She's Electric | Sam Fender

i - Cassia

"Cass!" Dad yells from downstairs, "You comin' or what?"

I run a brush through my hair quickly, trying to tame the birdnest that sits on top of my head. "Just give me a minute!" I shout back. I can practically hear him roll his eyes. It's not like we're running late or anything; we've got loads of time to get there. The gig's not until tomorrow, but we're meant to be meeting people tonight.

"If you don't get your arse down here in the next," He pauses to think of a time, "50 seconds, I'm goin' without you."

I sigh, and then leg it down the stairs, narrowly avoiding slipping on the bottom step. I've been begging my dad for ages to let me come. I don't know why I really wanted to go, but the atmosphere of live music just can't be beaten. Even if it's your dad that's singing. Oasis broke up in 2009 when I was 13, so I can still remember the concerts. It was magic. But this gig seems different. It's with a guy from North Shields, Sam Fender. I've listened to his album a few times already, and it's pretty good. I get Bruce Springsteen vibes from him, which I love.

"Bloody finally," Dad says. I don't know why he's complaining, he's not even ready by the looks of things. "Come on, get your shoes on."

It's like being 7 again. Do this, do that. Do it now. Hurry up and get ready for school, you're going to be late. Scowling, and silently cursing my existence, I tie my hi-tops and storm out of the house, slamming the door behind me.

Seeing as my dad doesn't have a licence, but owned 5 cars at one point, I'm driving. The jag got passed down to me when Dad gave up learning to drive. As you'd expect, the insurance is through the roof, but that doesn't matter much. Not when you've got as much money as we do. It's great, being able to afford whatever I want, but I do wish I had a normal childhood. A childhood with friends.

Dad joins me in the car about a minute later, frowning.

"What's up with you then?" He asks as I pull out of the driveway. Manchester's great and all, but it's kind of minging. As we drive, I see more than one person blowing something out their nose and onto the street. Lovely.

I shrug as I program the sat-nav to where the gig is. Unfortunately, I have to drive to London, not something I enjoy doing. "Nowt."

Dad snorts, "Bollocks."

Still ignoring him, I load my Spotify and hit play. The last thing I was listening to was Girl & Boys by Blur, so I skip it quickly before Dad notices. History (Cast) starts to play. Cast are one of my favourite bands, and they're kind of underrated. While Oasis and Blur were feuding for top spots in the Britpop scene, Cast kind of slipped under the radar, and that's a shame. They're so talented, and I love their voices. Even if they are Scousers.

"Cassie," He sighs. No one ever calls me by my actual name. It's always shortened to Cass or Cassie. They're a little bit more common than Cassia, which is a plant. It's not even a nice plant really, Chinese Cinnamon.

I roll my eyes and turn up the music. It's my way of keeping the world at arm's length. Dad keeps pushing me into talking though, "There's something up," He says. "I'm worried about you."

I can't help but laugh, "Sorry, am I damaging your image?"

"Oh, not this again." Dad shakes his head and looks out of the window, "I love you. You're my daughter."

"I am when it suits you," I snap. There's years of rage about to come out if I don't put a lid on it. Years of anger and frustration just waiting to pop.

"Cassie, you don't mean that." He sounds almost apologetic now. And he should be. It's hard not to feel ignored. Especially because I'm the oldest. I pull the car over and rest my head against the steering wheel, doing my very best not to cry. The dam holding back the tears break, and I can't stop it anymore.

Dad rests his hand on my back while I sob until I feel like vomiting, "Come on, love. You're okay."

I sniff, still suffocating on my emotions, "I'm sorry. God, this is pathetic."

"No, I'm sorry." This may be the first and only time my dad's ever apologised, "I've been a shite dad, and you deserve so much better. But you've turned out alright, all things considering."

I choke out a half-hearted laugh, "Thanks. I think."

A/N: I have about 12 Sam Fender fan-fictions on the go, but I decided to publish this one. Sort of inspired by luciaspacifier who is an absolute legend, so go check them out!

Thank you!