Fly

Chapter One: New Neighbors

I brought the last box into my new apartment. I looked around at my new home. It wasn’t much, with one small bedroom and a tiny bathroom, but it was still mine. I loved it because of that. It was cheaply furnished, a sofa in the small living room, a full bed in the room, and a coffee table where I assumed a TV was supposed to sit. Rent was cheap and it was good enough for me.

It was pouring rain outside, I could hear it pelt the roof top. Some found it soothing, I found it fucking annoying. How the hell was anyone supposed to get sleep with that noise? I sighed and went to the kitchen. I bought milk, cereal, and bread earlier but that wouldn’t solve my hunger. I avoided unpacking all my stuff because that meant doing things and my muscles ached from track practice and from bringing all my shit up the stairs.

I groaned and moved to unpack it all. It was only four boxes. Nice to that my life could fit into that.

After I was done removing the sperm infested, sex smelled sheets, I put them in a trash bag. Even if Mr. Clean himself washed those with bleach, I wouldn’t sleep with those. I put some clean sheets and my thick, gray comforter onto the bed. I almost just let myself fall into its inviting arms but I couldn’t. I still had things to do.

When my clothes were folded into the closet and I had taken a shower, I fell finally did fall into my bed and groaned. I had such a long day and my muscles begged for rest, but my eyes wouldn’t shut.

So my dad finally skipped out on me, the disgusting bastard. Usually he left for a week, maybe two but after a month, I had enough. I was already eighteen and I could live on my own. I was finishing my senior year of high school so I decided just to move out. The lease was under his name so the landlord would be looking for him. I had been paying most of everything then so it wasn’t much of a difference now.

My dad was a poor excuse of a human. The only way he made money was if he got lucky while gambling. After my mom died when I was twelve, he really let himself go. Not just physically, but whatever mind he had left. My dad wasn’t the greatest dad before that, but my mother’s death really took a toll on him. I think it was the realization that he had me and I was his responsibility.

I remember all the times my dad came home drunk or high, with some hooker. I would cover my ears to the fake moans of the girl and the very real grunts of my father. I remember the times that when my dad’s frustration got the best of him, he would use his fists to take his anger out of me. I would always fight back but I was small then and I could never win.

Finally, after a few hours lying in bed, my eyes blissfully fell asleep.

I woke up to my phone’s alarm. I groaned and the light coming from the window shined into my eyes from the where the curtain hadn’t covered it.

I stood and almost fell. I left my bra on the floor and because of that, I had almost broke my neck. Grumbling, I kicked it aside with vengeance and this time I did fall because I put too much power into the swing.

“Fuck me!” I yelled, not really to anyone.

Yeah, I wasn’t a morning person.

I got up and went to the bathroom. I went through the necessary morning things to get ready for the school day. I brushed my hair, washed my teeth, washed my face, and ate breakfast. I went back to my room and picked my outfit for the day. Winter was coming in full swing this year so I put on a green sweater and some dark skinny jeans. I paired it up with some black combat boots and lace them bad boys up.

I grabbed my school bag and keys and headed out. While I was locking my door, I heard a door open across from mine and then shouting.

“You asshole! I can’t believe your kicking me out!” Trying not look, but failing, I turn around to see a girl with a bad, blonde dye job and orange skin. Her clothes seem like they were put on in a rush and makeup is smeared all around her face. Her night had not gone well.