My Bloody Idiot

I just kept blinking at the bloody thing. The loud banging on the bathroom door couldn’t even force me to look away.

“I’m pregnant,” I whispered to myself whilst my hand rested on my stomach.

“Riley Clarke, I swear to god if you don’t open this fucking door, Matt is gonna break it in!” Saint yelled from behind the door.

“Riles, please, open the door, you know how I am about replacing stuff,” Matt begged, “Gates, do something!”

“What do you suppose I should do?” Brian mumbled, sounding as annoyed as ever. “Google how to pick a fucking lock?”

My eyes were still glued to the pregnancy test. A couple seconds passed before the lines went blurry and after a moment – disappeared completely. Was this how it was supposed to go? With a slight frown I picked up the box to read the instructions again – after two to three minutes check for results, but don’t wait longer than five minutes.

Huh…

The box dropped back to the counter right before my hands landed at the each side of the sink, boosting myself over it. I checked my reflection in the mirror and I can honestly say I had gone fifty shades paler.

What a day…

I opened the tap and splashed the cold water on my face. “Snap out of it, Clarke…” My eyes connected to my reflection just as I reached for the towel. “You got this… It’s just a bloody child…”

“Riley I’m already dialing Jude’s number. Don’t fucking test me!” Saint shouted in frustration and with a deep breath I walked up to the door and opened it, meeting three pairs of eyes, apparently waiting for answers.

“What? Can’t a girl use the bathroom in privacy?” I pushed past them.

“And where the hell are you going?” Saint continued seeing how I took the route towards the front door.

“Saint,” Brian shot her a warning look.

“What? I wanna know.” She widened her eyes at him.

“Riley, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Matt spoke cautiously, “Did the test—“ Matt cut himself off right as I came to an abrupt halt with my hand on the handle.

I froze. What was I going to do? Theoretically they didn’t have to know. They’ll be off in a month and only god knows when they’ll return. Me being pregnant was nobody’s fucking business. I mean, it was probably Brian’s right to know, but either way what would him knowing change? Would it stop him from being an egotistical bastard fucking other women? Of course not. Would he drop the tour and stay home with me? Not a fucking chance. So I guess the joke’s on me – either way I’m going to be a single mom. Brian’s taken and going to be snorting cocaine off some bimbo’s tits while touring around, and I’m going to figure out the best and easiest way to push a watermelon through an inch wide hole and later live through the diaper changing, teeth growing, through those first tantrums… oh an the teenage years. Looovely. Ain’t life fun?

I remembered damn well how I was when I was fifteen. I was a goddamn monster. I failed basically each and every subject including music, which was a slight wake-up slap for my mum, and what did she do? She got Brian to tutor me. In music. Have you ever heard someone needing a tutor in music? Yea, me neither. But I can tell you one thing – being a sophomore sucked… especially when everyone wanted to be friends with you just because your parents were and I quote ‘rock gods’. Little did they know – being a hormone struck teenager whose parents are going through a divorce and are in and out of the tabloids was not something to dream of.

A heavy sigh left me as I realized I’m here… Sitting on the steps of the Huntington Beach High-school… waiting for someone to pick me up for over an hour now, still having something as moronic as a goddamn hope that my parents actually remembered about me. Fat chance.

I threw my leather backpack over my shoulder as I stood up, ready to march my way home, before an old Honda Civic stopped in front of me. The window rolled down and a cloud of smoke erupted seemingly from nowhere along with the solid beat of Pantera’s Walk.

“Riley?” A guy with shoulder length black hair addressed me with the cigarette still lingering from his lips.

“And you are?” I believe I’ve seen him before. Wasn’t he one of Matt’s goons? Something Gates… or whatever he went by. I didn’t care.

“Syn,” He replied simply, taking the cigarette away his mouth so he could blow out a thick cloud, “Hop in, your mom told me to pick you up.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s what every kidnapper says before stuffing little kids in their van,” I cocked my eyebrow.

A corner of his mouth raised in a smirk, “And I’m here thinking you’re at that rightful age when kidnapping is considered a foreplay.” He shook the ash off his cigarette, “Come on, get in.”

I didn’t like to give in that easily, but something made me think this specimen won’t put up with my arguing and would simply up and leave and I wasn’t that keen on walking all the way back home. “Fine.” I sighed, before walking around the car and getting in. Jesus, his car was a fucking cemetery on wheels. “Has someone died in here? What’s that awful smell?”

“Hey, if you wanna walk- be my guest,” He said as he kicked the cigarette bud away, starting to drive down the street, “if not – shut up about my car.”

I looked around to see empty take-away trays everywhere. “You know, it probably wouldn’t be that bad if you actually cleaned it from time to time.” I shot my hands up in defense right when he shot me a glare, “just saying.”

“And you probably wouldn’t fail school if you actually studied,” He retorted, “How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” I frowned. “Why?”

“Shit,” He cursed under his breath, “Then, you know, never mind about the kidnapper joke, ‘kay? It stays between you and me.”

“You’re acting like you’re thirty and you’d actually hit on me,” I said. He stood silent for a moment, “Wait… that was you ACTUALLY hitting on me? I mean… WOW.”

His eyes squinted on the road, he said absolutely nothing.

“How do you score chicks is beyond me…”

“Shut up,” He hissed, making me chuckle. It seemed my sudden laughter had surprised him, “What’s so funny?”

“You.” I kept silently snickering to myself, noticing a number 1 tattooed on his thumb. God, he was such a fucking dork. “That ‘1’ on your finger stands for how many partners you’ve actually had?” I kept laughing, raising my hand and continuing in a mocking manner, “Hi, I’m Sally and I’m Syn’s only ONE.”

“You know, this is why you don’t have friends,” he turned his head to look at me in complete awe.

“Who said I don’t have friends?” I frowned.

“Uhmm… Your mom?”

“My mom paid you to tutor me.” I started, “Sooo, let’s stick to that and that only, okay?” I didn’t need his unnecessary comments about the lack of people I actually wanted in my life.

“In music?” He laughed, ignoring my suggestion completely. “I don’t know how retarded you have to be to actually fail fucking music.”

“Well, then I guess I’m pretty damn retarded,” I faked a smile.

“Of course,” He replied sarcastically, turning the car on the street to my house.

“What do you suggest? That I’m acting up?” I couldn’t be even more bored with the subject.

“Yup.” He popped the ‘p’. “Tho I don’t get why.”

“And you don’t have to.” I replied, turning my head to look out the window right as he pulled up on the empty driveway. Without a word I unbuckled the seat-belt and got out, searching the front pocket of my backpack for the set of keys.

Why was I failing music? Maybe because everyone wanted me to play mom’s bands songs all the fucking time? Maybe that’s the reason WHY I skip the fucking class all the goddamn time. Why I’m failing those other classes is a fully different story.

I put the key in the lock and with one swift motion, the door was open. I didn’t need a fucking tutor. As far as it concerned me – he could go straight home or wherever he spent his precious time – I’d make sure mom paid him.

I was about to close the door, before I was pushed forward. “So where do you wanna do this?”

“Do what?” I frowned seeing him walk straight to the living room couch and sit down. Why can’t you just fucking leave… Take a hint, man!

“I hear you have an assignment. A band project of sort?” He raised his eyebrow back at me. I pushed the door closed with a heavy sigh and walked forward. “What instrument did they assign you to?”

“Take a wild guess,” I said, my backpack dropping to the floor as I took a seat on the armrest.

“Drums?”

I took a deep breath, biting down on my lower lip. “Yeah…”

“So where’s the fucking problem? Put your stubbornness aside and just take one for the team.”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t have a team… per say.”

“What do you mean?” A deep crease formed between his dark eyebrows.

“I don’t have friends… You said it yourself,” Well besides Ariel who’s an even more frequent guest at that class. Note the sarcasm.

I saw him close his eyes as he took a deep breath. “Okay then.” He said as soon as his eyes had fixed on me. “I’ll go to your fucking school and play with you.”

“You what?” My eyebrows shot up. Say that again…?

“What song would you like to do?” He changed the subject quicker than Charlie Sheen changed his women.

“I don’t want to do any song,” I crossed my leather jacket covered arms over my chest.

“Sadly, that’s not a fucking option,” He leaned back in the couch, linking his hands together behind his head. “Choose a goddamn song, Clarke.”

I arched my brow as I narrowed my eyes on him, “As if…”

“Listen,” His eyes fixed on me, “I have all the time in the world, so if you wanna act like a stubborn bitch – fine by me, just remember I’m not the one who has to actually finish 10th grade.”

“That’s a bit rich coming from someone, who dropped out of their freshman year of college,” I snorted. How did I know that? Mom is kinda friends with his step-mom - Suzie, so obviously I know a little too much about Synyster Gates here.

He shot me a warning look, “yeah, well, at least I graduated from high-school.”

“And what do you want me to do, glue a fucking gold-star on your big-ass forehead for it?” I rolled my eyes. Why the fuck was he even here? I didn’t need no tutor, thank you very much.

He just gaped at me. “How the fuck can your parents stand you is beyond me…”

Needless to say – I didn’t finish high-school. Not back than at least. I did it a couple years later when I moved to London. My life was a fucking shitshow and the saddest part – I was to blame for it. I won’t deny – I realize that I was a pain in the ass and that my parents must’ve wanted to stab me fifty fucking times over my hormone struck teenage years and I don’t blame them. Now… Remembering the way I was… Man… I mean fuck me if my kid turns out the same way I did.

Speaking of… Those pairs of eyes were still glued to me.

“I am… kinda… uhmm…” I saw Brian’s face drop even before I had revealed the big secret, “you know… pregnant.”

Saint’s eyes went wide and she stammered with some words that made absolutely no sense to me. Matt on the other hand – he looked happy… shocked, but happy.

Suddenly I was taken by my upper arm and dragged outside, the door closing behind me and Brian with a bang.

“How did this happen?” He ran his fingers through his dark hair, pacing around.

“Uhmm, I’m pretty sure you know how it happened,” I frowned, feeling my heart drop to the very bottom of my stomach, realizing this is not something he had wanted. I thought… Fuck, that time when we talked about kids, I mean… I had thought he wanted children.

“So it’s mine…” He looked at me with despair written all across his features.

“Who’s else could it fucking be, Haner?” I exclaimed to my own surprise, taken aback with his reaction.

“This is such a bad timing, Clarke,” He came to an abrupt halt right in front of me and rubbed his hands over his face. “Can you imagine what the press will write about it? I can’t be in the tabloids now! I just got fucking divorced…”

Oh my god. He’s still the egotistical jerk I always thought him to be. So the nice guy thing was just an act to get back in my pants? Well, look at the consequences of that, asshole! “So what do you suggest? You want me to get rid of it or something?” I asked. Shock had gained a fully different meaning at the moment. I saw a glimpse of hope light up his eyes. “Seriously?! You’re a fucking asshole, Brian!”

I turned around and headed towards my house.

“Jesus, Riley! That’s not what I meant!”

“Fuck you!” I turned around, “You know, I don’t even think I want you to be the father of my child, so you’re officially discharged of the bloody title!”

“Riley, come on don’t do this!” He begged, “This is a lot to take in, you have to understand that!”

“No, Brian fucking Haner, you already did this. My child will never fucking call you ‘dad’, mark my words!”

Notes

I'm sorry guys for the lack of update, but I've just been working non-stop and even tho I have ideas floating around in my head, I don't have the time nor the strength to put them down. But I'm pleasantly surprised to see all the feedback! Thank you so much!