Black And Blue [Slowly Editing]

Chapter 2

Oliver

"It would be nice to know your name, since we are walking together, you know?"

She let out a soft chuckle before answering me. "My name's Thalia Matthews, and you?" Though this is a regular conversation, I couldn't help but admire her eyes. "Oh! Uh, yeah. My name's Oliver, Oliver Scott Sykes." Ignore me, I'm an idiot, my conscience whispered.

"Well Oliver, thank you for walking me home," she said, pausing on the driveway of a grey two story house. I flashed a smile, "no problem love." I watched her walk up to her house, before she paused and turned around. "I'm weird, okay? But, can I have your number?" she asked. "Why," I teased. "Cause I would like to have the number of the person who just walked me home," she said, flashy a grin.

"Touchè."

"Do you have a paper and pen?" I asked. "Nope, just a pen and my hand." She gave me a black ink pen and held out her hand. "Okay, I'll text you later," she says.

I watched her leave and sighed. Why would a pretty girl like her, like such a loser like me? She probably doesn't even like me, she's just trying not to be rude. She could could be gagging behind those walls.

Just shut up and stop being so negative.

I walked home dwelling on my thoughts. Maybe if we became friends, we could like each other more.

Yeah, cause you just want to be friends.

The bad side of talking to yourself is that you don't even agree with that other half, and it's you!

I sighed and directed my thoughts towards my band. It's only a few weeks until we release our EP, This Is What The Edge Of Your Seat Was Made For. I'm really proud of the guys for the effort they're submitting.

Maybe Thalia would like it.

I wanted to bash my head against the wall. I barely met her, why should I care about her? She was probably another 'fan' trying to get in my pants.

Maybe if I got to know her better, I won't feel like this. Looks can be deceiving.

I sighed and walked up to my porch, unlocking the door. The smell of alcohol hit my nose. It has now become like a daily smell, like when you breath the aroma of fresh cut grass, that's normal right? Yeah, but placing the odor of beer into the category normal makes me sound crazy. Everything looked fine: normal. That's only if you look passed the broken wedding picture of my parents, the table that was flipped over, and the shouting.

Broken beer bottles scattered the floor. I walked towards the kitchen, where the shouting was most loud. The noise bounced off of every wall. My mum was huddled into herself while my drunk father scolded her about god knows what. I paused.

My father turned towards me, nostrils flared. "NOW WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?" he shouted. Should I tell him? Would it infuriat him more? "Why do you care?" I asked. He nodded. "Why do I care huh? Actually, why should I care? YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A PATHETIC EXCUSE OF A SON! YOU'RE NEVER GOING TO MAKE ANYONE PROUD!"

"And you're nothing but a pathetic excuse of a dad," I mumbled. His head shot up. He walked over to me, his breath hitting my face."What did you say?" he snarled. "I didn't say anything," I spat. He grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and smashed my back up against the wall. I groaned in pain. "I said go to your fucking room," he commanded through gritted teeth.

I got and walked towards my room, feeling like such a coward. Maybe he is right. Maybe it is time to let go.

Thalia

I entered my house, taking out my M n M's, and dropping my backpack on a chair. I walked towards the refrigerator and got a water bottle. When I closed the refrigerator door, there was a note by my mom.

Hey sweetie, I'm going to be coming from work late again. Dinner is in the fridge. The money for your new 'accessories' are in the box. Have a nice day :)

Love,
Mom

I have been so distracted, I never put into thought where I was going to get money. I went up stairs to change my school clothes. I took out some shorts and a plain white T-shirt from my drawer and put them on. I brushed my hair and tied it up in a ponytail.

I went inside our bathroom and took out the First Aid Kit. The reason my mom places things in odd places is because last time we got robbed and she says we should hide our things better. Obviously they'd still try to find things, but we could call the police before they have time to get away. And we have like 4 kits, so I know which one she's talking about.

I knew of a place where I didn't have to get my parents permission to get a tattoo or piercing. Well I did get her permission, but my mom isn't here so if I walked into a different place, they wouldn't believe me.

I locked the house and walked while eating my M n M's. I was thinking of what to inked on my skin.

I could already feel the pain, I shuddered. I was a chicken somtimes, and I'm not afraid to admit that.

The smell of alcohol hit my nose. I looked at the house where the scent was most strong. Hmph, an alcoholic's home, but I'm not going to shame him or her. I shrugged and continued walking. My mind sailed to the sea of memories I had of my father.

He was a nice man. He was arrested when I was 13, I didn't know what to think of him at the time. Until months I realized he stole money, but what was I going to do about it? I never visited him, I didn't want to, for I knew I would be a crying mess. He missed 5 years of my life, and come to think of it, so did my mom, she was always working, she was in debt, trying to get my father out.

I pushed my thoughts aside I took a deep breath. The past is just my sick escape of the future, but I have built a door to walk on into my present.

***THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN UPDATED FROM ITS ORIGINAL VERSION***

So I'm still waiting on that 1k!
Also, shy_fan2003 and I are doing a book collab, so if you wanna read a Ben Bruce Fanfiction, check it out if you want, we're barely on the second chapter.