Gunpowder and Satin ; BW

1.1

y/n's POV:

"I said, ooh, I'm blinded by the lights. No, I can't sleep until I feel your touch." I sang quietly to myself under my breath, my leg bouncing up and down on the squeaky floorboards, my fingers clicking the mouse button every so often as I continued to edit this photo.

"I said, ooh, I'm drowning in the-"

"Y/n hurry up or you'll be late for school!" My mother pounded on the door, my body tensing up.

"Yeah, one second!" I yelled back. I took my headphones out of my ears, swinging the cord around the back of my neck while I quickly saved my progress.

"Y/n!" My mother yelled again. I huffed, shoving the essentials in my backpack and rushing out of my room.

"Good morning, ma." I leaned over and kissed her cheek lightly, opening the fridge to grab the jug of orange juice.

"Morning." My mother grinned flipping over the pancake cooking in the pan.

"And look who's still alive. Shocker." I mumbled under my breath seeing my poor excuse of a step dad waltz into the kitchen, clearly hungover.

"Y/n!" My mother hissed.

"Watch it, kid." The pudgy man snapped plopping down into the faded yellow dining chair he had, "Anna, grab me a beer."

My eyes glanced over at my mother, following her movements as she grabbed the cold bud light from the top shelf of the fridge, cracking it open for him and setting it in front of him.

Hank smiled, showing off his crooked yellow teeth, a few gaps here and there. He grabbed his beer in one hand, then proceeded to grope my mother's behind in the other.

"Oh come on, man! Really?! This is a kitchen! And that's my mother!" I slammed my empty cup down on the table, feeling the irritation ignite.

"My house, my rules, my woman." Hank replied cockily, downing another gulp of alcohol.

My mother stood stiffly next to the man she called a husband, and my blood boiled.

"Get your hands off of my mother you bald headed freak!" I hissed.

The legs of the chair he was sitting on scraped backwards, my mother stumbling out of the way from the force of it all. Hank stalked towards me, gripping my cheeks between his meaty fingers that smelled like stale Doritos and belly button lint.

"This is my house, you're lucky I don't dump your ass out on the street where you belong. Maybe hold up a sign that says your father left you when you were three and see how many people give you money. I'm giving you a free ride here. Respect it." He spat in my face, pushing my head back into the wall before grabbing his beer and leaving.

I glared daggers are his back before he was out of my sight, rubbing my jaw from where his meaty fingers bruised into my skin.

"Why do you stay with him? He smells like a sewer, is a disrespectful pig and can't even hold a job! Why do you continue to stay with him?!" I snapped at my mother who plated the pancakes.

"You're eighteen in a month. Move out then if you don't like it." My mother sighed heavily. A frown pulled down my lips while I sighed quietly, knowing this day was going to be mentally taxing.

"Dad wouldn't have treated you like this." I mumbled.

"You're going to be late." My mother replied hoarsely. I scoffed, grabbing my bag and heading towards the door. I shoved the headphones back in my ear, turning the volume up to full max. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I picked at the skin around the nails of my thumbs.