Things with my family have always been pretty bad, I mean, I'm just sure I was picked off the street by my parents, because I'm so unlike them. And I can never agree with my sister, Cassie, or my horrible stepdad, who shall remain UNNAMED. My mum said it was 'just teenage hormones' but I can tell you, it was a lot more than that. It didn't happen once in a while, it happened everyday. Everyday there was some argument or another. If the argument was between my mum and my stepdad, he'd sometimes hit her. He’d also take it out on me by hitting me. The first time, I thought it was never going to happen again, that my stepdad had just got a little narked, but it happened once every week, then once every three days, then once everyday. And then, my mum started hurting me too..
We hoped that the move would calm us all down for a bit. We moved in to a cute little house near the sea in Southend, and though it was miles away from London, where our old house was, I didn't think I'd miss it much.
On the journey, it was terrible. My sister kept throwing up, my mum and stepdad kept shouting, and I couldn't get any peace. I put on the Foo Fighters and Blink 182 and tried to forget about it. But it didn't work. When we got to the house, we all went to separate rooms. My mum tried to bring us together, but I just thought 'Sod that,' and went out on my skateboard along the pier.
The next week, I had to go to school. I hated it. The kids all stared at me, the teachers hated me, I got detention 5 times in 2 weeks, and the teacher got narked cus I failed my first French vocab test. I was a true loner. I didn't have any friends, at home or at school. I didn't go to any clubs after school, so I didn't have any mates after school. I just sat with my skateboard on the beach.
Weeks later, I really felt like committing suicide. I was lonely, hurt and my spirit was totally broken. I looked at myself in the mirror each night. My face was kind of pale, but then again it always was. I had bruises, and cuts on every spare inch of skin. Worst of all, I could feel my ribs for the first time in 5 years. I wasn't eating much, but I never knew what it could do to me.
The next day, I told my mum I'd be going to school as usual. She looked at me suspiciously, but let me out as she always did. As soon as I ran out of the door, something in me snapped. I decided not to go to school. It felt kind of nice to have something I was in control of in my life. Infact, I felt great.
I skipped school on Monday, and then Wednesday, and Thursday. At first I thought nothing of it, but then, Mum received a phone call from school. 'Ms Jackson,' I could hear on the extension, 'we've called to talk about your daughter, Francesca.'
I ran to my room and locked the door shut.
'Where the fuck were you?' my mum shouted. 'How fucking dare you! You know what, ever since before we moved, infact, ever since before I divorced your dad, no, ever since you were born, you've been nothing but trouble! I FUCKING HATE YOU! You're not my daughter.'
The last words particularly stung. Mum had said she'd hated me before, but never had she claimed I wasn't her daughter. My eyes prickled, and I decided not to stand for it. I grabbed most of my possessions, some food, crammed them into my now empty school bag, grabbed my skateboard, and ran away.
I sat up. My cheeks were wet from crying. I was in a house. Not my house, though. But not somewhere too far away. My skateboard and bag were propped up with an acoustic guitar in the corner. On the walls were posters of Michael Jackson and Britney. 'Where am I?' I thought to myself, worriedly. For all I knew, I could have been drugged and raped while I was asleep. I slumped down on the bed, and felt someone stroking my hair.
'Hey,' said a voice. A boy was staring into my face. He had blonde hair, striking blue eyes and loads of freckles. He looked friendly.
'Hey,' I said weakly.
'We found you lying on the road fast asleep,' the boy said, wiping a tear from my cheek. 'What's your name?'
'Frankie,' I said. I thought for a bit. 'But I don't have a surname.'
'Ok,' he said, pulling me up so I was facing him. 'I'm James. This is my house. For now you'll be safe.'
I let myself fall into the boy's arms. I felt kind of safe there. I suddenly thought of my sister, of the pain she was going through, still at home while I had selfishly escaped. I burst into tears and left a huge wet patch on this guy's hoodie. He pulled away for a minute, but then he gave me a huge hug. 'It's alright, you can cry on me.'
I got to know this guy a little bit more.. Actually, we chatted for practically the whole day. His name was James Bourne, and he was 15, and in the same year as me at school.. He played the guitar and admitted that although he liked Blink 182, like me, he was kind of an obsessed fan of Michael Jackson. He was really funny, and nice. And not to mention, he was quite fit.
I stayed over at James’ house for maybe a few days. I got to know the rest of his family, and they were really warm and welcoming, except for his 13 year old brother, Nick, who called me ‘his girlfriend’. That night, at dinner, James’ mum asked me something.
‘Frankie, don’t you think your parents will be worried about you?’
I suddenly went white. ‘My… …parents?’
‘Yes,’ she smiled. ‘I’m sure no parent in their right mind would not be worried now, I mean, if my daughter were away from home for four days, I’d be frantic.’
I felt my eyes prickle. Although I didn’t want to go home, I knew I might eventually have to. Face the terror again.
‘My mum doesn’t care about me. She says I’m not her daughter.’ I said, confidently.
‘Has James been brainwashing you so you can’t leave? He’s crazy about you.’
James blushed. I looked over at him, but he turned away. ‘Crazy? He’s not just crazy, he’s obsessed, that’s what I call it,’ said Nick, stabbing at a carrot. ‘He talks about you like he has….’
James blushed again, but this time redder. ‘I think you should go home tonight, Frankie. Your mum would love to see you again. Where do you live?’ Mrs Bourne asked.
James and I froze. I knew I was being punished for running away, and James knew I couldn’t go back.
‘I….’ I started.
‘SHE CAN’T GO HOME!’ James suddenly shouted angrily, ‘DO YOU KNOW WHAT HER MUM DOES TO HER? THEY’RE ABUSING HER! MUM, PLEASE!’
The whole family looked at him, shocked. ‘I think we need to talk, Frankie,’ said Mrs Bourne.
I sat alone with James’ mum. I could sense James’ presence for some reason.
‘James,’ his mum started, ‘he’s a funny lad. But he says you’re being abused at home, which is a very serious thing if it’s true.. If you want to talk to me about it, you can.’
‘N-n-no….’ I stammered. ‘Everything at home’s fine. James is just a little crazy.’ I don’t know why I lied, maybe I was scared that Mrs Bourne would report Mum and my stepdad to the police, and they might hate me forever.
‘Well, if you ever need it, here’s our number,’ she said as she pressed a scrunched up piece of paper into my hands.
I packed my stuff and ran to the door. James’ parents were going to give me a lift home. As I said goodbye to James at the door, I could tell that he had heard me lying to his mum, because he gave me a look that said ‘Why the hell d’ya do that?’
When I got home, Maria (that was Mrs Bourne’s first name) talked to my mum for a while, and explained the circumstances. I could tell that my mum was faking being nice, as she always did talking to strangers, because she feared that me and Cassie would be taken away by social services, and that she would end up in prison for child neglect or something horrific like that. My mum could be smart if she needed to be. In fact, she almost went to university, but then, she met my dad.
When Maria had left, I ran up to my room for fear of being hit by my mum. Too late, though, as she had already caught me by the hair, and was dragging me to her bedroom.
‘You had the cheek to run away, arsehole,’ she said, pulling my hair harder. ‘I’m not going to let you get away with it this time.’
She put a gag round my mouth. I tried to scream, in the hope that maybe Cassie would help me, but nothing came out. She bound my hands and feet together, and shut me up in a wardrobe. ‘You’re gonna stay there,’ she grinned, ‘UNTIL YOU’RE DEAD!’
Tears started to hurtle down my cheeks as she locked the door of the wardrobe. What had I done to deserve this? It was definitely not a rite of birth.
I woke up in a strange place. The walls around me were white and there were a lot of bright lights. I was wearing different clothes, and I had an oxygen mask on my face. Suddenly, I saw a familiar face with blue eyes, looking down on me.
‘James?’ I muttered weakly.
‘Hi.’ he said, stroking my hair.
‘What happened?’
‘The police came round to your house to investigate a murder because your stepdad was the main suspect. They were looking for clues, and found you unconscious in the wardrobe. If you’d have stayed there any longer, you might’ve died.’
It all came back to me. I started to cry, but suddenly stopped. I realized that crying didn’t get me anywhere.
‘Why are you here, then?’ I asked.
‘Someone found our phone number in your jeans pocket, and they wondered if we were family so they phoned us up. My mum told them everything.’
I smiled for the first time in years. ‘What’s going to happen to me, then? Where’s Cassie? Mum? Gary?’ That was the first time I’d ever said my stepdad’s name.
‘Your parents are in for questioning, and your sister’s fine. She’s here, actually. And, umm… …until the legal stuff gets sorted out, you’re living with us.’
Inside my head, I squealed. ‘So, I’ll be seeing a LOT more of you, then,’ I laughed.
James looked serious for a moment. ‘Uh, actually Frankie, I’ve got to tell you something.’
I sat up. ‘What?’
‘I like you.’
‘I like you too, James, I like you a lot.’
James looked startled. ‘Woah. Really?’
‘Yes, really.’
‘Oh well, umm, I like you a lot, infact, more than like, I-’
He pulled my mask off, and leaned forward. I closed my eyes. I felt his tongue in my mouth, and I wanted to laugh. After all that had happened to me, after what everybody had said, someone loved me.