Fly Away: TMNT FanFic

Chapter 1- Like A Rock Star

Chapter 1

Like A Rock Star

.

Okay, so I have two loving parents, a roof over my head, all the food and shit I could ever and never need, the best tutor money (and flirting *cough* mum *cough*) could get, a weekly wage considered 'outrageous' by others, an adorable three year old little bro who loves and looks up to me, a weird and unique super cute pet stoat (if you dot know what that is, look it up, it's freakin adorable) , a whole Posse whom considers me a leader and, dare I say, goddess *shivers*. You'd think I'd be happy, right? Well, I've got one word for ya mister.

WRONG!

I have everything, and yet I have nothing. Hardly see my parents. My 'friends' are only there for the school status and occasional shopping trips and parties. I know, I know. You must be thinking this is so cliche! Neglect ice parents, fake friends.

Don't get me wrong, my parents are lovely caring people and would do anything in the world to provide for me. Unfortunately that gets in the way of them actually seeing their daughter grow up. Too caught up in their work I find myself home alone most, or all of the time more often then not, taking care of my younger sibling who now refers to me as mum. And that leaves a lot of room to think. To realise I'm just a figure head at school, being used to gain popularity. And sometimes really cute shoes. My mum has a tendency to always buy me heals. Mum, I love ya but no. Just no. So I end up giving most of them away. Back on topic.

I know brooding is considered mentally unhealthy, but meh. There's nothing much to do here. I came to a realisation, an epiphany, if you will, that I was never being me. The girl that strutted through those halls, adorned in rich bitch clothes flanked by her Posse tittering along in dainty heals was not me. It was them.

I hated heals, I hated dresses, I hated the colour pink. Heck, I hated my boyfriend. I was being moulded into who they wanted to be. Their idea of perfect. Their idea of popular. Their idea of a daughter. I was being controlled this whole time. And I let them. Because I feared being rejected, I let them decide for me, let them create me. I wasn't even my own person.

And people wonder why I went dark so suddenly. One minute I'm all 'ooh! I love my life! La la la!' and then, BAM! 'Fuck it! Demonic bitch is coming out!' then go all emo on your ass.

So what do I do about this sudden new outlook on my life? I change. Everything.

One night when my parents weren't around, shocker, and left me to take care of my bro, I throw all my bright prissy clothes in a bag and shove it down the stairs, feeling satisfaction watching it barrel down and thump against the front door. I leave only the things I like in my draws, being a deep red long sleeved shirt, a black singlet, tights, shorts -denim and what not- and a leather hooded jacket and grey beanie. That's it. No joke.

Kyan, my little brother, followed the noise to my room and crawled up onto my bed as I worked, watching my every move with curious eyes.

Sneering, I teer all the photos of me and my 'friends' off the walls and mirrors, smirking in seeing a few -okay all- rip at my aggressive action. With that done, I plan to burn them, or drop them down the sewers, so they'd finally be in their natural environment.

Turning around I came to my shoe closet. Without even needing to think, I've already stuffed a large portion of colourful flats and heels into bags, tossing them out my door in a heap to roll down the stairs making Kyan giggle. After my little throwing episode I'm left with a pair of sneakers, thongs -or flip flops for those of you who call em that- black flats and my boots. If their is type of shoe I like, it's mah boots. One pair goes up to just below my knee, at the bottom they look like work boots but have buckles wrapped around the ankle and upper calf. My others are my babies. My beloved combat boots. I would never ever EVER think about throwing them out.