Chapter Text
'Humans constantly feel pain in their hearts. Because the heart is so sensitive to pain, humans feel that to live is to suffer. Their hearts are delicate, like glass, yours especially.'
- Kaworu Nagisa.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───
Lottie Sykes hated dance class. It should have been bouncy charlestons, exotic flamencos and elegant waltzes like she'd seen on Come Dancing last night. What she got was a torturous hour of being swung round the school's main hall by Damien bloody Blackmoore. God, she hated that boy. He thought it was infinitely entertaining to grab her by the arms and go round and round and round until suddenly letting go, making her fall flat on her arse as Damien, his stupid mates and usually the rest of the class laughed at her as she lay crumpled on the floor.
It was the last lesson but one, drizzling outside and already turning dark. Lottie was sleepy; she’d been up all night playing her electric guitar, with headphones in, of course. She’d been trying to nail down All Along the Watchtower and had got the first sheet right, albeit at the expense of a night’s sleep. The hall was hot, too, only making her fight against nodding off even harder.
Fortunately, the dance teacher, Miss Simmons, had given them all a 5-minute breather. Unfortunately, Maisy Jones decided this was a cracking moment to pick on her. Teachers thought Maisy was god’s gift to state schooling; always helping hand out books, neat hair, glossed nails. She used three pens to make impeccably neat diagrams and drew patterns on her books to make them look even snappier. But when the teachers weren’t looking, Maisy was an utter cow. Lottie hated her. She was always making fun of her mum for being fat.
Lottie braced herself as Maisy and her flock of cows-in-training loomed over her. She paused and looked up.
‘What?’ She scowled.
‘Oh nothing, Lottie.’ She said with syrupy sweetness. ‘Just wanted to see how my favourite little spod is.’
Lottie looked up at her warily. ‘Sod off.’ She grumbled
Maisy feigned hurt, theatrically clutching a hand over her chest. ‘Such rudeness! I suppose I do need to go, but before I do, I did have a question for you, Lottie-kins.’
‘Don’t call me that’ Lottie growled.
‘So tetchy! Anyway, can i ask my question?'
She sighed. 'Fine.'
'You know how your mum is fat? I was wondering if you have to grease the bathtub before she gets in it?' Maisy and all her cronies laughed as they always did.
In all fairness, Lottie's mum was huge. She had to have her clothes specially made. Lottie hated being seen with her, she hated the way little kids would point at them and imitate her mum's waddling, she hated having to wait every 2 mintues for her mum to take a breather. Lottie loved her mum, she really did, but she would use any excuse to avoid being with her in public.
'I want for a five mile jog yesterday.' Maisy grinned. 'Two laps around Lottie's mum.'
'That's so funny, Maisy. Even funnier than yesterday.' Lottie bit out.
She wasn't one of the tough kids at school, really anything but. However, things had always happened to Lottie that made most kids steer clear unless it was to rib her. She could never explain these things, nor could anyone else, like how when Lewis Fry had pushed her over for a laugh in year 4, but had then found his heavily greased hair to spontaneously catch alight, or when she had been chased by a group of mean boys in her year over christmas and had somehow fallen through a fence into an old lady's back garden with no hole showing when she looked back.
This was the main reason why Lottie was a social outcast. She didn't want things to happen, it made her weird. Next dance class she'd steer well clear off Maisy Jones and her posse.
Then, she felt a shove to her shoulder and yelped as she toppled over onto her arse, not for the first time this lesson.
'Oi! Spod! I was saying, your mum is so fat that-' Lottie had enough. She sprang up and got right in Maisy's face.
'Can you bloody well leave me alone!?' Lottie shouted at the taller girl murderously, stepping forward so they were nose to nose.
The hall went quiet, and every single pair of eyes swivelled towards the action.
'What's wrong Lottie?' Maisy grinned. 'Can't take a joke?'
Lottie struck first, cracking Maisy across her jaw with a balled fist, sending her sprawling onto the floor.
'Charlotte! Go back to Damien and get dancing again!' Miss Simmons bellowed from across the room.
Maisy, now red in the face, furiosuly sprang up and gave Lottie a shove. She tripped over her own feet and tumbled back against the wall, hitting the back of her head.
She shakily got back up, her head dully throbbing. Lottie seethed at both the teasing and the lack of intervention. 'You say one more word, Maisy, I'll...'
Lottie had never been blessed with the art of the witty retort.
'I'll, I'll bloody-'
'You'll do what Lottie?' Maisy grinned, now recovered from the ego loss Lottie's punch had given her. 'Go home and get a cuddle from big fat mummy and cry into her waterbed belly?'
Lottie hated it, she wanted to see something other than that shit-eating grin on Maisy's face. With seemingly inhumane strength, the smaller girl grabbed Maisy by the pony tail and swung her hard. She wanted to get rid of the grin. She was hurt, confused, her head throbbed fiercly, She kept swinging Maisy round and round with imense strength as Maisy screamed and everyone elese stared with shock and horror. Eventually, Lottie lost grip on the ponytail and Maisy was flung and dashed against the limewashed wall.
Breathing shakily out her nose and wracked with angry sobs, Lottie stared at the few strands of Maisy's hair still in her hand and then at the girl, who was sobbing awfully, cupping a massive gash in her forehead which blood now ran down aswell as a mangled looking nose. Lottie froze in shock, She backed away, scared as she saw a red splatter on the white wall where Maisy head impacted head first.
'Charlotte Sykes! you are in a mountain of trouble!' Miss Simmons bellowed, storming over like an angry bull.
Everyone in Lottie's class was making some sort of noise. Lottie couldn't acknowledge what she'd done. She hadn't meant to, it was just one of the odd things she couldn't explain. She made a run for the fire door, but not before Miss Simmons grabbed her by the collar of her P.E. uniform.
'Where on earth do you think you're going?!'
'Get out of my way!' Lottie shouted.
She gave Simmons another impossibly large shove, and the stocky woman fell back a few feet as if hit by a car. She broke through the fire door, sounding the alarm in the process. To the backdrop of blaring screeches form both students, teachers and alarms, she sprinted towards the main gate, already seeing Miss Simmons and another teacher named Mr Shore running after. The gate was locked so Lottie sprinted round to the barrier for the teacher's car park she tripped once but just as she heard the two pursuers getting closer and feeling one the teacher's hands graze her ankle as she hurdled over it like a fleeing antelope and sprinted off down the street.
After a couple of minutes, Lottie slowed down, still storming mad. However, as she put more distance between herself and the school, her anger turned into being extremely scared as it dawned that she was probably in the deepest trouble of her short life. She would turn 11 in two weeks but was seriously wondering if she'd live that long. Her mum was going to absolutely murder her. She'd definitely get suspended, if not outright expelled. As she trudged past the nearby play park, she checked her watch. It was far too early to go home, mum would know something was up. She had a bit of money on her, but when she checked the one pocket in her P.E skirt, she realised she must have left the change in her coat, which was back at school. Brilliant, she couldn't even wait out the rain in the dingy chip shop round the corner - Raj, the owner, hated it when the estate's young urchins lurked in the shop without buying anything.
As such, Lottie arrived at her only option being to wait in the metal tunnel of the playpark, sheltering from the rain till it was late enough to show her face at home. The tunnel was alot smaller than she remembered, and in order to fit in she had to fold herself uncomfortably. From what little light there was she could see graffiti over the walls. The tunnel also smelled like a dog - hopefully a dog - had peed in it. Lottie snorted apathetically, she thought she deserved to be somewhere cold that smelled like dog.
She was shivering in her P.E. uniform, just a thin shirt and skirt with a pair of black plimsoles. She shuddered and rubbed her hands to get warm and remembered when she was little. Her mum was nowhere near as fat in those days and her dad was still around. They would crouch down at either end of the tunnel whilst she was inside it and say with a deep voice, We're coming to get you, Lottie!. Lottie had loved it, because the tunnel made this fantastic echo when you were in it. She decided to try it out.
'I'm an absolute plank.' The echo agreed with her.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───
After a decent bit of simmering in her own self pity, Lottie checked her watch once more; five past three. Now she had two options available to her; stay in the tunnel for eternity or go home and get killed. Deciding that the cold dog smell was getting rather old, Lottie chose the latter and emerged from the tunnel to see the rain had gone from a drizzle to a downpoor. The wind had picked up too, making it the kind of rain the fell sideways and hurt any exposed skin with marble sized drops.
As such, Lottie was in a bit of a rush as she scuttled through the estate to the flat where she lived. Cleveham was not even particularly noticeable amongst the late-industrial midlands towns, not that Lottie could see it anyways with the rain being as it was. Eventually, Lottie arrived at the flat. Thankfully, her mum must have left it unlocked, as she quietly pushed the door open and stepped into the threshold, faintly aware of the water literally dripping off of her. The better news was that her mum didn't seem to be ready for her, which meant she must not know what had happened.
She could hear the telly and two people talking. Lottie recognised one voice as her mum's but couldn't make out the other, until she recognised Clive's raggy old coat on the rack.
Lottie swore to herself. Clive had shown up after Lottie's mum and dad split, after which the man promptly dissapeared only to show once every two years or so. Having Clive around was like having a big, smelly dog in the house. The only things he did were smoke, drink and palm money from her mum. He only went out to go to the pub and the last time he had had a job was as a butter spreader for pre-made sandwiches, and that only lasted a couple of weeks before he quit.
Lottie detested Clive and thought of him as a creep and an idiot. He looked at her funny which was why Lottie always tried to avoid him. It was a mystery to Lottie as to why her mum had married Clive and stayed with him long enough to give birth to his daughter. Even stranger still, they had never divorced despite Clive only showing his face every few weeks supposedly to see his daughter, Lucy. Although he only came round when Lucy was at school and he needed tiding over till his next benefits check could roll in.
Lottie braced herself and stepped into the living room. She saw Amy, her mum, spread out on the sofa with one leg on a stool wrapped with bandages due to her recent operation. Clive was next to her in Lottie's dad's old armchair, feet on the coffee table and puffing away like a chimney, Lottie could see the thick layer of smoke that blanketed the top of the dingy room. Lottie felt her anger bubbling as she saw several empty bottles of wine on the table.
'Mum, you're not supposed to drink when you're on your meds.' She gritted out, so annoyed she forgot her own problems for a second.
Upon noticing her, Clive grinned and straightened up, taking another drag from the fag hanging from his thin lips. 'Hello sugarplum, Daddy's home.'
Lottie shuddered but held her ground. 'Don't bloody call me that. and you're not my dad, Clive.'
Clive looked her up and down for a little to long, especially lingering on the hem of her P.E skirt. 'No, I'm not. Your's legged it as soon as he realised how ugly his kid was!' He cackled as he took another puff from his fag.
Lottie swallowed the slightly sick feeling she had and decided to change the subject before the two got into another row. She didn't want to talk about school infront of Clive, but the guilt of what happened was slowly eating away at her.
She turned to her Mum, who was looking between her and the television. 'Mum, something happened at school - an accident.'
'Finally started bleeding, did ya?' Clive smirked from the armchair.
Lottie, aghast and now slightly green, stepped closer to the sofa and her mum.
Finally, Amy snapped her gaze from the telly and looked at her eldest daughter. 'Listen, Lottie Love.' Amy said, slurring her words due to all the drink. 'Whatever you've done we can talk later. Right now i need you to go get your sister. I've 'ad a few to many and i can't drive.'
Lottie swallowed. 'Mum, it's really serious, i need to talk about-'
'Go get your sister, Lottie.' Her mum snapped at her. 'Now, me head is pounding and you're making it worse.'
Lottie scowled. 'Lucy's old enough to walk home on her own.'
'She isn't' Clive interupted. 'Go now, or you'll find my boot up that backside of yours.'
She turned to him, anger bubbling again. 'Yes, because god forbid you go to get your own daughter. You're a sad twat of a father.' Lottie turned to her mum. 'How much does he need this time.'
Before Amy could answer, Clive stood up. 'Say that again you little bint.' He growled as he made her way over to her.
Luckily, Amy had finally had enough. 'Clive. Sit down. Lottie, go get your sister. I won't say it again.' She then cleared her throat of phlegm. 'Grab some money from me purse and buy tea, I can't be arsed to cook tonight.'
'But...'
'Out, Now, Lottie. Before i lose my temper.'
Lottie couldn't wait till she was old enough to leave. Her mum was alright when Clive wasn't around. But the remote chance of Clive ever coming around was enough to make Lottie atleast mildly uncomfortable. She found her mum's purse in the kitchen and took a twenty. five would be enough for her tea but she took the twenty to spite Clive - Amy never left money lying around that she didn't expect him to steal.
She stormed up the stairs to change out of her soaked P.E uniform, which to her horror, realised that because it was white, had become semi-see through due to the rain. Hurriedly, she threw it off and changed into a pair of dark loose jeans and a t shirt from that new show Sesame Street with Ernie and Bert emblazened across the chest. She ran back downstairs and threw a raincoat and a pair of wellies on before she dashed out the door.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───