Sorry it's taken me so long to write this!! Its end f term here in Australia and for the past few weeks all I've been doing is studying for exams and doing assignments! And in a few days I'm going touring around Europe for a month! But I might still have the internet in some places and I'll still be working on the chapters, so yeah D. Thanks loads to everyone who reviewed! You're all awesome!! Well, here's the second chapter, hopefully it's as good or better than the first!
Disclaimer (forgot this in chap 1.. woops): I don't own Maximum Ride, or any of the characters, only this amazingly genius plot line D
Max's POV
I stopped. I stared. He stared back. The only thing going through my mind right now: what the fuck.
My heart stopped dead inside my chest, and my eyes froze on those of the boy- a deep chocolate brown that had a charming innocence to them, even though he was in the middle of raiding my room.
"I, uh… Umm, I..." He stuttered through his vocabulary, trying to find something to say, but I doubt he would find anything to explain this. The initial essence of shock had worn off, clearing my thoughts to the reality of this.
I was being robbed. It was as simple as that. I though of screaming, but what good would that do? My dad would just come walking in, half asleep, probably not bothering to call the police and claim I was just asking for attention. Basterd.
A soft rage began to bubble inside me. How the hell did he get in here?!
"What the fuck are you doing in here?!" I whispered harshly, amazed that I'd managed to spit the sentence out without stumbling.
"Uh, I'm sorry," he mumbled lamely.
I threw my towel down on the floor and took a few steps towards him. Somewhere in the back of my head I thought of the likely situation that he was armed with a gun or knife, but wouldn't he have already used it by now?
"Who are you? And what are you doing here?" I asked in the same tone as before.
"I'm sorry!" he said again. "This was all a mistake!" No doubt about it, there was true fear lacing its way through his words. But was his claim for this to be accidental true? I highly doubted that.
The boy dropped the bag he was holding onto the floor. Thousands of dollars worth of gold, silver and precious stones were scattered carelessly across the carpet, landing with a soft thud and a clink.
All the jewelry I had collected in my short life was strewn all over the floor. The necklace I got when we visited France was tangled around a thin golden chain from China. Earrings connected to bracelets, brooches and rings. In the middle of it all was my Mum's bracelet. I held my breath to stop the scream.
In a way, I almost felt sorry for the intruder. He was scared shitless, his little heist had failed miserably and it looked as though he hadn't eaten (or bathed) for weeks. But then I remembered he had great potential to kill me right about now.
"Um, I should… Go…" Moving for the first time, he took one step away from me, moving towards the window. My eyes followed him in an intense glare every step he took. Almost falling, he toppled backwards out of the window, amazingly landing on his feet.
"If I ever see you here again, you'll never see the light of day again," I hissed before dramatically slamming the window down and locking it.
The boy sprinted towards the gate. Out of the corners of darkness two other kids joined him. So this was all a team effort. The youngest could have been no older than 11. The boy himself only looked about my age, maybe a year older.
As soon as I was sure they were out of sight and I was out of danger, I broke down. I fell to the ground, quietly sobbing, my breathing uneven and rugged. How close had I come to losing everything I owned? 5 more minutes, and it could all be gone. How did he even get past the security system?! It was impossible! And if someone like him could get in, then how many other people are sitting down in their front yards, plotting, scheming the downfall of me or my siblings. Will someone more powerful come along and kill us? Torture us? What if the next one doesn't just walk away?
My entire body shook as I stood up. Carefully, I began picking up my valuables and putting them back where they belong. I checked thoroughly to make sure that nothing had been taken and that everything was still there. Thank god, it was.
Climbing into bed, I knew I was in for a wrestles night full of nightmares and paranoia.
The following morning I felt exhausted. On a Saturday, I would normally get 8 or more hours sleep, 12am-8am. Last night, I only got 3 hours.
Sleep was impossible. Even the smallest gust of wind would wake me up in a hurry, my legs prepared to jump up to the window just to check that everything was ok.
Slowly, I made my way to the kitchen table. Pancakes were waiting for me in my usual seat.
Drenching the food in about half a bottle of maple syrup, I took a massive mouthful. It barely even fit in my mouth and syrup dribbled lazily down to the end of my chin. If only I had the actual energy to wipe it off.
"Maxy, you've got syrup all over you!" giggled the little 6 year old, Angel. As much as I wanted to smile at her, all I could do was grunt. A finger dabbed my skin, wiping away a bit of the sticky liquid, but I barely acknowledged it.
A few seconds later a soft, wet tongue wiped its way across my chin. Well, that sure knocked me back into reality. "Eww! Gazzy! What was that for?!" He just sat there, grinning at me, seeming so proud of himself. A sneak attack. Those don't happen very often. I smiled back involuntarily. I mean, how can you not smile when someone has just ambushed you and covered your chin in their slobber?
Angel and Gazzy both began to giggle like immature kids- which is all they are, I guess. It was a rare moment of carefree happiness, a perfect freeze frame of time.
But a perfect moment never lasts.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway, into the kitchen. Sitting down at the table, the man pulled out his trusted newspaper and began to read the business section intently. Instantly Gazzy and Angel were quiet, eating their breakfast neatly and quickly. I did the same.
My heart fell. An empty silence filled the room. The same empty silence that happens at every single meal. The same tension, tearing us all apart inside. Three people wanted to scream at this table. Three people wanted to just throw things around the room, let loose their destructive side and release all the anger built up inside them in one massive explosion. But that would never happen. We all enjoyed living.
"I'm finished, Dad," a small voice squeaked out.
"Then go put your plate in the sink." Short and blunt.
Gazzy got up out of his seat and dropped his plate in the sink. It slipped on the edge of the bench, and then fell into the sink with a loud crash. The newspaper was thrown down.
"Can't you even clean a plate without breaking everything?!" The small boy shrunk into a corner. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you kids, honestly!" A whimper started to appear in Gazzy. "All you ever do is moan, ask for money, destroy everything in this fucking house, eat, sleep and make a mess!"
'I'm sorry," Gazzy said in a small voice.
"Sorry? Garret, Sorry isn't going to buy us new plates! Sorry isn't going to pay for everything! What's sorry going to do?! Nothing! It's just a word, it can't do anything!" By this point my poor, helpless little baby brother had tears in his eyes. He didn't even know what he had done wrong.
"But… The plate didn't even-"
"Don't talk back to me! You have no respect for me! You don't have any respect for anyone! You're a pathetic fucking waste of my life!"
Tears flowed freely from his face now, streaming down his pink cheeks. He was terrified and he could do nothing about it.
"I should've just gotten rid of you when it was easy! Save me money, save me time, save me-"
"Shut up!!"
All eyes turned to me. Dad's eyes were full of fury, ready to tear me apart just because I interrupted him. I didn't care. He deserves it. I hated him more than anything in the world sometimes. And I'd already had a bad morning.
"The plate didn't even break! So stop screaming at him! Okay?" The tiny hairline crack doesn't really count, right?
"Who put you in charge of disciplining my children?"
"Who was crazy enough to fuck you to conceive the poor kids?" I spat back at him. His face brightened to a fire-engine red. Ok, maybe that was a bit too soon into the fight, but who cares?
"Maybe we should have been more careful," his words were slow and forced. "Then I wouldn't have ended up with you."
"And who's fault is that?" I sneered at him.
"Your mothers."
I bit my cheeks as hard as I could, until the metallic taste of blood washed along the tip of my tongue.
"Fuck off," I whispered. That was harsh beyond any moral.
I turned my back on everyone, and stormed up to my room.
Grabbing an old backpack from my wardrobe, I started throwing things in- changes of clothes, hidden stashes of money, my mum's bracelet.
Once the bag was full, I threw open the window and jumped out. The air was cool on my skin, a refreshing cleanser.
Jumping the back fence, I jogged away from my house. I'd be back later tonight. But for now, I was gone, letting the wind take me away.
Well, that wasn't that great. But that's cause I'm about to fall asleep and I just needed to put this up before I went away! The next chapter will be heaps better, I promise. Oh, and when I put Gazzy's name as being Garret, that's cause no one in the right mind is going to name their poor kid Gazzy so I had to make it a nickname. Reviews are loved as always. Bye people !!