Status: I Want Sprinkles On That Shit

Don't Try to Save Me


Moving to the middle of fucking nowhere in the sweltering summer heat wasn't particularly fun. 

Endless golden, swaying hazy fields lined the tiny, poor excuse of a road that we drove down. Linda's expression was unreadable from behind her big, bug eye Prada sunglasses, but she was catching her lip between her teeth, showing she was uneasy. 

Her fingers were rapping against the wheel, wispy, fly away strands of chocolate coloured hair flying around her pale skin as the breeze gusted in from the open window. 

I just sigh and run a hand through my own messy mop of chocolate brown hair and pull my knees up to my chest, watching the car eat the road up beneath us. Linda gives me a look, but doesn't say anything about my dirty sneakers ruining the cream leather of her expensive Mercedes. 

Most people think it's weird and pretty damn disrespectful that I call my own mother Linda, but it's never been any other way. She's always just been Linda for as long as I can remember. Maybe when I was a toddler I used to call her something other than her name, but she's always insisted on being called Linda. 

Don't call me Mom, Frank. I don't call you son every time I speak to you, so why should you have to call me anything other than Linda? 

Linda wasn't like most mothers, and I loved her for that. I could never have been able to cope with your average stay at home mom. I wouldn't have been able to deal with married parents and one or two siblings, a nice suburban home and a pet dog.

Linda got pregnant way too young, didn't abort me and here I am. The only child of a single woman who travelled around the world every week to make a living. We'd always lived in big cities. L.A, New York, Chicago, Miami, Vegas... I got used to having to move around every few years or so and it didn't phase me. 

We moved, Linda went away to work, came back on the weekends and was gone again by Monday morning. I pretty much lived on my own and it suited both of us like that. Linda didn't have time to look after me because of her career and I quite simply didn't want to be looked after. 

It was different when I was younger though. I had nannies who filled in for my work driven mother who I saw two days of the week. When I was small, I hated her for leaving me, hated her for making me feel like she didn't care about me. But then I grew up. I grew up and realised she did it all because she cared. She didn't know how to look after me and so she did the only thing she knew how to. 

She worked. 

Now, I'm grateful for it. I'm independent and I don't worry about having to be on my own. Linda taught me you work hard to get what you want in life and you work for your dreams. She always had a plan to become successful and wealthy and then suddenly I was thrown into the mix and she was set back in her plan a little. But she coped. She adapted and coped with it and still got where she wanted. 

Just because we don't have the normal mother and son relationship doesn't mean we don't love each other. 

Well at least that's what I thought. If she loved me she wouldn't be moving me to this fucking dump. 

Fields. That's all there is here. If you're lucky, a cow can be spotted in one of the many fields. If you're extra lucky, you can see a cow and a tree.

"I still don't understand," I muttered, scowling out at yet another field. 

"I've been through this Frank. They're moving me here because they think it's best if I-" 

"Best if you what?" I spat. "Get stranded in the middle of nowhere, in fucking Hicksville? This doesn't happen! You get sent to cities, important places where the business is happening! The most that's happen here is a fucking cow shitting in one of these fields! There aren't even any people here Linda! And if there are, Jesus Christ, what are you expecting? Business suits and brief cases? More like pitch forks and inbred morons who-" 

"Frank. Calm down," she sighed. "I'm just as unhappy about it as you are, but I can't kick up a fuss and refuse to come here, can I? Not if I want to keep my job. They just want me to relocate here for a short while, just whilst they're sorting out some business. It's not going to be for long, I promise." 

"A fucking hour here is too long," I grumbled into my knees, resting my forehead against them. 

"Alright Frank. You can either be a whiny brat and sulk for the next few months or you can shut up and get on with it. Life isn't fair Frank. Deal with it. You might even find you like it here." 

"Oh, I'm just going to absolutely adore it here," I snapped sarcastically. "I'm not staying here. Just watch me. I'll be back in L.A before you know it." 

"You're seventeen. How the hell are you going to get back to L.A on your own? Because if you think you're taking my car, you can think again. And you can't just drop out of school," Linda retorted. 

I said nothing and just slumped down further in my seat, glaring at the endless fields we flew past. Linda just sighs and turns to face the road again. 

I reach out the turn the radio on, but then realise they probably have no radio stations in Hickville. 

Good thing I have my iPod. 

Which is out of battery. 

Wonderful. Just abso-fucking-lutely wonderful. 
♠ ♠ ♠
Hey :D so, this is the first chapter and it's fucking shitty, but hey. I'm not Stephen fucking King.

This story isn't going to be updated regularly yet, I just really want to get the first chapter out. For once I've actually planned out a story, so I know where I'm going with it and what's going to happen. (That's good news for you guys because it means it'll definitely get finished and I won't go on hiatus)

So yeah, basically don't annoy me and be like all, omg dude, you have to start writing this, I want another chapter, bla blah blah, BECAUSE IT'S NOT FUCKING HAPPENING.

Just stick with it, please. I dreally appreciate it if you gave it a chance.

Thanks for reading my crappy writing :'D