(no subject)
The last two months had been hard on Holly. She’d stayed with Larry and tried to keep him relatively happy while trying to balance her last few months of school. He’d started to push her into things - harder things, things that she didn’t like one bit. But she couldn’t leave until her schooling was done; she’d made herself that promise. She wouldn’t become like her mother. Larry’s ‘movies’ had started to take their toll, but she’d still done at least moderately well on her exams. Well enough to pass.
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Most young girls, upon finishing up with their last year of school and attending the commencement ceremonies, were more worried about how their hair would look for the subsequent prom.
Holly Jobson was not.
She pressed into the living room, having walked home from the commencement area after a fight with Larry and her mother over the very idea of her leaving the house. It was no surprise that within seconds Larry was looming over her, angry and red-faced. His nose shared a similar colour, and so Holly wondered if he hadn’t had a glass or two. The answer was probably ‘yes’, as it often was. Larry drank frequently. Hell, so did her mother.
Holly began to walk away only to hear a bottle shattering next to her right ear. Half-full, even. She sped her walking, though she could hear Larry’s heavy footsteps following close behind her. The stairs slow him somewhat, naturally…it’s difficult for him to get up them in his half-intoxicated state. She threw the door to her room shut and barricaded it with a chair, frantically dragging the suitcase she’d packed the night before from under her bed and shoving last-minute things into it. More clothing, some letters she’d written over the few months she’d been trapped here … and of course, the stuffed giraffe. This done, and with the banging and crashing into the door causing the wood to splinter and crack, she took a deep breath and opened the door, hoping against hope that it would lead her straight back to Milliways.
What she was faced with was a fist aimed well for her face - she didn’t have time to react to it. When Larry hit and actually landed his punches, they were meant to damage. It was shocking how much blood there was from just the small cut against the soft tissue above her eye - it looked like someone had shot her, and it cascaded down her face.
"Get the f-fuck away from me, Larry!" She knew she had very little time until she’d be blinded from the blood flow. The suitcase came up in a hard arc and she smacked him as hard as she could manage with it, knocking him just off-balance enough that she could bolt past him. Her mother made a weak protest, but she made it out of the front door …
… only to find herself in Milliways. Surprisingly calmly, she wandered over to a stool and slumped, emotionally and physically exhausted, not to mention the blood.
----
Most young girls, upon finishing up with their last year of school and attending the commencement ceremonies, were more worried about how their hair would look for the subsequent prom.
Holly Jobson was not.
She pressed into the living room, having walked home from the commencement area after a fight with Larry and her mother over the very idea of her leaving the house. It was no surprise that within seconds Larry was looming over her, angry and red-faced. His nose shared a similar colour, and so Holly wondered if he hadn’t had a glass or two. The answer was probably ‘yes’, as it often was. Larry drank frequently. Hell, so did her mother.
Holly began to walk away only to hear a bottle shattering next to her right ear. Half-full, even. She sped her walking, though she could hear Larry’s heavy footsteps following close behind her. The stairs slow him somewhat, naturally…it’s difficult for him to get up them in his half-intoxicated state. She threw the door to her room shut and barricaded it with a chair, frantically dragging the suitcase she’d packed the night before from under her bed and shoving last-minute things into it. More clothing, some letters she’d written over the few months she’d been trapped here … and of course, the stuffed giraffe. This done, and with the banging and crashing into the door causing the wood to splinter and crack, she took a deep breath and opened the door, hoping against hope that it would lead her straight back to Milliways.
What she was faced with was a fist aimed well for her face - she didn’t have time to react to it. When Larry hit and actually landed his punches, they were meant to damage. It was shocking how much blood there was from just the small cut against the soft tissue above her eye - it looked like someone had shot her, and it cascaded down her face.
"Get the f-fuck away from me, Larry!" She knew she had very little time until she’d be blinded from the blood flow. The suitcase came up in a hard arc and she smacked him as hard as she could manage with it, knocking him just off-balance enough that she could bolt past him. Her mother made a weak protest, but she made it out of the front door …
… only to find herself in Milliways. Surprisingly calmly, she wandered over to a stool and slumped, emotionally and physically exhausted, not to mention the blood.