𝑩𝑹𝑶𝑲𝑬𝑵 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑳𝑺 ♫︎ wdw

♫︎ 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 15

Third pov !
°♪༄♫︎➪
Chicago, °thirten years
ago

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London sat on her bed, her hands over her ears and her back against the wall. Her eyes were closed and she bit her lip, trying to ignore the chaos from downstairs.

"Shut up you bitch!"

Screaming, shouting, shattering of glass, and things being smacked to the ground- the noises echoed through the whole house and could be heard upstairs and next doors to them.

"Call me that one more time, I fucking dare you, you piece of shit!"

London wished she could say it was something new, something she had never experienced before- but at the age of eight, she knew better than to lie.

The young girl waited and waited for the shouting to become less. It was a normal school night.

Keyword, 'normal'.

So even though London was used to all the chaos in her life- which had began when she was maybe five, six years old- she still had trouble falling asleep through it. But she was slowly getting used to it, she had to.

"What did I do to deserve such a nasty wife like you!"

An hour later and the noise had moved itself upstairs, loud footsteps being heard on the staircase and they passed London's bedroom door- forgetting that she was even there- and all the way to her parent's bedroom.

"Oh no, don't you dare say something like that and then just walk away. Get back here, Anthony Christian
Bright!"

Everything settled down after more shouting, a mirror shattering to the ground when a fist was slammed in the wall right next to it, and a door getting slammed shut. That was the end of a fight that would come start all over again, two days later if London was lucky.

She was maybe young, but she knew that the marriage from her parents wasn't healthy. But how many times she was told by them to never tell their situation in public, saying people would send London away from her parents and in another home. And the blonde simply didn't want that, scared that she would never see her parents again if that would happen.

So London kept on living like a battle fight was happening in her own house. Things would break, shouting would be heard day in and day out, and chaos turned worse when years passed, until the same fights were fought over and over again and it reached their new target,

their daughter.

But eight year old London didn't know yet that she was gonna be pulled into the hot mess of her parents when she was older.

No, she was too busy dreaming and wishing that the end was gonna be near soon.

Oh if little London only knew that she was living in false hope.

°♪༄♫︎➪
Chicago, °nine years
later

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