We're The Back Pocket Believers (All Time Low Fan Fiction)

Prologue

DISCLAIMER : I do not own All Time Low or  Hopeless Records . I do not own the characters such as Alex , Zack Rian or Jack . I only own the plot and some of the characters .

I couldn't believe it . I wouldn't believe it . Yet I had to . Here , lying in front of me was the fresh corpses of my mother and brother . I leaned over them , tears running freely down my face , sobs escaping out my mouth . I shook them gently with my shivering hands , but they did not wake .

How could this have happened so quickly ? Just a few minutes ago we'd all been laughing and joking , on our way to Liz Smith's , Mum's best friend since pre-school . I hadn't seen her for years ,  and so I'd been excited .

We weren't rich people, so Mum's car was a tiny one . It was squashed with only the three of us . What we could fit in the boot , we did , but a lot of our luggage was spread across our laps .

Steven , my brother , was the oldest out of the two of us by a year , so he sat in the passenger seat . He and Mum got the full blast of the crash .

What had we been talking about , while so unaware of what was going to happen next ? Peanuts . Steven was allergic to peanuts , and Liz loved them ,so we were laughing about what would happen if he ate some while we were there .

"My face would swell up like a pumpkin" Steven laughed . 

"I'd love to see that " I agreed . Mum simply shook her head at the two of us .

Then , all of a sudden , there was a violent smash , and the car was on its side , and silence was the only thing I could hear . It was as loud as trumpets blasting in my ears .

My family was dead . I knew that much without having to look at them , but I did anyway because I couldn't believe myself .

Steven was lying on the pavement , his limbs sprawled across the path . Blood trickling down his face was the only movement from his body . HIs mouth and eyes were wide open  and mirroring the pain I could feel in my chest .

Mum was still in the car , her head slumped against the steering wheel . Her eyes were closed , her mouth twisted with her last laugh silently echoeing from it .

Dead .

"Hazel ? Hazel !" Arms shaking me awoke me from my dream . 

"Huh ?" I said groggily , blinking . Cait , my 'foster mother' stood above me . 

"You were having a nightmare " She said , "Screaming like anything ." 

"Oh . Sorry ."

She left me to get dressed , but first I went to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face . That nightmare , again ! I had been having that same dream every night since the accident .

I stared into the bathroom mirror and winced . My face looked nothing like it had looked just weeks before . As well as the bruise on my cheek , and the jagged cut along my hairline , my face was skinny and pale . My black hair hung limply around my head , and my dark brown eyes loomed out like muddy orbs .

What I hated most nowadays was my eyes . They were the only part of me that stayed the same , but they looked so different . Mum and Steven had exactly the same eyes as I do , and I hate mine for that . Evry time I looked in a reflective surface I was reminded of my family .

Back in my room , I pulled on some jeans and a sweatshirt . Cait calls it my room , but it's not at all . The walls are ivory white , the floors clean and polished wood . The curtains , bed clothes , and rug on the floor match , but I didn't pick them out . Any of my things that I've brought here are lying untouched in various bags and boxes under my bed .

After the accident , it's hard to remember anything . For hours , at least thats what it seemed like , I sat with my family , only hearing the thudding of my own heart , but then suddenly there were crowds of people around me . They asked me questions , like my name and what happened but I couldn't think . I stood there , blinded by the sudden lights of their cars , until they bundled me into an ambulance and carted me off to hospital .

They told me that ny mother and brother were dead . Like I didn't already know that . They introduced me to John , my social worker , who told me he was very sorry for my loss . Then they brought me to a 'special room' where I could have some 'private time' to 'think' .

I stayed in the hospital for a total of three days , while they made sure I was okay . I got stitches on my arms , and an my right leg , and for a few days I had to use a crutch , but apart from that , I was fine .

Since I had no living relatives , at least that they could find (i.e. my dad) , they sent me into a sort of orphanage . The techinical name was a foster facility , but everyone I knew just called it The Home .

I hate it here . It's called a home , but it's not a home at all . Everyone else here has been here for years , and made friends of their own . When I first arrived , they had obviously been told to be nice to me , because they kept asking if I wanted to join in and do this , or come up and play that . Within hours , the act had vanished , and was left sitting alone in 'my' room .

I don't mind , though . I prefer it like that , actually . It's nice , relaxing , I get to just think .

At night , I hate this place even more . The room is small , and when it's dark it's like I'm in that car all over again , and I'm screaming and screaming , but nobody's coming , and it's just me and Steven and Mum , but they're dead and I'm alone , always alone .

When morning comes , it's kind of refreshing . But it still makes me remember that none of this was a bad dream , and I'm going to be stuck in this 'Home' forever .