Nothing to lose - jj Maybank.

Welcoming a bastard - chapter 1.

" Are you fucking kidding me, " I groaned as I wrenched my suitcase from trunk, my feet heavier than ever.

" Hey. language, " my dad blurted, obviously on his last minute of calm before some sort of calamity happened to fuck up his day.

Spoiler alert. I'm the so called " calamity " he references oh so often.

I haul my luggage in, feet dragging before halting to a stop, then walking in.

" Huh. 'Seems kind of okay," I mutter, flip-flops smacking against the marble floor as I mosey in and up the stairs.

I look around.
Marble floors, white plaster colored walls, chandeliers, china, and newly hired staff.

I snort, noticing a painting of an ugly man.
It was an abstract painting.
And though I appreciate art, this is not one I appreciated, per se.

" Where's my room, " I uttered to my dad, which was hauling in more of our luggage.

I kink my head to the side, waiting for him to catch his breath and then answer me.

" Up those stairs, to the right. First door you'll see," a staff member chimes in.

She was young.
Maybe around my age.
Asian, slicked back hair, and dark brown eyes.
She was quite tall as well.

I nodded, thanking her before hiking up the stairs towards freedom.

I grab the door-knob, twisting it and walking forward, to be welcomed and enveloped by art lining the walls.

The room felt empty.

So fucking empty.

Even with all of this art lining the walls.

I closed the door behind me, walking towards the canopy bed, setting my duffle bag down, and unzipping it with ease.

I reach in, finding purchase on a small piece of art.

It was simple.

It was mine.

Well.. and my mom's.

She made it for me.

It made this room feel safer.
More calm. More me.

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It was the evening now.
I'd put all my stuff away.
I had to get out of here because well..
Dad got.. eh.
It wasn't a good time to be home.

I tiptoed down the stairs and out the door with my makeup bag in hand.

I'd taken a shower earlier.
The makeup washed off.

NOT good.
Not good at all.

I opened the door, and shut quietly on my way out, booking it towards the dock and slipping on my sneakers.

I made my way to the boat, hopping in, undocking it, turning on the ignition, and speeding away towards a super barren area of side of the island, docking at what seemed to be an abandoned house.

( I changed my mind it's semi enemies to lovers )

I sat down, pulling out foundation, dabbing it over a few distinctive scars on my upper arm, before then grabbing color corrector and smearing it over a few deep and purplish bruises, applying powder and then adding some foundation to finish off.

I was beginning to take the foundation and apply it to old raised lines on my arms, when a voice carried over and across the area.

" Who the fuck are you, " the boy demanded, blunt in hand.

"I- uh- I'm Flo. And who might you be? " I stuttered, fumbling my words, asking in return.

" Hm. JJ, " he said, taking a drag before asking me, " why are you here? ", tone even and steady unlike mine.

It was irritating.

" I needed to get out of the house and I don't know the town, " I replied, voice steady this time.

" If you don't know the town then why are you here? I could murder you right now. The chateau? Super dangerous! " The last words were pure and unadulterated sarcasm.

" Tch, if I was murdered it'd be worthy of a celebration, " I mumbled.
" Can I stay here? I have weed. The good shit. "

" Aight, but only for the weed, " he agreed, adding a little curry on top.

I stepped out of the boat and onto the " chateau ", as JJ referred to it earlier, pulling out a bag of weed.

He took a bit and rolled it into a blunt, pulling out a lighter, sparking it a bit before lighting the blunt and taking a drag.

He exhaled, sighing dramatically while sitting in a hammock.

" 'Gimme. Now," I demanded, snatching the za and taking a drag before propping up my head with my hand as I sat next to him in the hammock, at least half a foot of space between us.

His eyes dropped to my arm, eying 8 raised lines of different lengths.

He seemed to take a second to choose whether or not to acknowledge it.

I exhaled, bored.

"Who happened to you," he asked, nodding his head toward my arm, his brow raised inquisitively.

" Oh so now you want my life store, boy? " I teased, smirking, dimple creased in the middle of my cheek.

" No. I just wanna know how you got your arm that fucke- ", he uttered.

" Me," I blurted.

" Hm? " he questioned, confused.

" I happened, " I spouted, face vacant and pupils dilated.

" Mm. " he mumbled in acknowledgment, taking the blunt from my hand.

" Where do you live," he asked.

" Figure fucking eight. "

" why are the hot ones always kooks, " he whined.

He shifted, taking another drag.

" Since we're getting things out in the open- "
I was cut off by a blaring alarm.

" 'Welp, here she comes. " JJ said, standing up and grabbing my arm, pulling me inside.

" I'M SORRY. HERE WHO COMES? ", I yelled, pulling back.

" Do you wanna fucking die?' " he asked bluntly.

" I eh- ", before I could finish my sentence, the mop head dragged me inside, closing the door, locking it behind us.

" A hurricane. A hurricane is coming. "
He continued.

" so, do I stay here? Am I stuck here? How long am I stuck here? "
Questions bubbled out all at once as I spiraled, then pulled by a hand on my shoulder.

" Yes. You're stuck here. And for the whole god damn night. " he said, calmly.

" So, just fucking relax. ", he demanded as he plopped down on the couch.

I plopped down next to him, asking," hey, uhm. What the fuck are " kooks "," I asked, curiosity peeking out.

"Oh, just everyone who lives on figure eight. "
He stated, his tone unenthusiastic and rather annoyed.

" Oh.. I live on figure eight.. so I take it you don't per se, like me either? " I questioned.

He shifted, replying, " well, you aren't as bad.. I guess." He admitted sheepishly.

" Oh, what were you gonna say earlier? " he asked.

" Ohhhh.. yeah, my dad beats me. ", I said bluntly, my face blank and unwavering.

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OMG 1090 words!!!!!
Let's fucking go bro.