Masquerade {One Direction Fanfiction}

To miss Marley Byrne,

We wish to invite you to our yearly Masquerade and do hope you will be able to attend. Be at the ballroom of the Chertain Hotel on the 22nd at precisely eight o' clock sharp. Please wear your finest attire, for this is a formal get-together. We hope to see you there.

Those were the words that started this whole mess. Just a mysterious letter addressed to me anonymously. How did I get invited to a masquerade ball?

I’m a nobody. Just the daughter of a dead mother and a psycho drug dealing father. I have a bad feeling about this...


1. ~Scrap~

“Here,” my father shoves an old tattered bag into my hands, “I want you to deliver this to Dom”


I keep my eyes shifted towards my feet, not daring to meet my father’s gaze that lingered above. I haven’t had the courage to directly look at him since my mom passed away four years ago. When she died, dad lost it. He resorted to drug dealing and forced me along his own personal hell ride. I never asked for anything like this, nor did I ever see it coming. We used to be a normal, happy family. A caring and beautiful mother along with a strong handsome father. And of course me, their perfect little daughter.


“Marley, did you hear me?” he urgently says shaking my right forearm. I almost look up but catch myself and study my shoes more intensely than before, only offering my father a small, curt nod.


“Yes sir” I mutter, swinging the bag over my shoulder. I start to make my way to the front door to quickly run out and deliver whatever it is in this filthy bag to his “friend” but something stops me. It felt as though all my frustrations snapped at once and I had the urge to pour out all my thoughts to the man I came to fear in the past four years. Before I can think properly I blurt out something that I knew I’d regret instantly.


“Why do you do this to yourself?” I mumble, barely loud enough for him to hear.


“Excuse me?” he turns and grabs my face, jerking it up so that I had no choice but to match his gaze. His lifeless dull green eyes bore into my own as I squirmed under his touch.


“Mom wouldn’t have wanted this” I say a bit louder to prove my point. Only, I wish I had just shut up after the first outburst because I surely wasn’t helping the hole I was currently digging myself into.


I feel a sharp pain in my lower abdomen, causing me to stumble back in shock. I direct my attention to my father, whose fist was raised and clenched so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.


Before I can recollect myself I feel a prominent sting across my face, seeing only the blur of his hand as it travels across my cheek in a flashing fury. Instinctively my own hand raises and covers the freshly assaulted flesh.


“I didn’t ask for your goddamn opinion. I asked you to take those,” he points to the bag that was throw onto the floor and slumped into the corner of the room, “to Dominic now or so help me god..”


“You do nothing to change it, I know you don’t like this shit hole you brought us into! You’re still the same man who took me to the zoo when I was younger and showed me how to throw a football. Why do you choose to live in fear?”


“I’m not afraid, I’m doing what I have to do. I’m still your father and can tell you what to do whenever I please. This ‘shit hole’ that I brought us into has kept you under a stable roof and food in your stomach. So cut the bullshit Marley and get the fuck out now” he rages, his face turning a darker shade of red. I could see veins starting to form on his neck and his teeth clenching. He was down right pissed now but his words angered me even further.


“You don’t want to live like this, yet you don’t want to do anything about it!” I say as I pick up the beat up bag from the floor.


“Get the fuck out of my house and don’t bother delivering these,” he yanks the bag out of my grasp, “Don’t bother coming home tonight”


I huff angrily and hurry to my room. Grabbing my phone, coat and backpack with the small amount of money I saved up I practically sprinted to the front door slamming the door behind me screaming final profanities directed at my father.


I take the time to sigh heavily, combing my fingers through my cocoa hair. The chilly wind hits me instantly as I walked out the door, making me shiver. Tugging my coat on I start walking down the dead street. This wasn’t the first time I have been forbidden to come back home for the night and it surely won’t be the last. Still, I always find myself missing a roof over my head even if its only for one night, I hope.


The paved sidewalk was lit only by the weak illuminating lights that surrounded me. The moon was full and bright, giving me some sort of comfort for some reason I cannot explain.


Since I was younger I’ve always had this strange fascination with constellations and anything having to do with space, especially the moon. Gazing at a full moon always takes me away from reality and let’s me dream about the past and how things used to be. I miss it, but I know father will not listen to me no matter how hard I try.


My cheek is still stinging harshly and I know I should probably find some ice to put on it but I can’t be bothered to at the moment. The most I will get will probably be a big red welt but that’s not nearly as bad as some other things I’ve been through.


A car’s beaming lights blind me as it rushes past, the driver obviously in a hurry. I gaze around the lonesome streets with tiny shops lined along the sides. I only spot one other person walking and they seem to be either homeless or completely drunk so I decide to stay as far away as possible.


I need to find some place that provides at least semi shelter, it had began to drizzle already and I’m pretty sure it will get stronger soon. Spotting an abandoned alleyway I make my way over to it, checking to see if anyone or anything had already claimed a spot. Lucky for me it was empty and I could rest a tinsy bit easier tonight. The alleyway provided fairly well coverage from the rain, and I couldn’t complain in my situation anyway.


Settling down by a rancid smelling dumpster I lay out my coat and use it as my blanket. I used my backpack as a pillow and tried to get as comfortable as possible. The only sound I could hear was the pitter-patter of the steadily thickening rain that was falling all around me.


At least I’m not soaking wet, I think to myself. My phone begins vibrating in my pocket and I quickly pick it up, hoping my father has simmered down and will invited me back to the house. Yes I hate him and what he has become but I still believe there is genuine good buried somewhere deep inside him.


But much to my dismay it wasn’t my father’s name flashing on the tiny screen, but an unknown number. Perfect, that’s exactly what I want to be dealing with right now. Usually when an unknown number calls me it’s one of my father’s ‘friends’ that he gave my number to for some reason or another. I decide to ignore it and focus on getting as much rest as I can.

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