Distractions

And so I pulled the headphones down over my ears, blocking out the yelling, the hostility - the world.
They've been screaming at each other all morning: my mom and my dad. I thought they were just acting at first, but now I can hear their deranged ranting over my music, and even my favorite song on full volume can't drown them out.
It's been happening quite a lot recently: Mom will ask Dad to put a bit more effort into looking after the house, or ask for him to fetch groceries. Dad will moan that he works six days a week nine 'til seven, and that he needs a break, the least he needs is more stress. Mom will retort, saying that he's just a lazy beggar. Their pained smirks melt into fierce grimaces, and their calm voices become loud and crazed.
It's so distracting now, I can't concentrate on the music, or anything for that matter.
I haul myself up off the bristly carpet and go up to my bedroom, where hopefully I will find peace.
I'll take that back. Molly has attached herself to my leg, and is crying, terrified of the loud noise. I can't just pull her off me and leave. She's my little sister, just turned five yesterday. She got no cake, no presents, no birthday hug.
But she's not disappointed; it's the norm for us.
Our family has no money, I've resorted to stealing odd apples and dropped grapes in our local supermarket, to keep us alive. Mom usually forgets about the weekly shopping trip, and wastes the housekeeping allowance drowning her sorrows night after night. It's so depressing, but you get used to it. It's no good trying to ask Mom to stop drinking, she just smacks you across the legs and throws insults at you.
A sharp sound echoes around our bare house... it sounds like a smack. I guess Dad hit Mom again. Only I can't hear her stumbling and drunken cursing as she tries to retaliate.
I drop my earphones on the floor, telling Molly to stay where she is. She nods, sucking her thumb.
I hurry down the stairs, apprehensive. I'm not sure what I'll find. I've had to call the police on Dad a few times, after he knocked Mom unconscious. I remember when he turned on me, and I spent the night in intensive care with a broken leg from where he cracked me with a baseball bat for being insolent.
I hear the lock click in our door and scurry into the lounge. Dad's gone. Mom is lying bleeding on the carpet, her arms and head crying crimson tears.
I'm so scared, I run to fetch my mobile, and punch the keypad, dialing 9-1-1. I am shaking uncontrollably - I've been in this situation many times before, but this is different. I'm scared for my own welfare. I don't care about Mom. I HATE Dad. I don't give a darn about whiny little Molly. I'm running away.
I give the details to the lady on the phone, she tells me an ambulance is on the way.
This is my chance.
I'm seriously gonna make a run for it.
I run upstairs and pick up my headphones. I'm not taking any clothes, I don't have time to pack. the ambulance will be here any minute. I kiss Molly's cheek and she looks up at me with watery, red eyes. I feel so guilty.
...No I don't.
I'm SICK of being everyone's last choice, the person you feel sorry for. Well, they lost their chance. I couldn't care less about them.
I push Molly over and seize my phone off the bed. I pull on my scuffed trainers, though I have to scrunch up my toes to get them on. I bolt down and dive for the front door. I blow a final kiss to my Mom, who is still sprawled motionless on the floor.
I leave the door wide open so the paramedics can get in quickly. I don't really want Mom to die, even though she couldn't care less about me...
As I walk up the street, I feel resentment for leaving my Mom. I keep looking back at the house, in case someone goes in and tries to steal anything or hurt Mom even more.
I'm regretting not bringing a coat too. The bitter morning breeze burns my grubby face, my pajamas are thin and threadbare and don't help keep me warm at all.
Hello Past, stop tapping me on the shoulder - I'm not looking back. I'm starting a new life, under a new name. I won't be a shy little kid any more... I'll be a rough street girl, who won't take any rubbish from anyone.
I am Trinity Rose, and this is my new life.
I have nowhere to go.
I am so hungry.
I am lonely and cold.
But at least I can start afresh, a new beginning...
It's the beginning of the end.
Eager to escape my past, I dart out into the road, paying no attention to the car that was desperately trying to swerve out of my way. It didn't swerve enough. I heard the piercing scream as I smashed into the bumper, my neck crunching as I impacted on the tarmac road surface.
I must be dead.
I'll join the Black Parade... Just like in the song....
...
I eventually wake up again. I see no people in military jackets, no black snow spiraling from the heavens. All I see is the tiresome pattern of tiles on the ceiling and a drab yellowish wall to my left.
There's a persistent BEEP too, I try to move and find out the source of the noise, but I am anchored down to the bed I am in, all sorts of wires connecting me to large grey machines. It hits home: I am in a hospital. I am not dead. But what is about to happen will make me wish I was...
Category:Deletion Log Refugees
Category:Bad Creepypasta
Category:Pages with grammar that doesn't suck
Category:Old Shit