Now, I'm sure most of you would think that a high-speed car chase going down a busy city street at eight o'clock at night while your mates (the friend kind, not werewolves) follow after you in cars as they wear Halloween costumes, is fun.
Well, when you're actually following a swarm of gang members and a backstabbing, lying, crooked copper, it's no longer as fun.
Especially when the man who killed your mum is behind it all.
And when one of your lads is shouting from the passenger window, "I ALWAYS KNEW YOU WERE DIRTY, SANSON. YOU SON OF A BITCH. I'M GOING TO SHOVE YOUR BADGE SO FAR UP-"
...
Yeah...Oddly specific, I'm aware. But if you have any hope of understanding that...scenario...then keep listening because I assure you, it only gets worse from there.
~•~
TWO MONTHS AGO:
Picture this: it's a Monday morning, your body is heavy from lack of sleep, and you're currently in the middle of a bizarre dream about tap-dancing cats. Then, all of a sudden...
BAM.
You're awoken by the sound of loud, punk rock drums and electric guitar.
If you can imagine that, congrats! You know exactly how I woke up on the worst day of the week, not to mention the most draining week I had experienced in a long time.
To give you a better perspective, the song being blasted at full volume that Monday was Greenlight by 5 Seconds of Summer, one of my favorite bands. I can't say that I was mad though, considering the guitar riff was sick.
However, the lyrics weren't as savory:
'Give me the greenlight
We could have all night
if you just say the words'
Yep. I want to hear about a teenage boy wanting to bang some chick at five in the morning. It's my favorite way to pass the time.
Now, like any normal, sane, human being, my first thought as I was jolted awake by pop punk at the butt-ass crack of dawn, was, and I quote, 'Bloody fucking hell-'
My brows scrunched together as I flinched my body as far away from the noise as possible. The noise left me disoriented as I forced my eyes to stay closed.
"What the fu-" I croaked, my voice breaking at the lack of speech. My tone was gravely, even to my own ears.
I wrenched my eyes open in order to look at my apparent fuzzy clock on my bedside table and to my dismay, the time read 5:45 in a bright neon red font. I groaned and plopped my head back on my pillow as I realized that it was a school day. I had to resist the urge to throw my blankets back over my face.
'Yes. Who needs sleep anymore?' I sarcastically thought to myself as I slowly tossed my covers off of my legs.
"I just want to stay in bed. Is that too much to ask for?" I muttered grouchily, trying to pry my eyes open once more.
After barely reopening my eyes, I sluggishly sat up like a mummy arising from its slumber. As my brain continued to slowly wake itself up, I heard a sharp, bright bark, alerting me to the fact that I wasn't alone. I looked to the foot of my bed to see my two-year-old German Shepherd, Cooper, smiling widely at me. My mood lifted instantaneously when my eyes met my best mate's, his smile infectious as all hell.
'The little arse always wants food the minute I wake up.' I thought with a smile tugging on my lips, amused by his innocent little face.
I yawned slightly, tears prickling my eyes as I playfully glared at him and remarked, "Yeah, well that innocent act doesn't work on me anymore since the day you barked in my ear at four in the morning, you little bugger."
I then snorted when I realized I was scolding a dog.
"I swear I'm starting to go mental." I mumbled to no one in particular as I threw the covers off and weakly stood up. Then, I hobbled slowly to the bathroom, avoiding running into the piano that my mum gifted to me before I was born.
I opened my bathroom, took a piss, and without looking at myself, I washed my face. In that particular order.
After washing off the previous night's oils and gunk, I took in my appearance. And holy fuck did I look like death.
My freckles were no longer in full bloom since it was beginning to be wintertime, and my pin-straight black hair was in a tangled mop on top of my head due to my stupid arse falling asleep with it went. On top of that, there were lovely bags under my eyes from the night terror from that night which woke me up at twelve o'clock in the morning.
Fun times.
And as usual, my grey eyes were dull and lifeless.
'That's a surprise to no one.'
My heart then constricted out of the blue and I clutched at my chest, my eyes shutting at the unexpected pain. I searched through my brain to understand why my body was retaliating like that.
Then, the realization struck me like a kick to the nuts, my stomach churning as if it were muscle memory. And in a way, it was.
My eyebrows pinched together as I let out a raspy, "Fuck," and then hung my head over my bathroom sink tiredly.
Every single year since I was thirteen there was always one day that made me want to quite literally die. Usually, I was greeted with a panic attack at seven in the morning, a mental breakdown into a puddle of tears by twelve o'clock for lunch, and then the rest of the afternoon would be spent trying not to cry until I passed out.
Now, I know that we just met, but you should know that the way I process shit is that I repress it.
Is it unhealthy? Fuck yeah, it is. But not crying and trying to push those emotions away makes me feel better.
I call it compartmentalization. Others call it toxic.
Do with that information what you will.
But on that Monday morning, I was too exhausted to cry and too sluggish to melt into a puddle of misery. So I just got my shit together by sighing at my reflection as my heart ached in my chest like someone was trying to crush it within my rib cage.
With a deep, resigned sigh, I silently thought to myself, 'Let's just get this day over with.'
I shook my head of my melancholic thoughts and after washing up, I went back into my room and put on my usual outfit which consists of my dad's Stanford hoodie, grey sweatpants, and my black low-top Converse.
Thank God my school doesn't require uniforms because I cannot pull off khaki pants. I've tried, I looked stupid as fuck. Just take my word for it.
After finishing up with my laces, I quickly remembered something and turned to my desk to see my mum's grey beanie that she gave to me that had her initials monogrammed on it.
'Blast. I almost forgot.' I sighed tiredly and shook my head at my unusual forgetfulness. 'How could I ever forget this?'
I paused my thoughts and let out an audible groan when it hit me.
'This is a sign that this is going to be a horrid day and I should stay home. God, give me another sign if I should stay home.'
'...'
'Please?'
After waiting for legitimately five minutes, standing around like an utter twat in anticipation of a sign, I gave up.
"Well, I was going to go to school anyway, but a sign not to would have been nice." I grumbled to myself as I sighed, already mentally done with the day.
Instead of crawling back into bed to get some needed sleep, I forced myself to grab my phone and go down the stairs with Coop following close behind. On the way to the kitchen, I opened Spotify and The Score started playing from the Echo Dot in our living room.
I smiled softly as I remembered the fond times when this was my mum's favorite band. Whenever they would come on, she and I would sing along and dance around the room like maniacs.
'Good times.'
With a sad sigh, the ache in my heart only increased and the tears continued to build up. However, I shook it off like the bad bitch that I am and fed Coop like the responsible dog mom that I am. Then, I put a small saucepan on the stove and started heating a cup of milk for some hot cocoa, singing along to The Fear.
When I made an effort to get three cups out of the cabinet, I stopped myself short and only grabbed my silver mug. I had to remind myself that my grandparents were on a business trip until the end of the month so that I didn't make too much cocoa. Though, let's be real.
You can never have too much cocoa.
And don't get me wrong. I love my nan and grandad; they've done so much for me in the past. But I have to be honest you.
I love having the house to myself just a little bit more. I'm sorry, but that's the truth! Don't tell them that, though. My grandad would be tempted to pull a silly prank in retaliation, like covering my floor in bubble wrap.
He's just that conniving.
Anyways, I absentmindedly continued to sing along to the song, stirring in the cocoa powder as the lyrics started to register in my brain:
' I've battled hard with the face in the mirror
Every scar makes me dig down deeper
I push it 'til there's nothing more
'Cause I'm stronger then I was before '
'It's too early in the morning for deep music.' I thought tiredly to myself as I let out another sigh.'Blimey, I'm going to need something stronger than hot cocoa.' I mused, considering reaching for my nan's brandy. But I decided that if I were to drink this early in the morning, I would end up in jail by noon.
As much as I hate to admit it, I'm a lightweight at heart. Though I hide it when possible.
That's an instance where Scar, my good friend, and I differ; she has a literal immunity to alcohol and is incapable of getting drunk. I, however, get knocked on my ass after half a can of beer.
That's the main reason why I don't drink. You never know who might be waiting for you to get yourself wasted in order to take advantage of you.
STREET SMARTS!
Gotta throw those assholes off their rhythm.
As I continued to break it down on the dance floor that was my kitchen floor, I noticed sunlight started to pour in through the window above the kitchen sink. I grimaced at the intensity of the light and stepped closer to see the radiant gleam shine through the trees in my backyard.
I grew suspicious of how light it was so I quickly glanced at the oven's clock which read 7:40 in a neon green hue. My eyes widened at how much time had passed as I was grooving to my music and my heart started to palpate at the knowledge that I was going to be late as fuck if I didn't get my arse into gear.
"Son of a bitch." I grumbled grouchily, sprinting my ass over to the couch in the living to grab my army green backpack. With it slung over my right shoulder, I bent down to Coop's level and gave him a small kiss on his snout. He returned it with a small lick, causing a small giggle to leave my lips.
"Thanks, mate." I continued, my voice soft as a small smile graced my face. I felt my heart lighten, optimism unexpectedly striking a thin chord in my heart, something I hadn't felt since I was a small girl.
With another kiss on Cooper's nose, I swiped my keys off of the bar and made sure to lock the door behind me as I left for hell. Oops, pardon me-school.
And so, with my music blasting from my earbuds at volume ninety-one and my stomach warm with cocoa, I started the seven minute walk to school.
It was a chilly October morning and my dad's sweatshirt kept me warm and toasty, as did the memories. While my mom's memories made me sad to think about, my dad's and my memories made me feel content and at peace.
I have no regrets when it comes to my dad.
And, as much as I love warmth and to be cozy and swaddled in a fuzzy blanket with toasty socks on, I also relish in chilly, crisp air. I lived in England for awhile and moderate weather was a rare gift from nature that usually entailed London being a nightmare for a bit.
As I continued to leisurely stroll down Vineyard street, I hummed along to I'll Sleep When I'm Dead by Set It Off, trying not to get lost in the dark void that is my mind. I kicked a small pebble further down the street before lifting my head to see a fake skeleton smack-dab in the middle of someone's front yard.
'What the fuck?'
I squinted my eyes to get a better look at the damn thing and then cracked a small grin when I saw even more Halloween decorations in front of Ms. Dane's white, Victorian mansion. The old crone is loaded as fuck from the death of her husband.
But I'll spare you my conspiracy theories.
The cheerful, yet disturbing sight, provided a sense of comfort since it meant that my favorite holiday was almost upon us. However, my decent mood was then destroyed, and as I neared the school, I pulled my beanie further up over my face and looked straight ahead, not sparing a glance at anyone.
Yeah, I stick to myself. So?
I have a large disdain for people who have an IQ the size of their GPA and who find enjoyment from gossiping about their friends behind their backs.
People are gross excuses for human beings and they can shove their opinions up their own arses.
I never claimed to like people, though. That's Scar.
Anywho, as I walked in the double doors of my school, I was accosted by noise.
So. Much Noise.
My senses were sent into overdrive as I tried to absorb everything: the sterile lights from the ceiling, the echoing yelling and hollering of teenagers, the smell of disgusting B.O. and Axe body spray. Everything gave me a headache the minute I breached the gates of hell.
I kept my eyes relaxed and facing forward as I forced my body to walk down the corridor. I took one earbud out in case a teacher tried to get my attention and I regretted that decision immediately.
The first thing I heard was, "I heard they're, like, Seniors or Juniors and look like Chris Hemsworth. Imagine dating a Hemsworth!"
'Lord almighty. Someone had too much coffee this morning.'
The high-pitched, obnoxiously happy voice came from a group of Freshman by their lockers, all wearing Lululemon merchandise and Air-Force 1s. The four girls were essentially copy-pasted copies of each other, just different fonts. Mate, their hair was the exact same fucking shade of bleach-blond bullshit.
I rolled my eyes at their ignorant remark, musing to myself, 'Not bloody likely.'
"I heard they're...like...part of a gang." One of the girls piped up, her green eyes wide and ecstatic. The second the word 'gang' left the blond's lipgloss-coated lips, I felt my soul leave my body. My body stiffened as a lump in my throat formed instantly, my mouth going dry.
Something these twits said actually piqued my interest for once. Who knew it was possible? However, this wasn't ideal.
'There's no fucking way-'
"I heard one was dating Madison Beer." A third Freshmen twittered back, swinging her pink acrylic nails in the air like she was trying to land a fucking plane.
'Good God. Put the weapons away, lady.'
A snort left my nose of its own volition and I fought to keep it as silent as I could, not wanting to anger the bitch with knives. I shook my head silently at their naivety and kept walking down the hall, random signs for the Halloween dance covering the walls as if taunting me because I didn't have anyone to go with.
(FoReShaDoWinG.)
'Yeah. Fuck dances.'
With a short sigh, I approached my locker with sluggish footsteps; the urge to slide down the metal and melt into a puddle of human tears was increasing more by the minute. But, I mentally smacked myself in the face to get my head into gear.
Before I got to my locker to open it and grab my Chemistry textbook, I heard loud footsteps approaching me from behind and the hairs on my arms stood up out of instinct.
'What now?' I wondered grouchily, my eyebrows furrowed exasperatedly.
It's safe to say that I was not in the bloody mood for people, especially not people who want to pull some kind of practical joke or something. My jaw clenched as I sensed someone reach out towards my back and it took all the restraint in my 5'5 body to not dropkick the morons behind me.
When I realized they wanted my attention, I let out an exasperated sigh as I halted in place and prepared myself for a fight.
'I swear to God if someone touches me-'
My tone was icy and harsh as I gritted out, "Don't. Touch. The. Hood." Each word was emphasized with an intentional pause, giving the people behind me a chance to make a run for it before I put them on their arse. I used every fiber of my being to refrain from rolling my eyes as I continued to say, "Can I help you?"
I then slowly spun around to find three teenage guys looking at me, all of them wearing happy expressions. Too happy of expressions for seven-fifty in the morning.
'It's too early for this fucking shite.'
I kept my expression neutral as I gave each of the three a quick once over, realizing I didn't recognize any of them in the slightest.
'These twats must be the guys everyone was gossiping about.' I surmised, still intent on kicking their arses if need be.
My gaze was drawn to the middle tallest boy of the three who was smirking down at me with a cocky glint in his light blue eyes that made me narrow my eyes in suspicion.
'I don't even know him and I can already tell he's a fucking arse.'
"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today." The boy joked, his voice smooth and charismatic that could easily have any Freshmen in love. He then smirked even more, flashing his white teeth, when he saw me slowly arch an unamused brow.
'This little shite thinks he's a comedian, huh?'
I bit my inner right cheek at the cockiness emanating off of him.
I noted that his blond hair wasn't brushed and he wore an outfit that reminded me of some stereotypical skater boy; black jeans with a plain black shirt and an obnoxiously large chain.
'Classic prick. Got it.'
I then wondered how cocky this kid would be when I punch that smirk right off of his arrogant, jackass face.
'Oh, I'll show you the wrong side of the bed, you son of a-'
"Sorry. I don't do well with people." I stated flatly with a blank, bored expression. My accent was thick as I continued, "Especially arrogant dickwads that think they can touch me without asking for permission." The stunned look on the moron's face was priceless as it sunk in that I wasn't melting into a puddle of hormones. His arrogance rolled off of me like...oh I can't say that. Scratch that.
This is a family channel, I swear.
Um, ignoring that, let's just leave it at the fact that I wasn't bothered whatsoever by this lad's overly cocky attitude. Prats like him are a dime a dozen, I swear.
Before the arsehole could open his fat mouth again, another boy interjected, "I'm sorry for my cousin's incompetence." Out of the corner of my eye, to the left of the jackass, I saw the tallest boy out of the three speak, drawing my gaze to him.
"We drove sixteen hours straight yesterday in a cramped van with two overly-hyper Great Danes and a four-year-old. Suffice to say, he doesn't have many brain cells left." He continued cordially, trying to lighten the mood and situation, but I wasn't buying it.
As he went on his little monologue, I gave him the once over, unimpressed by his appearance. The kid was dressed in a graphic tee, a cliche fucking leather jacket, and hightop black converse.
Fucking shoot me, mate.
He was literally fucking Hardin Scott in the flesh, just buffer. Tall, Dark, and Blah had dark, black hair and a charming smile that some would even go so far as to call a million-dollar smile.
I, however, didn't give a fuck.
Sure, the lad was hot. Even I could swallow my pride and admit that. But, to let you in on a little secret, I saw dozens of people who looked exactly like him in New York when I got off of my flight from England years prior.
'Been there, done that. Moving on.'
Now, the only curious things about him were as follows:
One: his nose appeared to have been broken repeatedly given how crooked it was.
Two: he had a scar above his eyebrow that was decently prominent.
And three: his accent was thick with Southern charm which was extremely out of place given that we live up north.
'Aw, a little Southern hill-billy.'
I slowly arched a brow, a small smile tugging on the corners of my lips. "You're saying he isn't normally like this?" I questioned with more attitude than I thought I could summon in that moment, and the minute those words left my mouth, I immediately regretted it.
Gasps, all tones and genders, reverberated off of the stone walls and I refrained from letting out an audible exasperated sigh.
'Can't people just bugger off and mind their own fucking business?'
Okay, yes. Seeing me talking to people is rare. Especially seeing me talking to three guys who look like knockoff Hemsworths.
Yes.
Knockoffs.
I said what I said.
Now, the guy next to Mr. Blah and the No Brain Cells kid chuckled, seeming to find amusement in the situation and felt my eyes narrow of their own accord. I switched my gaze from Tweedle Dumb and Tweedle Dumber to look at my new victim, ready to tear the lad apart.
When my sharp gaze landed on him, I took in his appearance, noting his messy, dirty blond hair and emerald green eyes. His outfit consisted of jeans and a vintage letter-man jacket with several rings which gave him a chill vibe.
However, since I'm judgmental as fuck, I assumed he'd be cocky as hell so I wrote him off as a frat dude. Can you blame me, though?
'Of course. Why would I expect anything different from a teenage boy who looks like a wannabe TikTok star?'
"I like you." He declared with a grin, causing the urge to roll my eyes all the more unbearable to withstand.
But let me just say this; when I say that the first thing I noticed was his teeth, I'm not kidding.
The urge to wince was strong. 'Holy fuck, this kid's teeth are so white. Good God.'
Mate, his teeth looked like they came out of a fucking Crest White Strips commercial. I kid you not.
'No wonder those buggers are banned in the UK. They make your teeth look radioactively white.'
I then mentally shook my head when the image of glow-in-the-dark teeth popped into my mind and cursed my overactive imagination.
My eyes remained narrow as I gave the lad a flat look in response, not falling for his bullshit. I didn't miss a beat as I replied, "Wish I could say the same for you."
I think it's safe to say my tone expressed just how bored I was in this conversation.
However, taking no offense to my response, even though it wasn't directed towards him, No Brain Cells laughed at my remark and clapped the kid on the back. "Yikes, bro. She got you there." He told him with a shit-eating grin on his face.
'What are we in? Primary school?'
As No Brain Cells laughed, the guy I dubbed Soft Boy because he, for some reason, reminded me of a golden retriever, (the one with green eyes), glared at him.
'Is it just me, or do they kind of look related?' The sudden and unwarranted thought popped into my head and once it had, I couldn't shake it.
I tilted my head to the side with curiosity, but before I could ask them anything, Mr. Blah beat me to it.
Mr. Blah had chuckled at the pair and turned to look at me with a warm grin on his face that immediately made me tense up in suspicion. "Can you help us? We're new and these knuckleheads need help getting to their classes." He explained smoothly, his voice velvety and calming, and I raised my eyebrow even higher.
'Does anything about me make him think I'd want to help these guys to their classroom?' I wondered, amazed by this guy's lack of noticing people's social cues.
I shook my head at him in near disbelief.
I subtly looked around, desperately trying to find an out of this boring and droll conversation. And I did. In the form of Ellen Bitri, or as half of the school has dubbed her, Bitri the Bitch. Unfortunately, I can't take credit for the stellar, phenomenal nickname. However, I enjoy using it nonetheless.
"Why don't you ask her?" I suggested airily and pointed my thumb in Elle's direction who was standing next to her locker by a sign for the dance. The bitch had been scowling at me the entire time I was talking to these guys, which isn't an unnatural thing for her to do considering she's hated me since I started school.
That is, she had been scowling until the guys looked at her. When she noticed this, she bit her lip and winked.
Or her eye twitched. I couldn't really tell with the gloppy mascara she wore.
'Did she even look at herself in the mirror before she left her house? Because if so, I fear she's even more unstable than I originally knew.'
I refrained from rolling my eyes at her as I ran a hand through my knotty, tangled hair. "I'm sure she would be all too happy to show you anywhere." I added, my voice leaking out my sarcasm.
'Can you smell the desperation? It's like cut grass, crying out for help in the form of the odor it emits.'
The sad thing is that she is naturally beautiful. You know, under all the foundation that's a shade too light and mascara so thick, it could be mistaken for frosting.
She's a natural brunette, but she's been dying it since Freshmen year in addition to wearing makeup religiously. I always assumed she dyed it to draw more attention to herself, but the more I think about it, the more I realize she had...different motives.
Anyway, as I looked at her more closely, there seemed to be something forced about the way she was 'flirting' and it made me pause. Her whole body seemed tense and she only made an effort to be 'sexy' when the guys focused their attention on her.
And when I noticed her.
'When I think about it,' I started to muse as my eyes narrowed at the floor, 'Elle never really makes a move to flirt with any of the guys here. Or anyone for that matter. She only does it when there's a crowd around.'
I shrugged this thought off when I saw the three guys shudder and face me again.
"No offense, but it looks like if I put her face near a candle, it would melt off." No Brain Cells shuddered dramatically and both Soft Boy and Mr. Blah let out chuckles of laughter.
And all of a sudden, out of their own volition, the corner of my lips tugged as if they were trying to form a smile. For the first time in for-fucking-ever.
Cue the Frozen soundtrack.
'Okay, that was kind of funny.'
"Well I'm sorry mate, but I can't help you." I replied coolly, deciding to just end this little rapport right then and there, and started to walk away. But I turned back around when a thought occurred to me.
'I've always wanted to say something badass like this. What better time then now?'
"Oi! Want some advice?" I asked loud enough for them to hear, my eyebrow still raised. The trio nodded in unison, looking like some fucked up Three Stooges.
"Stay away from people like me if you want to survive this year." I told them cryptically, then pulled my hood back over my head (quite badass I must say) and disappeared in the crowd without so much as a goodbye.
While I walked away swiftly, I heard them calling for me, using the term, and I quote, "British Brunette."
I'm just...I'm speechless at their creativity.
As I said, the guys tried to call for me, but I had slipped behind a wall and out of their sight. Luckily for me, I knew something they didn't.
I'm used to disappearing. And not being found.
...
DUN DUN DUN.