I’m starting at a new school, again. The fifth school in three years. By far this one looks the worst. The front office is cramped and the air is stagnant, thick with the despair of teenagers past and of the cheap perfume radiating from the admin staff. It makes me feel sick. I want to get out.
My father beckons me over to sit in a threadbare fake suede chair. I sigh and walk over. I sink into the one farthest from my father, chuck my bag on the floor and lift my skinny legs clad in black jeans onto the vinyl coffee table. Dad looks at me in a way I know only too well, but have long-since stopped caring.
I think back to why I’m in a dingy front office at a school in a place I don’t care about.
I had started at my local high school and only ended up being there for around eighteen months. I started off as everyone does – a clueless year kid with shoes that are too big and an ego as small as the shorts that I was wearing, lost in the sea of teenagers. I began by getting good grades, hanging out with all the right people. I even took up guitar lessons and got pretty good. After the summer holidays, the beginning of year nine, my old friends started drifting away from me. I got in with a new group of people, who initially seemed nice – but they took drugs and went binge drinking on the weekends. I went with them because if they ditched me I’d have nowhere to go. I got high for the first time at one of their stoner parties and loved it. I got drunk with them at the same party and enjoyed the fuzziness in my head. Until the next morning, when my father found me desperately hung over and covered in last night’s drinks, those that I had spilled on myself when I was drunk and those that I had thrown up. He got aggressively mad, but blamed the group for peer-pressure. They got expelled. I tried to go back to my humble life, but I couldn't forget the feeling of being high. I sought around the school until I found someone else who had weed. We became buddies. Dad thought we were study buddies. I didn't protest. One night we decided to go to the local park to see if we could pick up girls, but police were there. We both got arrested for consumption and possession of drugs and dad had to bail me out of juvi after two days. My drug-buddy wasn't so lucky and couldn't get bail. The school found out and suspended me. Dad had taken me out of that school and enrolled me in a local Christian school and made me swear that I wouldn't go near drugs again. Of course I did.
I started at the Christian College in the middle of year nine. I made some friends, and a girlfriend. Things were finally looking up. Until my girlfriend and I went out one night. The guys that were expelled from my old school were at the same place. They beat me up. I had been expecting it but still I tried to protect my girlfriend; I couldn't. I pushed her behind me whilst they attacked me. I tried to beat them back but I couldn't do protect her and myself. My girlfriend ran away when I fell to the ground. They beat me until I fell unconscious. I woke up bloody and bruised in the morning. I went home; dad was really upset about it. Somehow he didn't blame me. I don’t know why he never blamed me for the drugs when it was clearly my fault. The Christian College forced me to seek help from their counsellor. I went thrice and refused to go anymore times after she wouldn't believe a word I said. She continually told me that only God would fix my sins. After smoking a joint in the main office, I was told to leave the school and to rot in hell with the rest of the sinners.
I went to another school in the next town over. The same things happened. I found myself with the wrong crowd, started drinking every weekend and smoking cigarettes most days. I discovered the wonders of the female body at this time too, and was regularly having drunk and unprotected sex. I brought a girl home one night, and my father smelled the alcohol and cigarettes permeating the house and walked in on myself and the girl. He started raging about how drunk sex is legally rape and was so mad with me so took me out of that school before I’d even been there six months. He turned to home schooling. Sufficed to say, I did nothing. I developed crippling anxiety and had dangerous mood swings. I, once again, found a marijuana dealer and became addicted. Dad finally lost it and said we were moving out of the city, and to the other side of the country.
That brings me here, sitting in the office of a massive high school somewhere in Yorkshire. We used to live in East London. I only live with my dad because my mother disappeared when I was eight; dad never explained what happened and I've never found it in me to care enough to ask. I did have an older brother. Hunter used to beat me and abuse me after mum went. Dad worked a lot to keep his mind off the grief. He left early in the morning and didn't come back until late at night, so never saw what Hunter did to me. At the ripe old age of eight, I was terrified to tell; I never understood why he beat me. I get it now: he took heroin during the day and when he was at home he was on a low, and got angry at everyone and everything. Pathetic. He was taken away by the police a few years ago, for buying and selling illegal drugs. Drugs seem to just be in our family. Who knows where Hunter is now. Could be dead for all I care. I never really held it against dad for the shit things that happened to my family, but I need to blame someone and he’s been the only one there. He was never mad at me for the amphetamines because he knew I needed a way out, and tried to support me. Maybe he was scared he’d lose me too.
Hey everyone! This is my first movella so...I hope its good! No one's ever read anything I've written, so I hope all my grammar is fine! Remember to favourite and spread this to all your friends!