nights I was home mother and I would be fighting. I would storm out obviously not having my way. My mother hated it and pretty soon she began to hate the person I had become. I wouldn't admit it, but I began to hate who I had become also. But like my father, I was stubborn and stuck in my ways. The first time I ran away I came back the next day. The second time I was gone for three. The days began to increase each time I was gone. The last time was the final straw for my mother. I had come home completely blazed with a new addition to my body. I had gotten my first piercing (other than my ears), a Monroe--I had really wanted a septum, but I was too chicken--and it sent my mother over the edge.
"What is that on your face?" She screamed once she saw it. I had only just walked through the door, but she could have spotted it a mile away.
"It's just a piercing." I shrugged it off as if I was no big deal. And it wasn't.
"You're beautiful face!" She cried out dramatically. "You're ruining your beautiful face by punching holes through it!"
"It's no big deal. Take a freakin' valium." I mouthed, knowing that remark was the start of our next and last fight.
She took a deep breath to steady herself, as I pushed passed her and began to make my way towards the kitchen. I was nearly dying of thirst and there was a bottle of orange juice in that fridge with my name on it. "I can't do this anymore." She said in a shaky voice. I just rolled my eyes and continued to walk. "I've talked to your uncle Will. You're going to stay with him for awhile." She said with more confidence this time.
I stopped dead in my tracks. What the hell? She had absolutely no right to do this! My life was here. My "friends," my school--though I often never went--my brothers. I turned around to look at her.
"Don't fight me on this. You're going." She stared at me with those cold eyes that I had given her so many times. But I knew I couldn't do much. I simply screamed and stormed up to my room in a fit of teenage, hormonal anger.
A/N The first chapter is short, I know. It's my first story on here, my other stories are on mibba. Hopefully you like this. So many ideas are running through my head.
Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated (: