Crooked Young (Oli Sykes) ✔️

Chapter 1

so this is a book I will be starting soon. for now here's like a first chapter so you can kinda get into it before I start posting more. hope you'll like it!

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"Katrina, I do not want to see your face again unless it is to tell me that you've got a job. Now get out!" My father seethed between gritted teeth as he forced me out of the front door and slammed it shut in my face.

I sighed and firmly shut my eyes, fighting back the tears that were so desperately trying to escape. My father got so mad at me whenever I cried. And even though he couldn't see me do it right now, I still didn't want to.

I then crossed my arms over my chest in a protective manner and marched down the driveway, quickly making my way to the front gates, as my father no doubt watched me from the window.

He had gradually turned into this over the past few months. And every week it just got worse. I tried not to tick him off, really I did, but it seemed that sometimes my mere existence would make him angry.

He hated me. I knew that much. With what other reason would you ever physically and mentally abuse your own child?

He wasn't always like that though. He used to be a pretty decent man. He wasn't much of a father, but he wasn't this hateful. It all changed when my mother died in a tragic car accident a few months ago.

It was my birthday and my mother wanted to celebrate at a really fancy restaurant after catching a beautiful play at the theatre in the city. We were all in the limousine at the time. My father and I sat on the far end and my mother on the left side.

Another car unexpectedly collided with our limousine, killing my mother and our driver almost instantly. My father had to get his leg amputated and I had a shattered wrist and a mild head injury.

What came after that though, seemed to upset my father worse than the initial death of my mother; we lost all of our money.

My mother, you see, came from a very rich family. One of the richest and finest in the area actually. My grandfather owned a bunch of really big companies, so when he died, all of the fortune was passed down to his only child... my mother.

But when she died, her money went with her. My mother's lawyer told us that the only person written in her final will was Katrina Anne Winters. Yep, that was me. But it also stated that her will was not to be carried out until I was at the age of 25.

Which meant that I still had a few years to go.

The mortgage on our mansion had been long paid for. It had been in our family for generations. But over the past couple of months my father had sold most of the furniture, art and other things to be able to pay for his health bills and other things that I didn't even know of.

It had now come down to barely even having much food in the house.

It was strange going from living such a luxurious life to practically living like a poor person stuck in a mansion within a matter of weeks. I didn't mind though. Sure, I was used to the rich life, but it was a lonely life.

I had gone to a private high school. I had basically no close friends, just a few acquaintances from the country club that we always visited. And I certainly had never had a job, only because my mother didn't find that suitable for a girl. She was old-fashioned like that.

Times had changed though. Now I was forced to find a job. And I had to do it quick. I honestly wouldn't have minded if there wasn't such pressure behind it. And it was only so my father could keep up the act of still being rich to his friends at the country club.

Some days I wondered why I even put up with him. But then I reminded myself of how he was all I had, whether I enjoyed it or not. That and he did an amazing job at scaring me into never truly leaving.

While deep in thought, I had made my way out of the 'rich side' of the city and walked straight into the backstreets of downtown. I had never been here before. I never had a reason to until now.

I had found an application on the internet about a local community center hiring people for numerous positions. I figured I could fit in with at least one of them, even though I had no working experience whatsoever. But either way, that's where I was headed.

I was taking in all of my surroundings, when suddenly I collided into someone. I bounced back off the person, stumbling backwards and falling flat onto my backside. "My sincerest apologies, I didn't mean to—"

"My sincerest apologies." Someone then repeated in a mocking tone, cutting me off.

I looked up, facing a group of five guys, roughly my age, maybe some of them a little older. They were all dressed in orange jumpsuits. And they definitely did not look nice.

"Watch where you're going, snob." The one I had bumped into spat at me. I nodded nervously, practically feeling the sweat starting to form around my hairline. These guys looked so intimidating, they freaked me out.

This one had black messy hair, piercing blue eyes and a cigarette hanging between his lips. He had the top part of his jumpsuit wrapped around his waist, showing off his tattooed arms with his black tank top.

The one that had mocked me was crazy tall. He had brown eyes, tanned skin and wore a snapback. He had tattoos all the way up to his neck. That looked painful.

Then there was a fairly short guy, about my height. He seemed the most normal of all, yet still intimidating. Most of his raven hair covered his face, but it didn't hide the irritated look in his blue-green eyes.

The remaining two behind them looked just as scary as the rest of them. The one on the left had red hair and was wearing what looked like a bunch of red eye shadow. He had a seriously angry look about him.

The other one had brown hair and hazel eyes. He looked a bit indifferent. This one had the most tattoos out of all of them though. I doubted there was much clean skin left underneath that jumpsuit.

(I wonder if y'all can figure out with my bad descriptions who they are?)

The one with the red hair then grinned at me as they all started walking again, passing me without a second look. "Nice cardigan, princess." He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

I felt my cheeks growing a little hot with frustration. They were so rude for no real reason! There was no way that I was going to say anything to them about it though. I may actually fear them a little. Especially the one I ran into. I wasn't used to these types of people... guys with odd hair, facial piercings and an obvious overabundance in tattoos.

Speaking of tattoos...

A tattoo covered hand hung before me, reaching out to me. I let my eyes follow up to the person attached to it. Surprisingly it was one of the guys from the group. The one with the brown hair, hazel eyes and the countless amount of tattoos.

He didn't say a word as he looked at me. Even the look on his face was unreadable, but his gesture told that he wanted to help me up. Did he really, though, or was it just a trick?

Eventually he sighed, raising his eyebrows a little impatiently as he motioned his head to his hand. I got the message though so I put my hand in his. He firmly circled his fingers around it and pulled me up right off the ground.

In seconds I was back on my feet, wiping the probable dirt off the back of my skirt. "Th-thanks." I said quietly, not really sure if it was okay to say anything, but also thinking it was probably rude if I didn't. Either way, I didn't want to aggravate him any further.

As I adjusted my clothes, still feeling a little flustered from the whole encounter, I noticed how the guy kept staring at me silently. And that was totally scary.

"Oli, are you coming or what?" One of the other guys then asked, noticeably already a few feet further down the street.

The guy in front of me, who's name was apparently Oli, didn't say a word as he just stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked off. I watched him for a moment, but quickly turned away when he looked back.

Oh man, way to go Katrina. Walk into the scariest group of people in the city on your first day out here. That's just brilliant.