Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ The Story of My Life ❯ Chapter 1

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: All characters, and the plot is owned by me.
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Exiting the tiny little cubicle of space that I called a bathroom, I paused in the hallway to open a cabinet- Mind you, this has been here for years, and held various plants atop it, and made the space very cramped in the tiny walkway- and shift through a load of towels to pull out a gun.

Just your average BB Gun. Don't get all squirmy.

I looked for the cartridge, faintly remembering that I bought it to shoot at dogs when my boxer went into heat, before I threw open the door.

It was muggy beyond relief, and I felt like I was going to throw up. The air was so thick, and heavy that I was already getting a headache. God, I hate the weather up here.

I filled it with a ball, and shot at the nearest bush.

Poor nature?

No, poor me.

I did it again, vaguely wondering if I should try using a needle 'stead of the usual ammo. Maybe something would happen.. Like the gun'd blow up in my face, and brains would splatter everywhere.

I wish. Soooo bad.

"Son'?"

Who was that? .. Shit, was that my mom? Fuck, fuck, fuck. I don't want to talk with her right now.

I slumped down on the nearest lawn-chair, and waited a minute or two before I called back, "Oi, over here!"

"'Kay!"

Right. That was Brit.

I watched her climb up the stairs to the deck, and I randomly pointed it at her, demanding a password. I got none.

"Eeeh, don't shoot!" Brit waved her hands in the air frantically, a mock grimace on her face.

I laughed, and it felt good. It felt good to laugh.

Really good.

"Or what? You'll come back as a zombie, and eat my spleen? Pft."

Not the best comment ever, but I'd grown rather fond of saying things.. well, like that.

Brit made her way over to the chair next to mine, though that one rocked back and forth, and was actually directed straight at the table. Mine was sort've slanted.

"Haha, very funny. I'd rather eat your liver."

Ouch.

"And then, after you eat my brain, you'll die of food poisoning. I'mma laugh all the way to hell n' back when that happens."

Ha. I so burned you. Right? I hope I did.

"So.." Brittany continued, more warily than before, "Why are you out here? Surely there's better things to do inside, you little vampire."

Okay, okay, so I don't like the sun... and I'm sort've a hermit. Don't harp on me about it, damn'et.

"Thought I'd join the living for a few. Computers fucked up. Running on five hours of sleep for the past three days, and I'm jacked up on so much coffee I think it's running in my blood.."

A dramatic pause followed, "But 'nough 'bout me. What about you?"

"Err," Brit tried to recover, lamely I might add, "that sucks. Just thought I'd come by, and see how my favorite pest was doing."

"Aww, 'ow kind of you. Zat isn't nec'sary, o' course. Zilly 'ittle human."

Okay, that was gay, but you have to admit I'm getting better with that whole fake accent.

Brit was all shits n' giggles at that point, probably laughing over how ridiculous I sounded. I chose that opportune moment to fire off my gun again, jokingly pointing it at my head now. It wasn't loaded, of course.

"Get that damn thing away from your face, Son."

That sobered her up, eh?

"I think I'm going to kill myself.."

"Don't say that."

"Do you know how frustrating it is? I've spent over two hundred dollars in anti-virus shit, got a new battery for the damned thing, and wiped the memory clean twice. It's dying, I tell you! And I don't have the money for a new one.."

I was lying- I did, but the computer meant so much to me. It was the one thing both of my parents bought for me together.

"That's not why you're upset, is it?"

She didn't know about the past, but her question was enough to explain the future.

"They're getting a divorce.."

"When?"

"Next month.."

Brittany had the compassion to actually scoot her lazy ass over to me, and give me a hug. I returned it, if only a bit robotically.

"I'm sorry-" She started, not able to finish.

"You're the only one who is, I'm sure."

"What do you mean?"

"You know they don't give a shit. You hear them at night, don't you?"

I twisted from her grasp, gave her a pitiful little look, and continued firing the gun. It was loud, similar to the roaring of thunder echoed in a valley, and my movements were sleek, graceful, even, and if only the slightest bit angry. Perhaps a reminder of the way candlelight dances across ripples in the water.

No? Must be the poet in me.

"But.."

"They don't give a shit! I don't fucking give a shit either, okay? It's fine. I'll be transferred from one home to the other every week unless I'm put up for adoption. Maybe I'll move in with my aunt, but I'unno."

I shot it again, not waiting for the ringing in my ears to stop.

"Anything is better than dealing with the shit they put me through."

I felt tears brim my eyes, and bile rise in my throat. Those.. those loathsome creatures that I had to call my kin were so.. so.. loathsome. I hate them. They hate me too- They have for a long, long time.

"You can't be serious."

"Oh, I am."

"I can't believe this is happening to you, Son.."

"Shit happens, Brit. I deal with it. It's the only way to live at this point."

I had the sudden urge for a Margarita, or Fuzzy Navel. Something to burn away the bile in my throat. A shot of Canadian Whiskey would do it well, but there's none of that in the house. I dumped it all out last time the bitch got drunk.

"You shouldn't have to."

"I shouldn't? True enough, but I have to.."

"Stay over at my house?"

"Tonight? Gladly."

I packed my bags, and without bothering to tell those inhuman things that I was going anywhere, I left to my best friend's house, happy to get away from it all. It was a nice sleep over, as always, but I never really did sleep. Stupid insomnia.

But the thing that scares me the most when I think about this all, when I think about my parents- The fighting, the abuse.. the things thrown, and torn, and shredded..and broken? The hearts ripped, and the minds tortured? I get scared because sometimes.. sometimes I just don't care.. Sometimes I want to listen.. I want to bleed, and feel the pain, and revel in the way it feels to be hurt. Maybe I'm preparing myself for something.. Something later in life. My adulthood? Surely.

Or maybe..

Maybe I'm just crazy.



That was eight years ago. I was twelve then.

Surprising? Of course..

Anyways, I'm twenty now, and attending college. Around sixteen I had an extreme breakdown, and had to take therapy. That ended well enough when I was convinced that if I shut up, then they'd let me go.

They did.

I spent about a year or two getting hyped up on drugs, and at one point I was knocked up. That kid was a bitch to push out, but I'm happy to say that she's one of the few things that I'm proud of.

I stopped the drugs, and alcohol abuse as soon as I found out I was pregnant. It was a real eye opener, and even though Brit, and I had grown apart, she was the first shoulder I turned to.

She was glad to offer her support, but once the kid was born, I decided to do it on my own.

I finished school, and even dated a bit. Got a scholarship, and I'm currently studying engineering.

Hey, that shit pays.

What, you thought drug-addicts can't be smart? Just because I didn't use a condom doesn't mean I wasn't school-smart. Jeez.

Anyways, I'm supporting myself, and Roxanne rather well. Brittany is actually my roommate- Hey, did I mention that this college actually hired a nanny for me so I could attend? I was going to put it off for a few years, but everything turned out for the best.

I've never contacted my parents since the divorce, which was actually a good thing. For my teenage years I stayed with my aunt. She was a big help during the pregnancy... I named my girl after her. I think she had a heart attack when I did that.

Oh, and the father? I told him, and he bailed. He wasn't ready for a kid. Not the only one, but at least I wanted one.. maybe not so soon, but anyways..

I'm dating a boy- man who's had about as many problems in his life as me. At least we understand each other. Hey, did I mention he's a football player?

Nah, I'm just kidding. He's an architect. Hot one, too. Want a picture?

My life turned around.

I still have the scars from when I cut myself, and my childhood will always be tainted. I'll never forgive my parents, nor my baby's father. I'm a top student now, but I'll never forget how I got here.

I dealt with life's shit.

~Author's Notes~

These events are not real, nor are the characters.

My muse was bugging me, so this popped into mind. There's nothing else to do but write right now, so hey- Why not?

Anyways, I hope you liked it. <3