You can't be my mum (a Lucy Bronze fanfic) - Book 1

Chapter 1 - pain is only temporary

Rosie's POV:
"Happy birthday dear Rosie, happy birthday to you!" my whole family sang energetically towards me with huge smiles plastered on their faces.

Despite it being December, warm sunshine filled the room. There wasn't a raindrop or a dark, grey cloud in sight.

This, I thought, this is what true love feels like.

"Wake up bitch!" My dad bellowed into my ear, "you're already running late and you haven't made me or your mother's breakfast yet!". I could sense the intimidating presence of my dad's big, bulky body looming over me and I hadn't even opened my eyes yet.

My eyes winced as I reluctantly heaved my aching body out of my bed, well more like an mattress shoved on the floor with an old rag of a picnic blanket for warmth. There was no comforting feeling most people get when they jump into a warm and welcoming bed after a long day. Everything was just cold and hard. At this point it even felt like my heart had turned to stone.

I drew my curtains, dirty with stains of an unknown substance, and pulled on my uniform from the day before. I was supposed to wake up early and have a shower before my parents got up but an unfamiliar feeling of warmth and love from that dream had pushed me back down into an even deeper sleep, meaning I would have to have one at school in order to stay away from them.

Showering is one of the worst things I have to do, my dad doesn't understand privacy and he just stands there watching me with tunnel vision. You may wonder why my mum doesn't stop him, well she came up with the idea in the first place. Something about keeping a close eye on me. I try to avoid showering as much as I can, but a can of deodorant and a bottle of perfume can only mask so much of the inevitable stench.

I slowly trudged down the uncarpeted stairs, carefully avoiding the deadly wooden splinters scattered about. As soon as I reached the bottom, I felt a harsh shove, pushing me into the kitchen. The person who shoved me, then proceeded to follow me to the kitchen. They gave me a stinging slap on the back of the head, presumably for being late, before sitting at the kitchen table. By her groaning sounds as she heaved her 20 stone body around, I could tell it was my mother. She slammed her mug on the table indicating that I needed to make her a cup of the strongest coffee you can buy, "some of us have busy lives you know, hurry your slutty self up or there will be consequences" she spat at me. I gritted my teeth and proceeded to put water in the kettle. After it had boiled, I was extra careful in making it the way she liked. Yesterday I made it too weak and received a whole mug full of scalding hot coffee being hurled at me. I managed to react quickly but the steaming liquid still managed to catch the side of my arm and form a scar.

After serving the coffee and a dominos cookie from the takeaway they had the night before, I had a slice of bread with out of date ham, my dad came thundering down the hall, "what's she doing now babe? Do I need to sort her out again" he said angrily. I knew my mother would take this opportunity, like always, to complain to my dad knowing perfectly well what he would do to me. I tried to slip out of the door to avoid the inevitable morning confrontation that was about to occur but a hand grabbed firmly around my upper arm, the too long acrylic nails piercing my fragile skin. My mum eagerly replied to my dad, "come here Gary and look at your daughter" she paused as he made his way into the kitchen, "look at her greasy hair, greasy skin, messy uniform"she laughed in my face. My dad immediately replied, "my daughter? You're having a laugh aren't you? She's no daughter of mine. Just look at the state of her". My mum shot back, "well she's not mine. I wouldn't even leave my bedroom looking like that nevermind walk through our neighborhood and go to school!". This heated debate of who did and didn't want me as their daughter wasn't going to get any better so I took the opportunity to grab my bag and make my way to the front door. Just as I opened the door, I felt the long nails piece my skin once again, "don't forget about the social worker tonight at 3.45, you better be here. Don't even dare thinking about making me and your dad look like idiots when we don't know where you are!" My mum muttered sharply through gritted teeth.

The social worker was coming round because one of the neighbors reported my parents abusive behaviour. Last week I was getting out of the car, after my dad had to pick me up from school because I got into a fight and was suspended for 3 days, and he was shouting at me. He then hit my on my head as we walked into the house. I mean, if the neighbor thinks that's bad, then it's for the best they didn't hear what went on inside.

As I was walking along the path, I got a notification on my phone. I already knew who it was because they were the only person I had my notifications on for, Lucy Bronze. She had posted about the game tomorrow : can't wait to be back on the pitch with fans for the first time since covid. Hope you all have tickets 😉.
I wasn't going, even though the game was in my town, because there was no chance in hell my parents would let me. Instead I had been invited to my best friend Amelia's house to watch it on ITV with a pizza or something. It also happened to be my 15th birthday tomorrow so it was nice that she was trying to do something special because she knew my family didn't celebrate birthdays. That's what I told her, but the truth is that they don't even know when my birthday is, nevermind want to celebrate it with me. I wasn't bothered though, I didn't want to celebrate with them anyway.