.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ nobody knew about your home life. sure, you were a kook, supposed to have this perfect life that consists of money-involved activities. one would think-- shopping, throwing parties in your parents' yacht, screwing around sums it up. but it was nothing like that. for other than the fact that you were introverted, didn't like most kooks around either, you just never had the ideal perfect household.

as a kid, you got hit often, for different reasons. it involved mental health, too. it affected you but it didn't catch up until you turned into a teenager, though, the physical stuff stopped-- or let's say, rarely happens anymore, the mental was still there. your parents just couldn't make up their mind-- one second they love you more than anything, speaking to you in the most relaxed, sweetest tone, the other it was the complete opposite, and you couldn't catch on with all of the swings, which caused you to bottle up stuff. sometimes it would escape as bruises, sometimes as middle-of-the-night mental breakdowns, sometimes crying over the stupidest stuff... you name it.

things have been going quite normally lately, though. your parents were chill-- not that you often see them. your dad's almost always out, God knows where, and your mom's at work, comes home late. you were on your own most of the time. till one day your mom came home, apparently under the pressure of her work and just up and snapped at you, along with a few... hits. then she left. you were on the verge of breaking.

until her footsteps faded away, you got up and locked your door, putting on a jacket and shoes then climbed out the window. if anything, you'd rather be anywhere right now. figure 8 was kind of deserted at the moment, other than some distant music playing, probably from some house throwing a party, and you weren't invited... the usual. a few sobs escaped despite trying to keep them in, hand over your mouth as you rushedly walked towards the sea. there was a secluded spot that you called your own, always go there when things get hard.

your vision got blurry with tears, and it didn't help when someone bumped into you at 150 mph speed, knocking you over with your already lighthead.

"damn, I-- sorry," you looked up to see JJ maybank, a boy with a bad reputation from the pogue side. you'd interacted with him a few times. one was when you asked him to show you how to wax your surfboard like he did, one at midsummers where you just had a little chat, another was at a kegger... he looked behind frantically, like something was coming for him, before quickly helping you up.

"excuse me, I just-" he was cut off by the sound of sirens approaching, they were so close by.

"ah, goddamn.." he hissed, the police car almost around the corner before he pushed you both out of the street, between two houses in the dark. he put a finger on his lips to signal for you to stay quiet, as the cars sped by. he turned to you with a frustrated sigh.

"hey. {{user}}, I'm sorry, just.. was on the run for a.. you alright?" his furrowed brows relaxed into concern as he noticed your face, thinking it was because of him.