STOCKHOLM SYNDROME || LANDO NORRIS

1.

The wind was blowing hard. 

It had blew hard in my face, trying to dry out the tears I'd formed in my eyes that day. I had sat on my front door porch, my hair in my face. I tried to keep the arguing from inside the house out of my ears. 

I silently cursed as the sound of a glass bottle breaking rang throughout the quiet neighbourhood, and I heard my mother's yells and screams of dispair. 

I was only six, and suffered from my father's abusing attitude. He'd kicked me out of the house to have fights with my mother; he never wanted me in the house when they were fighting, but just to keep me safe. 

He was still called a bad father in my point of view, even though he prevented me from seeing him hurting my mum. Either way, he had hurt me and Mum badly.

Every time they had a starting to a new fight, I'd know what to do: pick up my cardigan and put on some warm clothes, as my father had spent most of his time out in the summer. 

Then I would head out the front door and lock it behind me, possibly sit on the porch until mum had called me back in. She'd usually be covered in blood and scars and bruises. 

I bad buried my face into my hunched up knees that day. My dad always wanted a son, never a daughter. But after he figured out I liked boy things and activities, he disliked me even more. 

He went with the regular stereotype everyone went with back in the day. Girls were supposed to play with dolls, not racing cars. I was forced to take girly things to school more often by my own Father or else I would get beaten up.

"Maybe you should go fuck yourself and give us a proper daughter and son!" I heard my dad yell and another item broke. Unluckily, I was tall enough to peer over the edge of the window, so I could keep up with the scene. 

My mum was kneeling on the ground, with her face in her hands, arms filled with cuts. Her face was filled with spots of blood. I gasped. "Your daughter acts like a tomboy I'm thinking we should call her a him!"

Why couldn't I be more like a girl, I asked myself as a reckless child, not knowing to be yourself. My parents wouldn't have these fights if it weren't for me. 

I didn't understand the meaning of 'be yourself'. It was always displayed in the Primary school classroom walls in key stage 1 rooms, but I never got the meaning. 

"Edward!" My mum screamed. "Stop hurting me! If you want a son, good. Cause if you kill me you won't be able to have a proper son!"

"I don't care," My dad had spat at her. "When I kill you, I'll throw that little brat out of the house, removing her surname. She's a disgrace to my family's name. She shouldn't have been even born in the first place. You created that little creature."

I decided enough was enough. I left the glass windows alone, once my father figured out my hack. He'd shut the window curtains, and I'd have nowhere else to go. I tried to call the police one time when I snuck the house phone out, but he locked them up in a vault instead. 

"Hey, you okay?"At the age of ten, finally, he'd came running into my life out of nowhere. Lando Norris. The saviour of my fucking life when I was starting to begin another part of my life. 

By that time, my family had moved to Glastonbury as my old neighbours had heard my mum's screams. "I saw you crying on the porch every day after you moved here." Lando, who had been twelve at that time was my neighbour ever since I arrived in Glastonbury.

"N-no, I'm fine," I wiped my tears away. Then I started to recount every bit that my father did, expect for the abusing part. He nodded thoughtfully and gave me some advice: go talk to him. But I never had the courage. "I just don't like this. They keep fighting and it never stops."

"I'm going to look through the window," Lando had suggested. Before I could stop him, he swiftly saw the horrors of what was happening everyday in my home. My dad forgot to shut the curtains. "What the heck..."

I sobbed even more. With someone else that wasn't family finally discovered our years of secret-keeping, I couldn't hold it back. Would I get a beating when I went inside? Most importantly, would Lando get mad at me for lying at him?

Neither. 

"Hey, hey!" Lando comforted me straight away, being the hero then. "It's fine. How long has this been happening for?"

"When I turned six," I explained how he mistreated me for everything: me playing with the boys at school, doing boys activity like football, kart-riding, and mostly sports. "It's been like forever and it's only involved in four years of my life."

"Okay, I might discuss it when I get home, is that okay?" I nodded. Finally maybe he could put a stop to all of this. "You know, we should really deal with this."

"No way," I sniffed. "He's been doing this for a long time. It's impossible to get him to stop, and if I say a single word about this to someone else rather than the three of us I'll be dead." 

"We could go to my house," Lando had suggested. "My parents are nice. My siblings as well. I don't think they'll judge you." 

"Really?" I wiped the tears out of my eyes. 

"Yes! C'mon, he won't even notice," I knew he was talking about my Dad without knowing. I'd let him pull me across the road to his house. His parents let me in as I explained what happened, the two of them nodding and listening to me carefully. 

"Lando, stay here with- sorry, what was your name?" Cisca asked me. 

"Oh, I'm Ashley, you can just call me Ash," I nodded. "It's just a nickname my friends from my old school used to call me."

"Lando, please stay here with Ash," Cisca took her apron off as she put two mugs of hot tea on the table. "You two can drink these, it's optional. Me and Adam will go sort this out." With that, they had both stormed out of the front door and banged it. 

Through the window, we saw them head to my house. I shut my eyes and covered my ears as the shouting rang loudly. 

"I'm sorry you had to go through this," Lando mumbled as he sipped his tea. I did the same, and it immediately warmed up my whole body. "It's not a thing kids our age should go through this. I don't like your dad much."

"I know the feeling..." My voice trailed off as police sirens rang from a distance. Lando quickly left his seat as he pulled the curtains to a side, and we glanced from the clear glass. "Lando, do you think that could be...?"

"The police."  Police cars pulled up to my house, as they ran in with guns. I sat on my bottom, covering my face in my hands as I couldn't dare to see more. A gunshot was heard. I swiftly raised my head. Lando's eyes widened. "What the hell just happened?"

"I can't see anymore of this!" I muttered a cry into my hands as Lando pulled me closer and hugged me. "Did my mum die?"

"I don't think so, we'll have to wait," He whispered. 

"What?" I let go, peeking out of the window again. My dad was being pulled by two officers, and the front door had a whole in it. "Holy crap. He's finally gone." I sobbed again, but that time of joy. 

I'd returned home that day, and my mum cleaned up the whole house. 

From that day on, me and Lando literally became unseparable. We'd discussed more about karts and cars, and as I joined his school, Millfield. Although he left during Year 10, we still kept in contact, as we were getting closer and closer by each day.

We didn't have a single clue about our futures yet. At least yet.