Leaves of Autumn

[1] Leaves of Autumn

Chapter one

The white lines on the grey road drifted behind the car as I stared through the back window.

            “Sit straight in your seat!” my step father ordered.

            I slouched around and face the correct direction.  “Why do we have to move to this bore of a town anyway?” I questioned.

            “Because Rick got his job transfer here,” mum stated in a monotone voice.

            I scowled at where her head was in the seat in front of me.  “Yeah right, Rick’s job lets him be anywhere.  As long as there is internet he can live there.  He works from home.”

            “Well maybe some people move to towns like this for peace and quiet Cecelia!” Rick snapped.  “And bratty teenagers like you should shut your trap before you’re forced into the world to live on your own.  Respect the fact that you’ll have a home you selfish, spoiled, little worthless piece of―”

            “That’ll do Rick,” mum interrupted in the same monotone voice.

            “You’ve sucked the life out of my mother,” I muttered.

            He slammed on the breaks and got out of the car.  He yanked open my car door and pulled me out onto the road.

            “You’re nothing but a speck of dirt on my shoe.  You mean nothing to me.  I can chuck you out whatever I want.  So you start showing some respect!” he spat into my face.

            I glared at him resulting with him taking a blow to my face causing me to collapse to the ground.

            “Worthless,” he spat again.           

            I struggled to my feet again and clambered into the car, my mouth shut this time.

            Mum glanced at me in her mirror, her grey eyes looking at mine in a disapproved matter. 

            I hate her... with every single bone in my body. 

            I hated my mother so much.  I hated her weedy grey eyes, her Botox tight skin, her big full lips, mountains of make up on her flakily tanned skin, and her puffy brown hair and her silicon chest.

            Rick has dark brown hair and square glasses that cover his dark brown eyes.  He was rather fond of lots of cigars and always reeked of alcohol.  He calls himself a writer but I call him an alcoholic.

            He was as pathetic as my mother.

            I on the other hand have long messy dark brown hair and dark brown eyes.  I always covered my eyes in dark make up.  My nails were always painted black.  And the only shoes I wore were my combat boots.

            “This is your room,” mum announced as we walked through the house.  It was an old Queenslander home that looked like it was on the edge of falling apart.  The floorboards were so old and squeaky, the walls were so dusty and grey, and the windows either didn’t open or didn’t close.

            “Home sweet home,” I whispered as I slumped onto the mattress of the ground.

            I slowly shut my eyes and let the darkness take me into a deep slumber.

            “Get up!” mum shrieked into my room.

            Of course my immediate response was to lay there.  Why would I do what she says?  She’s never shown me any kindness so I see no use showing her any kindness in return.  Treat people how they treat you I always say.