Let's Play A Game, Alpha

1 - Silence Is Golden

Walking home alone at night never ends well. Everyone knows that, especially the residents of Draycott, London. Draycott  was a place where gangs ruled the streets and prostitutes were found on every street corner. No child left this place without scars. I wasn't proud of being from such a horrid town, but then again, we don't get chose where we are from. 

All towns have some sort of secret or rumour that keeps people on their toes. For Draycott, it was werewolves. Even though fantasy books were mostly all I ever read, I still had a sense of reality. All but I, the old hag who lived down the street with 5 horrid cats, and Lester the Hobo believed there was some mythical creatures roaming around at night. The reason this rumour had started was when a local man was found mutilated in the Whitaker Forest a few years ago, which was just bordering the outside of East London. 

But let's go back to my nightly dilemma. You see, there was a completely reasonable explanation as to why I was doing this. After school, I went to the library because, you know, books. They were my escape from this ugly reality. Anyways, I had lost track of time and the library had closed while I was still inside.

Everyone had gone home, so I couldn't yell for help. Or call, because my phone was oh so dead when I needed it the most. Not that it would even matter, because I had no one to call. No friends, and with the exception of Flora, no family. Our dad took off for Poland or Russia or wherever the hell he wanted to go as soon as my mother told him she was pregnant. And my mother? She took up drinking and drugs when our lives went on a downhill spiral. My sister Flora was an angel of 6. I wanted a better life for her. It was the only reason I hadn't tried to leave or off myself. I had to stay alive for her, otherwise my mother would ruin her like she ruined herself.  

We didn't have much money, but I had managed to get a job in a coffee shop as a waiter. They were almost reluctant to hire me, solely based on my nose ring and pastel pink hair. But I guess they were desperate, because I got the job. I don't think they'll keep me around much longer because I had thrown hot coffee onto a perverted bugger who thought it was perfectly fine to grab another customer's arse when she passed. The unspoken girl code made me do it, and I regretted not a single damned thing.

I wasn't considered a bad girl, but I wasn't a goody two shoes either. A few years ago, just to piss off my good-for-nothing woman I call Mother, I had dyed my hair fuchsia pink. It had faded to a pastel color now. Maybe it was to show my mother that this wasn't just a teenage rebellion, but I felt like dying it back to a normal color would be like surrendering. But surrendering to what, I didn't know.

Everyone at school avoided me. I was the social outcast, the lowest rank in the sea of popularity. And I wanted to keep it that way. I'd rather be myself than two-faced bitches with fake tits and skin so tan it could classify as orange. At least I was left in peace with my books, even in class. I guess the teachers didn't expect much from me.

Did I want to get somewhere in life? Of course. But it didn't seem very possible. Like I had mentioned before, we lived in Draycott, London. The perfect place for prostitution, rape, and drugs. It was all I had known, and I hated it. Many times I had run away, only to come back because of my sister. And I would never admit it, but for my mother too. Sure, I hated her and she hated me. But she was still my mother, and I couldn't leave her. She would overdose and kill herself if I wasn't there to stop her, and Flora would be placed in some foster home. And I couldn't let that happen.

Sometimes I just wanted to give up, you know? Everything seemed hopeless at the moment. The wind was picking up, and a cold chill hung in the night air. Broken streetlamps and trash littered the dirty streets, and I was pretty sure I would get killed tonight.

My boots clicked the sidewalk. A car passed, headlights bright against the darkness. Rock music blasted from the inside. I watched it curve and sway down the street. The driver was probably drunk or higher than the Empire State building. Either way, I was pretty sure there would be an accident tonight. Maybe I should start hanging out with Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh. I could give him a run for his money on pessimism.