YAY! First Fanfic here! I decided that since I've been sick and it's almost winter break, I might have a lot of time to write... Which I love to do... This means that I'll be uploading pretty soon!
Also, I will take any suggestions or plot bunnies! I'm actually looking for one romantic plot bunny... Don't worry, I will not allow this to become a romance! I promise!
Plot bunny contest: Please pick one MALE character from PJO and pick a way for them to meet my character... :D
Winner gets a character in my story!
My mother pulls me close, her scrawny arms tugging at my body. Her cold, bloodshot eyes bear into my soul, searching for anything, simply something to grasp in her drunken state. Seeing nothing, her frustration bubbles, a force rippling through her body. She turns it upon me, smacking me upside the head. I feel the warm mark of her hand where it hit and I grab at my head, attempting to stop the rough pain.
"Nev'r 'gain," she slurs, her mind deluded with the ale in her hand.
I've done nothing wrong, although I fear my mother so I give her the response she wishes to hear.
"I-I'm sorry," I stammer in response. I'll do anything to get her away from me, anything at all.
"B'eter be," she grumbles to herself as she takes yet another swig from the bottle in her hand. "B'eter be s'rry."
She gets up suddenly, knocking me off her lap and sending the contents of the table before her to the floor. She staggers towards the couch on the other side of the room and lays herself upon it. She attempts to take yet another swig from her bottle, but it's empty. The frustration returns to her in that moment, bubbling angrily yet again. She grabs the empty bottle and throws it into the fireplace. The force of the blow sends shards of glass everywhere. A small shard impales itself into my left hand and I let out a small cry of pain.
"Ou there," my mother shouts at me. "'Nother 'ottle!"
I race to the kitchen, knowing not to raise my mother's temper when she is drunk. Just before my hand touches the fridge handle, a picture on the fridge catches my eye. A man, dark as night, stares back at me. His eyes are the one thing that catches mine. They seem to have an eternity of knowledge behind them. I stare into the eyes of my father for only a moment too long.
"'Ere's my 'eer?" my mother shouts angrily at me, awakening me from my daydream.
"I-I'll be right there."
I whip the door open and look for my mother's case of beer. There, in the very back, are the wretched bottles. With my hands shaking, I grasp one bottle by its neck before making my way towards my mother. I hand it to her and she shoves it back into my hands.
"O'en it!" she shouts angrily.
I take the bottle opener and attempt to open the bottle, but my hands shake so badly that I can't hold it. The bottle escapes my grasp and shatters on the ground.
"Stupid!" my mother shouts, hitting my head once more.
I run from the room, upwards towards my own. I pack everything I can into my bag, everything I own. I set down the stairs, slinging my bag over my back and unlocking the front door. Just as I am about to step outside, I remember something.
I almost forgot my father.
I step back into the house, dragging my feet towards the kitchen. I stagger towards the fridge; my body ready to explode into tears from the pain my head is still in. With my good hand, I grab at the image of my father, knocking the little, smiling fridge magnet to the ground.
I race back towards the front door. Anger bubbles within me, both towards my parents and towards myself.