Rebel Love Song

1: Do You Have Too Much Earwax Blocking Your Ears?!

I'm woken up to the splitting of my already injured wrists. I scream out in pain and shove at the idiot who reopened my wounds. Through my tears, I glare up at my brother, whose smirking like the little butt he is.
"What is wrong with you?!" I spit out, choking on my tears. I run to the bathroom and turn on the faucet, slipping my bloody wrists under the water. after the blood is gone, I pour peroxide onto my cuts and bandage them up. I walk out of the bathroom just in time to hear my brother's insults.
"Well, stupid, it's not my fault that you're emo and cut yourself." Mason snarls. pure hatred fills my heart for this boy.
"You're sick in the head. I hate you and you don't deserve the right to be labeled my brother," I say in a venomous tone. the smirk falls off Mason's face and is replaced with amusement.
"I think you have it the other way around, freak. I never even considered you as my blood. You're nothing to me. Not now, not ever." once he's finished, Mason slaps me hard across the face and splits my lip. I fall to the ground after stumbling from the impact, but, I don't cry out this time. I hold it in.
He waits for my reaction, but all I do is hold in the tears that brim my eyes. Mason snorts and leaves, muttering, "pathetic." once he slams my door, I sob. why is he so mean to me?
I get up and walk to my bathroom. looking in the mirror, I sigh in relief. My lip only cracked because of my chapped lips. I make sure before putting some Carmex on my wound. I grab a towel and wipe away the tears. I can't just sit here and cry. I have to get ready for work. At the mere thought of going to work, I grin, but stop when my lip throbs. I look in the mirror and make sure that I didn't make my lip bleed again. Nope. I'm all good. I get out my dark red lipstick and put it on, hiding the incident from view. I then slip in my black lip ring, and coat on gold eye shadow, and add black eyeliner. I walk out of the bathroom, looking for something to wear.
I grab my black baggy leggings and pull them on over my biker shorts, and pull off my shirt, throwing on a salmon colored Cami. walking into my closet to find a shirt to wear, I choose my black Ouija board flowy half shirt, and I chose some salmon colored pastel tapers to wear too. I grabbed two spare outfits, just in case. I walk out of my closet and grab my black and salmon colored addidas, slipping them on before grabbing my towel, water bottle, and keys, throwing them into my Pierce the Veil Collide With the Sky beach bag. running out of my room, I close the door and keep my head down. maybe if I'm lucky--
"And just where do you think your going?" my dad snarled. I clamp my eyes shut and sigh. damn. I turn around to face him slowly, avoiding eye contact.
"I-I'm going to work," I mumble. I hear him stomp up to me before I feel the punch. without a word, he walks off. I lift my hand up and gingerly touch my cheek. I got lucky: he threw a weak punch.
I suddenly hear plates crashing and I rush to the kitchen. I fly through the doorway, right as my dad leaves to his study through the hall. My mother's on the floor sobbing, clutching her cheek with one hand and picking up glass with the other. I run over to her and smack the glass from her hands. She flinches, but instantly relaxes when she realizes it's me. I grab a broom and sweep up all of the glass onto the tray, dumping it into the trash on my way to the fridge. As my fingers wrap around the ice pack, I listen to my mom's hiccups, feeling like my heart stopped and crumpled.
I tug the ice pack out and walk over to my mother, lifting her face. I gasp and drop the ice pack in horror. My mother instantly drops her head in shame. with shaky hands, I lift her face again.
Her lips are cracked and blue, her beautiful emerald eyes now look lifeless. My mother's left eye is black, and blue and purple bruises litter her cheekbones and jaw.
I drop my gaze and grab the ice pack, bringing it to her cheek. "That's it," I state.
"What, sweetie?" my mom asks in a raw, raspy voice.
I looked into my mother's eyes and give her my this-isn't-for-bargain-you're-going-to-listen-to-me look. "we're leaving today."
My mom stared at me with pure shock. She soon snaps out of it and her head spins from side to side. "Are you crazy?? we can't just up and leave! As much as I want too, your father will find us!" my mom hissed. I hold up a  finger up and run upstairs. I grab my seven wallets from under my bed, which each contain $500 at the least. I know that's not enough to start a living off of, but it's still enough for a few days at a hotel. since the time I turned fourteen, I've had at least three jobs at once. Now, at seventeen, I work four jobs, well five, if you count my favorite. I stuff the wallets into my beach bag before sprinting down the stairs, running into the kitchen, grabbing my mother by the hand, and sprinting out to the car. I unlock it and rip open the passenger door and push my mom in, slamming the door shut. I then rush to the driver's side and fling myself in. I lock the doors and slam my key into the ignition. I twist the key and my '67 Chevy Impala roars to life. I pull out of the driveway and drive to my first shift: Hot Topic. the whole way there, my mom is screaming at me.
"Child! do you have too much earwax blocking your ears?! I said your father will find us! besides! do you honestly think we can keep up a stable living with nothing??"
" Yes. because one, no one knows where I work. two, even if they did, they don't know which, nor how many jobs I work. and three--" I stopped to toss her two of the wallets--"there are six more of those." My mom opens one and her mouth drops. she zips it shut and opens the other, gaping at that wallet too. she closes it and faintly says, "wow." she hands me the wallets, which I shove into my beach bag. I then park at the mall and get out, motioning for my mom to follow suit. I grab her hand and jog into the mall, dragging her into Hot Topic.
As we walk in, my mom starts to panic. I face palm myself. I'm such an idiot: I forgot my mother hasn't set foot outside the house in six years. I turn to face her and see her bruised face full of shock, her eyes snapping frantically from side to side, watching for signs of danger.
I quickly hustle her to the dressing rooms and lightly push her inside. "Stay here," I demand softly but firmly. Breathing louder than the store's air conditioners, which due to the store being sort of old, are very loud, she slightly nods her head.
I close the door and trudge over to the checkout counter. I tap on my best friend's, Dakota's, shoulder. She turns around and grins brightly at me. Normal people wouldn't go thirty feet near her, which is mainly the reason that She, her older twin brother, Elijah, and I are normally the only people that work this shift.
Dakota is the living definition of beautiful. Her almond shape hazel eyes, which are always lined in thick black eyeliner that wings at the corners, lift at the corners, but not enough to look Asian, though her mom is. Her right eyebrow always has a different piercing in it, and her nose, which is small and narrow, but not pointed, is pierced. Even with the piercing, which she never changes because I gave it to her on our seventeenth birthday, her nose looks very elegant. Her lips, which are small but full and plump, are always painted black. Dakota has neon green scene style hair that goes down to her mind back and is dyed black at the ends.
Now I know you're all probably thinking, "Well, Blade, what do you mean our birthday?" Well, Elijah, Dakota, and I all have the same birthday. In fact as luck would have it, Elijah was born at 1:21 p.m., Dakota at 1:22 p.m., and I at 1:23 p.m. on June twentieth. Yeah, I'm the baby, which means I get teased the most.
"Hey, Blade! When we get off, I just put new Famous Last Words merch on the shelf, so let's-- what's wrong?" she asks when she sees my face.
I open my mouth to respond, but am cut off to: "Look at Blade like that again, Pretty boy. I dare you. You'll loose your eyes!" Dakota and I spin around in awe, searching for the idiot who spoke. Sure enough, Elijah had a Prep boy pinned to the wall, which had unfortunately knocked off Dakota's newly stocked Famous Last Words merch. Rage was clear in Elijah's eyes.
"Dang it! I just finished that!" Dakota whisper-yells. I look at Dakota and we share a look before turning back to the boy's.
"Elijah!" Dakota and I exclaim, and the boys' heads snap to face us. The Prep boy catches sight of me and smirks, looking me up and down: Eye-raping me. I look down and shift from foot to foot, obviously uncomfortable under the creep's gaze. I slowly look up at Elijah to see him watching me worriedly. My gaze snaps from Elijah to the Prep, who's still eye-raping me, before snapping back to Elijah, shivers running down my spine. Elijah glances at the Eye-rapist, who is still pinned to the wall, and catches him red-handed. He takes in a sharp breath before Pulling Creeper McCreepers off the wall before slamming him back into it.
Right as Elijah's fist flies up, Dakota and I rip him off. "I'm sorry, Sir, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Dakota states coldly in the Eye-rapist's direction. He starts to protest, and the limp Elijah, who is currently being held up by Dakota, tenses up and flings himself at the kid again. I sigh and walk over to the checkout counter, clock in and grab my work badge, slipping it on.
I jog back over to the little scene, that's starting to draw attention, and touch my brother's arm, relaxing him. we aren't blood related, but we've known each other since birth, our moms being best friends and all.
I turn to the kid with hard eyes. "Sir, don't make us call security."
After a few minutes of standing here, he leaves, muttering, "whatever, stupid idiot." Elijah's super hearing picks up the words and suddenly I'm having to help drag him into the dressing room.
Right as we reach the doors, I hear a gasp. I freeze and slowly shut my eyes. Crap! Mom! I slowly turn to her and walk he out while Dakota locks her brother in the dressing room. I lead mom over to the check out counter and have her sit behind it.
"Umm, Blade? Who's that?" I hear Dakota ask cautiously. I look mom in the eyes and mouth: stay here.
I walk to my best friend.
"I need the Emergency Makeup Kit."
"Why? Who's that?"
"I need the Emergency Makeup Kit."
"Why? Blade, who is that?"
"I need the Emergen--"
"BLADE!"
"MY MOTHER! I NEED THE KIT!"
Dakota gasps and my hand flies to my mouth. I stare at her with wide eyes and my gaze snaps to the floor. The twins haven't known my mom is alive since we were eleven. No one has. If they did, they'd wonder why they haven't seen her for the past six years. What would I say? Oh, you know: Hm? Why haven't you seen my mother, who everyone had thought was dead? Well, you know, because my dad, who's a druggie and an abusive father and husband, doesn't want to go to prison for the rest of his life. Go figure right?
I feel a hand on my shoulder and my head snaps up. Dakota slowly takes her hand off shoulder and holds out the Emergency Makeup Kit to me. I take it after a moment of hesitation and turn back to face my mom, who's still hiding behind the counter.
I walk over to her and right as I'm about to bend down, I hear someone clear their throat. I look up to see at least seven customers in the checkout line, holding their items. Dakota notices too, and she walks to the register next to the one I'm at with a smile. I hand the kit to my mom and Dakota and I both say, "We can help someone here."