Hero(A Newsboys fanfic)

Chapter 1: Paying the Price

*warning: slight violence*

(Lalya's POV)

I walked through the front door of my house and set my backpack down. I walked into the living room where my sixteen year old brother  Adam was watching tv. I sighed to myself. Twenty eight years old and I'm still living with my brother and father. I'd move out if my father would let me but he keeps me here like our house is a prison.

"Hey, Adam."

Adam looked over and smiled but said nothing. He was known to be a quiet kid but he was funny and nice to everyone he met. His features were similar to mine; he had messy dark brown hair, green eyes. Our only difference was that he had freckles whereas I didn't. Ever since our mother had died when he was ten and I was twenty-two, I had become a mother to him. I would take him to and from school, help him with homework, and feed him. He relied on me for everything and I honestly didn't mind. I loved him more than anything, and I wanted him to know that he had still had someone to look after him and be there for him.

Our father wasn't around much. He was often gone for long ours at work and we didn't see him very often. He used to be a construction worker but after mom died, he had quit and now I don't what he does. He comes home at very inconsistent hours but he comes back with money. He hasn't been the same since mom died.

I walked to my room and literally threw
myself on my bed. I put in my headphones and got lost in the world of music. I was listening to "We Believe" by the Newsboys when suddenly the song stopped and I sat up to find Adam looking at my phone. He looked at me with sad and scared eyes.

"Layla, dad could be home any minute!" He panicked. "What is he finds out? What would we do?"

"I don't know." I admitted. "But it'll be okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Adam nodded and I pulled him into a hug before he left the room. I groaned and fell back against my bed. I knew I had to be more careful. My dad hates God and religion....ever since mom died. We've been hiding our faith from him for so long.

And something told me my worst nightmare was about to come true.

(A few minutes later; time skip brought to you by my diseased imagination)

"LAYLA!"

I heard my Dad shout my name and before I knew it he barged into my room, anger plastered on his face. He looked at my phone then slammed it on my bed.

"Layla, you had one more chance! I told before we don't worship God! He's dead! He doesn't exist!" He roared.

Tears welled up in my eyes. "No, he's not! He's my father! He's alive-"

A sharp slap across my cheek stops me in my sentence. He's never done that. He's never been abusive. To me or to anyone. I opened my mouth to speak again but my dad grabbed my neck and began dragging me out of my room. I quickly grabbed my phone and shoved it into my pocket.

"Dad, please don't!" I heard Adam cry. "Don't do this!"

I heard another sharp sound and Adam fall to the floor. "Stay out of this!" My dad yelled.

He opened the front door and threw me onto the porch. He threw my backpack as well then slammed the door and locked it.

I sat there for a moment, completely stunned. My dad just threw me out of the house.
I knew there was nothing I could do. No matter how much I begged or apologized, he wouldn't let me back in.

I could hear crying and mumbled voices, the doorknob rattled. I knew it was Adam. I sighed as a couple of tears rolled down my face. I stood up and slung my backpack over my shoulders. I wasn't gonna make things better by just sitting around. So off I went. Where was I going? I honestly didn't know.

I walked around town for a while when I started feeling thirsty. So I headed to a nearby gas station. I walked inside and grabbed a bottle of water. I've never so thankful that I left my wallet in my bag. The cashier rang me up, I paid, then left.

I didn't know where to go now. I walked around town, visiting the park and shoos to pas the time, until the sun started to set. I knew of a old motel nearby and I headed that way, knowing a nice hotel would cost me most if my money. When I arrived, I open the door and sighed at the sight if the place. It wasn't the nicest or cleanest place to stay but I had no other choice.

"One room please." I told the man at the front desk.

He eyed me for a moment. "How long you staying?"

"Just tonight." I replied.

The man nodded and handed me a key. I paid him then went to find my room. It was dusty, a couple of cobwebs here and there. I took my backpack off and sat on the bed. It was rickety and hard and the blankets felt old and scratchy. I sighed and lied down. As soon as my head hit the pillow, more tears started to flow as if the realization of what had happened had suddenly hit me.

I was homeless.

I knew the risk I had taken. Every song I listened to, every time I opened my bible was another risk of being caught. Eleven years. What made me think I could hide my faith for eleven years?

Now I was alone. I had no home. My life had changed in a matter of minutes in a way I never wanted. I could help but wonder if I hadn't played that song.......would I still be home?

I closed my eyes and after a couple of hours of lying in the dark, I eventually fell asleep.