Life isn't what you predict it will be. Usually, it has different plans in mind for you. And you never know where you will end up. Or who you end up to be.
This is me. How I become me. In its most purest form. For the first and the last time.
Any questions asked and it'll be your last.
"Who are you to judge the life I live? I know I am not perfect-and I don't live to be. But before you start pointing fingers, make sure your hands are clean."~Bob Marley
Fanfiction > Backstreet Boys Characters:
Action, Adventure, Alternate Universe, DramaWarnings:
1. Chapter 1 - Sweet Child O'Mine by Jellicle
2. Chapter 2 - The Rebel With A Cause by Jellicle
Chapter 1 - Sweet Child O'Mine by Jellicle
Another hot midsummer’s day. Sun was right in the middle of the sky, shining bright. A little too bright, even. It was burning my back as I kept swinging back and forth slowly on the swing my dad made for me. I didn’t care about the heat or the sweat forming in my neck at all, swinging was my biggest joy ever.
I was a happy girl, once. Living in the suburban of the mid west with my beloved parents. It was just another normal American life really. Quiet, peaceful, good weather usually.
I can still smell the lilies in the air like it was yesterday.
I saw my parents getting out of the house, both dressed in white summer clothes, looking beautiful. To this day, I’ve never seen any other couple that was just as perfect as they were. My mom kneeled in front of me and held the sides of the swing to stop it altogether. I looked up and her eyes, the exact green shade as mine, looked right into the depths of my soul.
“We’ll be gone for a couple of hours sweetheart,” she said as a huge smile brightened her face. “I promise to be back before supper.”
I pouted but nodded slowly. I really wanted to go with them to wherever they were going. “But just have a good time with your Grandma Marge until we come back alright?”
I drifted my eyes from her towards the porch, where Grandma Marge was standing and smiling warmly at me. I loved her home made cookies. See, both my parents were not coming from big and whole families at all and I didn’t have any brothers or sisters so the only relative I knew I had was my Grandma Marge, who’s been a part of our small family since I was born.
As I said, I was a happy little suburban girl. Once.
My mom leaned towards me and placed a soft kiss on my cheek, inhaling my scent at the same time. It always tickled me; I let out a soft laugh. This made my mom laugh even more.
My dad was standing right next to her, the most handsome man I’ve ever seen in my life. He ruffled my hair and pulled my mom back on her feet. “Be a good girl, kiddo. We love you.” he said before putting her arm around my mom’s waist and escorting her towards the car.
They got into their old beaten Ford Cabriolet, which my dad was so proud of. The minute he started the engine and pulled out from the garage way, I got up from my swing and ran to the street. This was a ritual we never missed.
The sun was blinding me with its brightness but I shaded my eyes with my hand. As they drove away, I heard three horns being honked and raised my left hand to wave.
The sun was too bright, blinding me. But I could still make their smiley faces, both turned towards where I was standing and waving at them. They kept waving until they drove to the crossing and I kept waving back.
The next thing I heard was a loud horn, sounds of stretched tires, shrieks and a loud crash. I didn’t see anything. The sun was blinding me.
A sudden cool breeze made me shiver uncontrollably.
This is the last memory I have of them.
Chapter 2 - The Rebel With A Cause by Jellicle
“Summer! Turn down the volume already!” I heard a loud yell from the downstairs.
“Shut the fuck up!” I yelled back through the loud music and shut the door loudly. “This is it. I’ve had enough of this shit already.” I hissed. Fucking foster homes. Like they knew how to be parents. Like they even cared about us. Only getting the monthly payment from the government and they were good to go.
For over a decade, I’ve spent most years of my childhood and early puberty almost like a turtle with its home on its back. Never being able to settle down in one place longer than half a year, I was probably one of the most problematic kids in the Social Services Department. I’ve been from town to town, city to city and even from state to state at some point but no one had the – well, balls I would say – to deal with me. I’ve lived many different lives with many different foster parents, from the good old country family in a farm to the single woman high up in her career but also looking for some charity work to the gay socialite couples and I’ve managed to turn each and every foster parent’s day into a living nightmare that at the end, it was either them begging the Services to take me back or I would ran away.
Just like I was planning to do so right now. I’ve had enough of this life and when I knew a most glamorous and well, full of action life awaited me out there, I couldn’t just sit on my ass in this hell’s hole.
I knew I was wrong and I was the one with problems, but I never admitted it. Which 17 year old does anyway?
I could still hear the loud yell of my foster mom from downstairs, going on and on about how irresponsible and arrogant and ill-mannered I was.
Tell me something I don’t know.
Checking myself one last time before the mirror and finally being satisfied with my look, I grab my duffel bag and headed out of the room and down the stairs, only to be stopped by my foster parent.
“Where are you going again?”
I sighed. “Out.”
“It’s a school night.” She sounded more calm now and even a little bit.. what do you say, regretful? “Why don’t you just stay home and get on with your school work, and then maybe we’ll watch a movie?”
Ah, here was the poor attempt of trying to communicate.
I plastered a fake grin on my face, fake enough for her to know that I didn’t give a rat’s ass. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
I saw the anger fueling in her eyes as her jaw clenched tightly. Then she noticed the duffel bag hanging from my shoulder.
“Oh so now you’re leaving the house, aren’t you?” she hissed, crossing her arms across her chest. “You think that sorry ass so called rock star boyfriend of yours is gonna be taking the responsibility of a 17 year old? How long do you think it’ll take him to get arrested when I call the cops and tell them he’s with an underage girl?”
I’ve heard this bullshit before. “Oh no you won’t.” I hissed back. “You know you won’t. We both know that you’re done dealing with me. And I’ll be 18 in a few days, just for your info.”
Something in my voice or probably something she saw in my eyes startled her and she backed away as I made my way towards the door.
“If you ever step outside the door, Summer, you can never come back.” Her voice was trembling. And no, not with sadness but more with anger. “You can never set foot in this house, ever again.”
Letting out a scoff, I grabbed the door handle and turned around to face her.
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