Status: Inactive.
I'd Do Anything For You
Just As The Bubble Bursts
“Get out now!”
“No,” I clearly said to her face.
My mother’s face, that is. It screwed up. She looked at me and gawped. How dare I say 'no' to her?
But it didn’t matter now. She hated me. She hated me from the moment I was born. She treated me like a piece of shit. My father wasn’t much better, he gave me the odd treat from time to time, yet in front of my mother, he’d be equally as horrible, or worse.
“You’re 16 now, Nova, you can look after yourself...” she shouted at me, spraying my face with light spit. This is one truly disgusting experience you get from arguing with someone to their face.
“Mum, I can’t, I only just finished school, I’m unemployed... I have NO ONE to go to...”
“Go sleep around like you always do, you filthy whore.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. My mother had just called me a whore. I was still a virgin, never had a boyfriend, I wasn’t pretty enough, and I had no friends, well...I had A friend.
His name was Jet. He was my next-door-neighbour, and the only person that actually realised I had feelings. There was only one problem; he was the most popular guy in school. He was friends with the whole school. He stuck up for everyone, literally. But he never had much time to speak to me. He was always at parties or at other people’s houses, never his own.
He was what people called “emo”. Even though everyone had started to fight against the labels, the chavs still called him it.
He had floppy black hair that fell in front of his eyes, big blue eyes, highlighted with black eyeliner which made them stand out. He had clean, clear pale skin. He was just perfect.
Perfect to me.
I snapped out of a dream to see my mother staring at me, and I was staring back. I realised what she’d called me, so I said to her “I hate you” and stormed up to my room.
I moved the mouse of my laptop, and made it so it started playing music. I turned my speakers onto full volume, and suddenly the sound of Brendon Urie’s voice filled the house, making it vibrate slightly.
"Ruining this banquet for the mildly inspiring and..."
But I didn’t care, this wasn’t my home anymore.
I looked round my room and took my school bag and packed it with clean clothes, a sketch book and a pencil case with ink pens and colouring pencils, my iPod, my phone and my purse. I put them in carefully as to fit it all in at once. I took one last look around and spotted my laptop, oh, how could I forget that?
I unplugged the speakers, and the whole house went silent. i quickly stuffed it into my bag with the rest of my treasures and I whispered:
“Good bye old room. Good bye old house...” and I left.
I walked past my mother, past my father and out the door.
It was a cold night, and as I stepped out the door, and as the air hit my face, I realised I had to go somewhere, or I’d die. Die a lovely painful death.
I started down the garden path that led towards the road, stamping heavily as I was still angry from the argument. The path was slightly slippery so I reached out and grabbed the wall before I fell.
I sighed heavily and carried on, slamming my feet into the ground. I stepped on a twig and it shattered, but then...
“Nova! Novacaine! Hey...” someone behind me was shouting.
And it was him.
It was Jet.
“No,” I clearly said to her face.
My mother’s face, that is. It screwed up. She looked at me and gawped. How dare I say 'no' to her?
But it didn’t matter now. She hated me. She hated me from the moment I was born. She treated me like a piece of shit. My father wasn’t much better, he gave me the odd treat from time to time, yet in front of my mother, he’d be equally as horrible, or worse.
“You’re 16 now, Nova, you can look after yourself...” she shouted at me, spraying my face with light spit. This is one truly disgusting experience you get from arguing with someone to their face.
“Mum, I can’t, I only just finished school, I’m unemployed... I have NO ONE to go to...”
“Go sleep around like you always do, you filthy whore.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. My mother had just called me a whore. I was still a virgin, never had a boyfriend, I wasn’t pretty enough, and I had no friends, well...I had A friend.
His name was Jet. He was my next-door-neighbour, and the only person that actually realised I had feelings. There was only one problem; he was the most popular guy in school. He was friends with the whole school. He stuck up for everyone, literally. But he never had much time to speak to me. He was always at parties or at other people’s houses, never his own.
He was what people called “emo”. Even though everyone had started to fight against the labels, the chavs still called him it.
He had floppy black hair that fell in front of his eyes, big blue eyes, highlighted with black eyeliner which made them stand out. He had clean, clear pale skin. He was just perfect.
Perfect to me.
I snapped out of a dream to see my mother staring at me, and I was staring back. I realised what she’d called me, so I said to her “I hate you” and stormed up to my room.
I moved the mouse of my laptop, and made it so it started playing music. I turned my speakers onto full volume, and suddenly the sound of Brendon Urie’s voice filled the house, making it vibrate slightly.
"Ruining this banquet for the mildly inspiring and..."
But I didn’t care, this wasn’t my home anymore.
I looked round my room and took my school bag and packed it with clean clothes, a sketch book and a pencil case with ink pens and colouring pencils, my iPod, my phone and my purse. I put them in carefully as to fit it all in at once. I took one last look around and spotted my laptop, oh, how could I forget that?
I unplugged the speakers, and the whole house went silent. i quickly stuffed it into my bag with the rest of my treasures and I whispered:
“Good bye old room. Good bye old house...” and I left.
I walked past my mother, past my father and out the door.
It was a cold night, and as I stepped out the door, and as the air hit my face, I realised I had to go somewhere, or I’d die. Die a lovely painful death.
I started down the garden path that led towards the road, stamping heavily as I was still angry from the argument. The path was slightly slippery so I reached out and grabbed the wall before I fell.
I sighed heavily and carried on, slamming my feet into the ground. I stepped on a twig and it shattered, but then...
“Nova! Novacaine! Hey...” someone behind me was shouting.
And it was him.
It was Jet.