A/N: Well, welcome to my Boondock Saints story! Not gonna say much up here other than this isn't much more than an introductory chapter. And unlike all my other stories, this one won't have a Polyvore collection to accompany it. It just...didn't feel like it needed it.
Other than that, there isn't much to say. Hope you all enjoy. :)
Songs that inspired this chapter:
Give me Love - Ed Sheeran
I see Fire - Ed Sheeran
Disclaimer: I own NOTHING other than the names not recognized as characters from the actual Boondock Saints movies.
Sierra
This was pointless. Why was she here?
"Hi, I'm Candice," There's a chorus of 'Hi Candice' before she continues, "And I'm an alcoholic."
Don't sound too excited about that now California.
Sierra's AA class or whatever it is, consisted of six members. They've downsized for "better results".
There was Geoff, who was an ex-marine now for about five years since he retired and turned to drinking to help with PTSD. Almost drank himself dead. He's your basic skin-head, tanned skin, somewhat muscular, (The alcohol has brought on some more chubbiness that he once didn't have.), brown eyes, black hair, drove a dodge challenger. Douche bag.
There was Candice who was your basic rich Californian daughter. Parents had some major income, she came to Boston for a new start, hadn't worked a day in her life. Blonde hair, blue eyes, fake boobs, got in a drunk driving accident. This was her punishment. (She made Sierra's lip curl.)
There was Lou, who was an older man, creep if you asked Sierra. He always wore jeans and wife beaters, had a beer belly, and was balding at the top of his head. He beat his wife within an inch of her life and got fifteen years in prison and this class as punishment.
There's Carol who's a mother of two very rebellious teenagers, almost on the edge of adulthood now and spend most of their time either at rock shows or smoking in cemeteries. She's got brown crinkly hair, tired green eyes, and more times than not wears floral dresses, cardigans, and sandals. (She's in Boston for Christ's sake, the Southies no less. Sneakers are a requirement.)
You've got Peter who's just a father who left his family due to the fact that he and his wife fought one too many times and decided a divorce was in order. He's morbidly obese, wears cargo shorts, polo's, and Nikes. He just got out of rehab for some sort of drug and alcoholism because he drank his weight at a party and passed out and didn't wake up.
And then there's Sierra. She moved out from her parent's house when she was eighteen to attend MIT before dropping out after her bachelor's was achieved. She's got thick black wavy hair, wild green eyes (her father often referred to them as emeralds), and pasty pale skin. One night before she dropped out of college, she drank her friends under the table, not remembering the rest of the night. Imagine her surprise when she woke up in detox the next morning and with a court order the next day. She was sentenced to Alcoholics Anonymous classes for the next seven months and would submit to a blood test every month.
"Very nice Candice." The little blonde twig nods and bows before taking her seat next to Sierra again. The two were so different, like night and day. Candice wore colors, stood at a nice 5'5, and was real curvy. While Sierra was less lucky in the curves, (She was lucky enough to fill a B cup), and barely filled a size five jeans with a size three foot. She stood at a short 4'11 and wore mostly gray and black. Candice worse sandals and heels, while Sierra wore black studded combat boots that she hardly ever bothered to lace up all the way.
"Would you like to go next Sierra?" Said girl looked at their instructor before shaking her head.
"Pass." She mumbles, and Candice rolls her eyes as everyone groans.
"You've passed for the past month and a half Short-stack. C'mon, take a chance; let us get to know you." Geoff says, leaning forward across their circle and setting his arms on his knees. Sierra stares at him long and hard before rolling her eyes and shoving her purse under her chair and walking up to the podium.
"What do I say? 'Hi I'm Sierra and I almost drank myself dead'?" Geoff winced and she holds a hand up to him. "Sorry, no offense." He shakes his head, mumbling a; "None taken." And the instructor nods.
"Usually you talk about yourself, or describe how the past few days have gone for you." She encourages, pushing some orange…err…red hair behind an ear and crossing a leg as she leans back in her chair excitedly. Sierra sighs.
"Well, I like Nirvana, Guns n' Roses, real concert junkie. The past week was rather boring for me, between being a waitress and working a register at a bookstore, not really much time to drink anymore. I guess that's a good thing." Sierra shrugs after a few seconds of silence and they applaud her, quietly and slowly as she goes back to her seat.
"Alright now, everyone pick a partner, we're going to finish off with the trust fall exercise we always do, and meet again next week." Sierra sighs as Candice clutches her arm.
"I got Sierra!" She cheers, and the mention woman rolls her eyes as the blonde drags her to her feet as they push all the chairs and bags to the walls of the room and spread out, Candice's back to Sierra.
"Alright guys, ready?" Sierra refrains from rolling her eyes.
"This is so stupid." She mumbles but holds her arms out for Candice to fall into.
"And, fall!" The instructor calls out, and Sierra grins as she sidesteps Candice, making the blonde crash to the floor.
"Whoops! Sorry, I thought you were closer." Sierra apologizes as she helps up the spoiled Californian.
"No, it's alright. Your turn." Sierra instantly clams up as they switch positions and she fully expects Candice to let her fall to the ground like Sierra had with her. She sighs and screws her eyes shut and pitches her weight back, anxiously awaiting the hard floor.
Imagine her surprise when she falls safely into Candice's arms and the blonde smiles down at her.
"See? That wasn't so bad." Great. Now she feels like a bitch.
"Guess not." After that was done, the instructor claps a little as everyone's grabbing their things and stacking chairs.
"Alright everyone, we'll see you next week. Sierra, could I talk to you?" She nods and stays behind as everyone else leaves, and the two are just standing there in silence for a few beats.
She feels very much like she did ten years ago when she was seventeen, low confidence, self-esteem, and often kept her hands in her hoodie pocket and head down.
She was doing the almost same exact thing now.
"I think you did really well today Sierra. You're finally opening up. Maybe next week though try to open up a little more? If you're comfortable with it." The instructor, nametag read Karen, bites her thumbnail nervously.
"Guess…I'll try…" She mumbles non-comitial and Karen nods.
"Perfect. I'll let you get home." Sierra nods.
"Bye Karen." She waves a little.
"Bye Sierra."
She's leaning against one of the poles on the subway; they call it the T here. For whatever reason, Sierra doesn't know.
She's got her walkman headphones in, Incesticide playing loudly in her ears with her hood up and purse close. Sierra makes it a point to wear her old hoodie from her teenage years, it's big, baggy, and hides just how small she really is.
She's also wearing skinny jeans, her boots, and a black t-shirt under her black three-sizes-too-big hoodie.
Her purse doesn't really have a whole lot of important things in it. Her chapstick, birth control (Taking it for regulation purposes), other medication, some pens, pencils, a few scraps of paper and some receipts, and her wallet. Which only holds her driver's license and twenty bucks.
Okay, so maybe there are some important things in there.
Her parents still pay for her medication and it honestly makes Sierra feel like shit. Even through two jobs, a ratty apartment, and food stamps, she can't afford her own medication.
Which just consists of her birth control, anti-depressants, and some other medication to help control her anger and anxiety.
You could say Sierra was bi-polar to an extent. Not enough to get just the medication to help regulate her mood and anxiety. But enough to require four pills a day.
Sierra sighs as she reaches her stop and makes the long walk home.
Her apartment building is around the block from a small little pub that goes by the name of McGinty's and Sierra smiles as she remembers Doc who, upon her first entrance, was the only one who wasn't trying to push alcohol into her system.
Then she told a few guys around her that she couldn't drink and they pushed ginger ale's and different variants of soda into her hands along with sometimes chips and other small snacks.
Rocco was one of them. He was extremely bummed that she couldn't drink with him and his friends, but also helped her stay away from the alcohol.
It's like sticking a diabetic child in a candy store.
Or a recovering drug addict in a room full of drugs.
Or a recovering alcoholic in a bar.
You get the picture.
Sierra was just appreciative of Doc and Rocco being her only supporters at the moment.
As Mexican Seafood is starting, Sierra looks up at the ten flights of stairs she has to climb. This apartment building was the only reason she wasn't fat yet. The only other free apartment that was relatively decent was on the top floor. Which meant the fifth.
It made it increasingly hard to move, because the doors are stupid here and the top lock you have to turn three different directions before it actually unlocks.
Sierra lives across the hall from a nice Irish old lady who often gives her cakes or pies, sometimes even cheesecakes. She's never awake enough times though to see her neighbors though. And Mrs. McDonald always says that Sierra's missing out.
It's not her fault that they're always either up really early or come home really late.
Sierra has never really been hyperaware of her surroundings, but she knows when she's being followed. It's just one of those things that you tend to notice.
Finally, she reaches the top floor and is still being followed so Sierra turns her head ever so slightly in hopes of finding out who her stalker is.
Well, in this case, it's stalkers. Meaning plural.
Two guys, about the same in looks and height, (are those mirroring tattoos as well?), are seemingly following her as she makes her trek to her apartment.
One's got sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes and some facial hair and is relatively tan. He's wearing a gray t-shirt, jeans, boots, and a peacoat.
The other's got much darker, more chocolate hair, same blue eyes, but his facial hair is thinner, as if he's been cutting it down. He's wearing a black shirt, jeans, boots, and a peacoat.
God were these two twins or something?
Sierra sighs and picks up her pace a little, wanting nothing more than a cup of ramen, a slice of Mrs. McDonald's carrot cake, and a good night's sleep.
She sighs and hums along to Aero Zepplin as she rummages around in her purse for her keys, mentally kicking herself when she can't find them.
Her stalkers are zoning in on her position as she finally fishes out the little silver demons and working through the lock, making sure to pull the door towards herself and unlock it, slamming the door shut behind her.
Sierra's leaning against her door, panting, out of breath, recovering from an adrenaline rush, and waiting for someone to knock on her door.
And for five minutes no one does.
Now satisfied, Sierra drops her purse on her ratty and torn up couch with mismatching cushions, and moves over to her "kitchen".
It's literally two counters, one holding a sink, a stove, and a fridge. Not three feet away is her little dining table with two chairs, (Why two? Maybe just to make herself feel not so lonely?), which is literally not three feet away from her "bedroom".
Her "bedroom" consists of one dresser, one wardrobe, and her queen sized bed from Aberdeen. No bed frame, no night stand, one lamp, a package of batteries for her walkman, and various empty packages of cigarettes.
They said she couldn't drink, they said nothing about smoking.
As for the bookshelf containing CD's, her old school phonograph from an antique store, several records (You'd be surprised), and various actual books, some comic books ("You can't deprive me of my Batman!"), and some photos, it's across the room against the far wall with some unpacked boxes and her dresser and wardrobe.
With what little money Sierra manages to save, she's gotten shower curtains to give the exposed showers at least some privacy, along with the toilet. And with a college friend's help she's managed to successfully install a washer and dryer between her bookshelf and showers.
To say it cost a fortune would be an understatement. She's still paying back the guys who had to rebuild the wall because of water damage.
Sierra sighs before rummaging around in the cabinets under the counters that are her pantry and pulls a cup of ramen and fills it with hot water. (It takes ten minutes for the cold water to stop running.) Once that's done, she sets it on the table with a fork on top to keep the steam from escaping as she changes into some raggedy sweat pants and puts a Beethoven record on the phonograph and turns it down a little. Last time she got yelled at for blasting Nevermind.
Whoops.
Though the old man down the hall was the only one that minded. No one else had.
Funny.
Sierra shakes her head and hums along with Moonlight Sonata as she slurps hungrily at her noodles before dumping the seasony water and goes into her fridge and cuts herself a slice of Mrs. McDonald's carrot cake before re-wrapping it and sitting on her bed with her paper plate and plastic fork with Of Mice and Men and picks up where she left off.
Sierra's head jerks up at the sound of yelling, foreign languages, and things being thrown.
It takes her a very long while before she decides that she shouldn't call the cops, because this isn't the first time it happened.
The first week she moved in she had and then they came back saying that this regularly happened, it was just a brotherly scuffle and she shouldn't worry.
Doesn't exactly ease her mind but whatever.
"Not my problem." She grumbles, finishing the cake and throwing away the plate and dropping the fork in the sink before marking her book and burrowing herself under her blankets.
As Moonlight Sonata ends, Sierra's eye droop shut, the sounds of fighting dwindling down to nothing.
A/N: So! Again! Hope you enjoyed. Feel free to leave any questions or thoughts in a review. And if you liked this feel free to favorite it and follow it so you know when I update this story.
See you guys around!
-Alice