Never getting tired of you

Nathan was a quiet lad with dark secrets. He never thought that anybody cared about him, he didn't have any friends until one day he met a girl who changed him and taught him how to love.


11. the night of the broken records

Mum came home early for once. Zoe had already left. I was slumped on the sofa, music still playing. She was drunk out of her head.

"Turn that racket off!" She bellowed. I went up to go to my room to turn it off but she beat me to it. She was trying to switch it off herself but she was just breaking it.

"Let me do it!" I begged, but she refused.

"Eurgh! This is pointless why do you have this anyway? Should sell, get a good price," she suggested, giving up and letting me sort it out.

"No..." I whispered under my breath. "Records make me feel worth something, it proves to me that life is still worth living..."

"That's so useless and stupid!" She cackled. I looked at her, her bony, tattooed body leaning on my wall with her thin strands of red hair tangled up in a scrunchie. I asked myself what she was to me. Nothing. "Give 'em here I know a man who will pay a good price for those!"

"I said no!" I snapped. She looked at me in horror, I instantly regretted it. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!" I repeated myself again and again. I was scared. She got one of the records out off the shelf unit. She pulled it out of the case and saw me squint. Her finger prints were smothering the thing. It was torture.

"This is what means oh so much to you?" She laughed in a miserable way. I nodded. She inspected it and then threw it to the ground. I saw it snap in half. I gasped. It took me a while to think she actually did that, it didn't make anything better. Maybe she just enjoyed seeing me suffer. I knelt down to the floor and picked up the two pieces. I felt like crying. She got out another one.

"Please stop!" I asked.

"Why should I? This is fun and it gets rid of the awful music," she laughed. I dug my head into my arms. I couldn't watch. Hurting me was bad enough but damaging what's mine really pushed me to the limit. I heard the sound of my vinyls colliding with the floor. It was painful. Mum looked at me.

"Why are you crying over a bunch a rubbish! It's just records! Pftt, you're pathetic!" She mocked me. "Don't be baby," she walked off and into the living room. I heard her crack open another bottle of wine. I felt sick. I opened my eyes finally to see a massacre of records, destroyed. Even the ones that weren't smashed, they still wouldn't work because they were either bent or scratched.

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