"Ouch!" I hiss as I double over in pain. I've stepped on yet another shard of glass.
Okay, so maybe that isn't the best way to start out a story. My name is Alex. Alex Jasper. I'm 20 years old. I go to the near by art college here in England. Brighton, to be exact.
I just arrived at my house to find the aftermath of a fight between my mum's abusive boyfriend and herself. I'm assuming he threw another empty whiskey bottle at her due to the many shards of glass I'm stepping on and the fresh smell of alcohol.
Of course I'm not just stepping on glass because I'm not looking where I'm going, we're going through a power shortage and it's pitch black.
Just my luck.
I can hear faint and distant sobs coming from my mother's room, along with the snores of her deadbeat boyfriend. If I went to check on her, I'd just be putting the both of us in danger.
I go upstairs pass their room and into mine. I flop down on my bed and turn up my phone's music to find that it's playing Metallica's Master of Puppets. I love this song, but it's played thrice within the last hour. I skip it to Iron Maiden's The Wicker Man and instantly hum to the tune after popping in some sleeping pills and then black out.
I'm awoken at 4:30 am (A half hour since I fell asleep) to screaming and then an eerie silence after a slammed door.
Great. Just great. I grab my metal bat and tiptoe downstairs.
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AN: Hello readers! This is my first time actually publishing a story so I hope you enjoyed. Stay tuned if you want more I suppose.
- ChemicalKid XØ
