Original Fiction: Broken [12/14]
Title: Original Fiction: Broken [12/14]
Author: meiloslyther
Rating: R
Warning: Mention of self-harm, drug abuse, underage drinking, and dub-con.
POV: 1st, Chance
Summary: Chance, 18 years old and the main character, has multiple mental disorders, all of which are either undiagnosed or untreated, and lives with his best friend, Nate. Nate, 17, is mostly sane and logical, but tends to be oblivious to the hell going on around him. Megan, Nate's troubled 16 year old girlfriend, has problems with her mother because of her issues with men and dated Chance a few years prior. This is their story.
Word Count: 782 [this part]; 8,753 [total]
Author Notes: Based on semi-realistic events that happened to either myself or my friends.
Ch. 1 : Ch. 2 : Ch. 3 : Ch. 4 : Ch. 5 : Ch. 6 : Ch. 7
Ch. 8 : Ch. 9 : Ch. 10 : Ch. 11 : Ch. 13 : Ch. 14
I do not care about her. I do not care about her. I do not care about her.
I repeated this in my head almost the whole time I was at work. I told myself to let it go. I told myself to hate her and shut the fuck up. I told myself to let Nate deal with her and get on with my fucking life.
I had almost gotten her out of my head by the time I got home. Unfortunately, as I stepped into the apartment, there she was, sitting on MY couch, drinking MY alcohol, hogging MY god.
I wanted to punch her. Not just for being there and everything, but for making me feel so fucking confused too.
"Hey guys."
They turned from the computer and greeted me back. They were listening to some crappy emo music and reading comics on the internet.
"Hey, man, we were just about to go for a walk. Wanna come with us?"
We. Us. He made it sound like they were married.
"We rolled a bunch of smokes."
Now, THAT, I couldn't refuse.
"Sure, whatever. Lemme get changed and stuff."
I stepped into the bathroom and changed out of my grimy work uniform and slipped into my favorite cut off jeans and sharpied T-shirt. I picked at a scab I had gotten last week cleaning the stove at work and the burn from putting out my cigarette on my hand before running my fingers through my shaggy mohawk.
As I stared at myself in the mirror, I couldn't help but see her face instead. Those muddy green eyes. The short mop of auburn hair. Those plump, pink lips that never seemed to close all the way, showing a glimpse of those nicotine stained teeth. Those oh-so-typical thick framed, black plastic glasses.
I shook myself before leaving the bathroom. What am I thinking?
"Ready?"
I nodded as I grabbed my trenchcoat from the back of the couch. I checked my pockets for my effects: my red BIC, my pocketknife, and my cigarette case. The case was empty, but Nate was offering me three of the eight he had rolled.
"Let's go."
We stepped out into the warm summer night, each of us with a cigarette in hand. It was kind of funny, considering I was the only one old enough to smoke. Nate was seventeen. She was sixteen.
We struck up a meaningless conversation as we made our way for the woods. We had this neat little clearing deep in the forest where we could go and smoke, drink, get high, or whatever. It was kinda hard to get to in the dark, and if she didn't have us around, she'd never find her way around, but we made it. We sat and talked for a while, smoking, lounging on the fallen, rotting logs.
"I need to get back home soon."
Nate and I looked at her, and then at each other. Someone was going to have to walk her out of the woods, but neither of us wanted to leave.
"I'll walk you back."
I don't know what made me say it. I don't even know if I wanted to say it. But I said it.
I led her back through the thick woods and intended to part ways with her at the edge of the parking lot. But something called to me. Something urged me to go back into the apartment with her. Something... or someone.
"Hey, Chance, I wanna show you something. Come here."
I was blindsided. Without even stopping to think, I followed her lead into Nate's room. It seemed such an innocent request. Such an innocent action. Oh, how I was wrong.
As soon as we were both inside she turned on me and grabbed the front of my shirt. Closing the door behind me with one hand, she pulled me closer with the other fisted in my shirt. Our lips met once... twice... I realized she was no longer restraining me, but holding me, and my hands had unconsciously wandered to her slim waist.
It was almost too late when I stopped her from undoing my pants, panting for breath.
"What about Nate?"
She smiled, that sweet smile I knew so well. "He already knows." She unzipped her pants and let them fall; I realized she was completely naked now. "He's letting me... letting us."
I opened my mouth to respond but she was already undoing my pants with one hand. "W-wait."
She shook her head at me and the evil smile returned. "Fuck me, Chance." My pants were gone and she pushed me down onto the bed. "I know you want me."
-----------------------------------------
A/N: More of my work here.
Author: meiloslyther
Rating: R
Warning: Mention of self-harm, drug abuse, underage drinking, and dub-con.
POV: 1st, Chance
Summary: Chance, 18 years old and the main character, has multiple mental disorders, all of which are either undiagnosed or untreated, and lives with his best friend, Nate. Nate, 17, is mostly sane and logical, but tends to be oblivious to the hell going on around him. Megan, Nate's troubled 16 year old girlfriend, has problems with her mother because of her issues with men and dated Chance a few years prior. This is their story.
Word Count: 782 [this part]; 8,753 [total]
Author Notes: Based on semi-realistic events that happened to either myself or my friends.
Ch. 1 : Ch. 2 : Ch. 3 : Ch. 4 : Ch. 5 : Ch. 6 : Ch. 7
Ch. 8 : Ch. 9 : Ch. 10 : Ch. 11 : Ch. 13 : Ch. 14
I do not care about her. I do not care about her. I do not care about her.
I repeated this in my head almost the whole time I was at work. I told myself to let it go. I told myself to hate her and shut the fuck up. I told myself to let Nate deal with her and get on with my fucking life.
I had almost gotten her out of my head by the time I got home. Unfortunately, as I stepped into the apartment, there she was, sitting on MY couch, drinking MY alcohol, hogging MY god.
I wanted to punch her. Not just for being there and everything, but for making me feel so fucking confused too.
"Hey guys."
They turned from the computer and greeted me back. They were listening to some crappy emo music and reading comics on the internet.
"Hey, man, we were just about to go for a walk. Wanna come with us?"
We. Us. He made it sound like they were married.
"We rolled a bunch of smokes."
Now, THAT, I couldn't refuse.
"Sure, whatever. Lemme get changed and stuff."
I stepped into the bathroom and changed out of my grimy work uniform and slipped into my favorite cut off jeans and sharpied T-shirt. I picked at a scab I had gotten last week cleaning the stove at work and the burn from putting out my cigarette on my hand before running my fingers through my shaggy mohawk.
As I stared at myself in the mirror, I couldn't help but see her face instead. Those muddy green eyes. The short mop of auburn hair. Those plump, pink lips that never seemed to close all the way, showing a glimpse of those nicotine stained teeth. Those oh-so-typical thick framed, black plastic glasses.
I shook myself before leaving the bathroom. What am I thinking?
"Ready?"
I nodded as I grabbed my trenchcoat from the back of the couch. I checked my pockets for my effects: my red BIC, my pocketknife, and my cigarette case. The case was empty, but Nate was offering me three of the eight he had rolled.
"Let's go."
We stepped out into the warm summer night, each of us with a cigarette in hand. It was kind of funny, considering I was the only one old enough to smoke. Nate was seventeen. She was sixteen.
We struck up a meaningless conversation as we made our way for the woods. We had this neat little clearing deep in the forest where we could go and smoke, drink, get high, or whatever. It was kinda hard to get to in the dark, and if she didn't have us around, she'd never find her way around, but we made it. We sat and talked for a while, smoking, lounging on the fallen, rotting logs.
"I need to get back home soon."
Nate and I looked at her, and then at each other. Someone was going to have to walk her out of the woods, but neither of us wanted to leave.
"I'll walk you back."
I don't know what made me say it. I don't even know if I wanted to say it. But I said it.
I led her back through the thick woods and intended to part ways with her at the edge of the parking lot. But something called to me. Something urged me to go back into the apartment with her. Something... or someone.
"Hey, Chance, I wanna show you something. Come here."
I was blindsided. Without even stopping to think, I followed her lead into Nate's room. It seemed such an innocent request. Such an innocent action. Oh, how I was wrong.
As soon as we were both inside she turned on me and grabbed the front of my shirt. Closing the door behind me with one hand, she pulled me closer with the other fisted in my shirt. Our lips met once... twice... I realized she was no longer restraining me, but holding me, and my hands had unconsciously wandered to her slim waist.
It was almost too late when I stopped her from undoing my pants, panting for breath.
"What about Nate?"
She smiled, that sweet smile I knew so well. "He already knows." She unzipped her pants and let them fall; I realized she was completely naked now. "He's letting me... letting us."
I opened my mouth to respond but she was already undoing my pants with one hand. "W-wait."
She shook her head at me and the evil smile returned. "Fuck me, Chance." My pants were gone and she pushed me down onto the bed. "I know you want me."
-----------------------------------------
A/N: More of my work here.