Primed for Sin//Basketball Diaries

1 - Distant Memories

I felt the warm summer breeze tickle the freckled skin on my cheeks, the smell of fresh grass filling my nostrils as I gazed up at the bright blue sky; not a cloud in sight. I felt the corners of my mouth being pulled up into a large smile as I peered back down at the animal before me.

"Georgie!"

The voice boomed from behind me, startling me and knocking me out of my trance.

I spun on my heel to face the sound seeing my father approaching with a small saddle and bridle; it would fit a pony, not a horse.

"C'mon dad, that tack ain't gonna fit 'Ol Boy!" I yelled back in response, my father's eyes widening before his eyebrows knitted together in a frown.

The summer breeze wafted his scent in my direction, the smell of sweat filling my nostrils and replacing the sweeter smell of grass. I could smell the freshly made saddle, the leather appearing cleaner than ever could be.

"Just try it, for me," My father smiled, handing me the leather tack.

I looked down at it seeing how each indentation would most likely fit me perfectly and I couldn't help but feel a sting of guilt for my father. He was a saddler and had handcrafted this saddle especially for his daughter; who was truly grateful by the way.

I placed the tack gently on the dusty ground beneath us before wrapping my short, childlike arms around my father's torso, "Thank you," I whispered into his chest.

I felt the vibrations move throughout his chest as he chuckled at my sudden change in mood before he placed a large, comforting hand on my back, "You're welcome, sweetheart,"

"Georgia!"

I let out a short grumble before rolling on my side to face the bedroom wall, the sheets covering me sitting just above my waist. I leaned back slightly, misjudging where my bed ended and slipping from under the warm bed sheets and onto the freezing wooden floorboards with a soft thud.

"Ow," I let slip a grunt whilst rubbing my head which had been the first to hit the floor.

Just as I stood to my feet, rubbing my hazel eyes awake, my bedroom door slammed open and I was greeted with a not-so-nice face filled with anger.

She looked me up and down before speaking, "Our appointment is at nine o'clock!" My mother barked at me, a heavy frown on her face.

Her bleached blonde hair, which appeared dryer than a bale of straw, sitting just above her shoulders, dull bluey-grey eyes which scanned me over and over again, and her lips screwed together tightly; I don't know which one was more unsettling to see on your own mother.

I couldn't help but glance down at her clothes, or what she called "clothes" were really ancient rags she'd bought from a charity store, the colours had faded out of them long ago, probably back in the 17th century. To make it worse, she had little to no body fat as she'd been abusing drugs for so many years; the cloth hung from her frame like a skeleton wrapped in bandages.

She raised her hands which made me flinch before slapping them together in a swift motion, "Georgia! Put some clothes on girl," She commented before spinning quickly on her heel and exiting the tiny room, slamming the door behind her. It was remarkable how the whole building didn't just collapse right there and then.

I sighed before peered down at my body; she was right. I was standing there like a lemon in my underwear and bra, nothing else. We were never a wealthy family, but we did have money, just not enough for decent clothing or a place with a higher rent.