Uninvited Company (AMY)

[noah]

Was it so hard to ask for a little peice and quiet? Obviously it was and it was driving Noah crazy. All he wanted was to be alone and play guitar. At his house there was so such thing. He was lucky he was able to even get out but his father was passed out from drinking the night before. He was glad that his sperm donor was finally sleeping, that meant he would be able to relax and have some time to just breath. Noah's house was not normal. He only dreamed of that word. His father abused his mother all the time. He tried his best to make his father focus on him rather than his mother and most of the time it worked. It doesn't really matter what he says, his sperm donor is always right. Noah would be sitting on the couch minding his own business and John as he was called would come out of no where and pull Noah off the couch by the scruff of his shirt and begin wailing on him. Just looking at John wrong would cause problems. Most of the time he would have to be drunk for all of this to happen but sometimes he just does it. Noah's mother would do her best to not be around when John was drinking but she still got in the firing zone once and a while. It was no use fighting it anymore Noah came to the conclusion. People would ask what all the cuts and bruises were from but Noah never answered straight. He actually began covering them up just to hide the truth. It seemed to be working.

Being that John was passed out, Noah took the opportunity to go out and play guitar. He wasn't sure where a good place would be but he would find somewhere no matter what. He pulled on his DC shoes and grabbed his accustic guitar and made his way to the park. It sounded like the best place and he was pretty sure not many people would be around. Noah covered the bruises the best he could and began his trek towards the park.

When he arrived at the park he headed to a picnic table and hopped on and sat down, feeting dangling from the end. He flipped his hat backwards and then fished his pick out from his pocket. Looking around nervously, he looked back at his guitar and began to strum away. His songs were always depressing and sad but they always sounded so beautiful to others and he didn't quite understand that. Noah began getting lost in his music and didn't even realize the people that walked past from time to time. He was in his own little world now. The place where he could get away from all the pain and saddness and finally feel good. Only his mother ever really heard him or at least she was the only one he ever 'let' hear him. Noah strummed on his guitar and closed his eyes, his body moving slightly with his rthym. He didn't care anymore. Let John hurt him. But right them he was free. Eyes opening for only a moment, he instantly stopped what he was playing and stared in the direction of a girl who was walking down the pathway towards him. He quickly began turning pink in the cheecks and his face grew hot. He tried pressing the nervousness aside but he just couldn't.

STATUS! complete
TAGS! AMY
NOTES! sucky... im sorry
WEARING! CLOTHING
INSPIRATION! whatchalisteningto?!
CREDITS! Template Byarro @ Caution!
LYRICS! Colorado Sunrise by 3OH!3

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[amysinclaire]

THE TRUTH COMES OUT IN THE BREAKDOWNS
( • M E M O R I E S M Y G O D T H E S E M E M O R I E S • )

"We're all just trying to endure, Amy. You understand, don't you, baby?"

[/i] His words hang thick in the air, suffocating the tiny girl with the awful sweetness of escaping sweat, the rank stench of skin and empty beer cans. The darkness would frighten some, but for the pale broken body, crushed under one much too familiar, it is a comfort, a friend. Darkness she knows well, and it will remain her only advantage in these dangerous encounters. It's harder to see their bodies pressed together, easier to equate his weight to a heaviness of heart. The confusion this brings to mind just fades away, and suddenly, he's no longer her father, too stoned to think straight. He could be a random stranger she met at the bar. Because in truth, she knows him just as well. "I can't live without you."[/i] The humid air can't seem to flow through her parting mouth, but he wants an answer, shaking the very form he gave life to, the one he sucks it all away from in this moment. She coughs, and the bodies rise under the sheets. ”I understand.”

It's been going on for six months now. When it all began, the attacks were seperate, scarce and confusing occurences that would leave her shaking alone in a locked watercloset for days, though the moment she emerged, things would go back to normal. For a couple days, she might avoid his greedy, searching fingertips, the encounters behind her mother's back, wrists nailed to the walls by oppressive hands. She'd get to school on time for once, and sit in class, where the best Amy could do was avoid the judging eyes of peers and teachers. Did you get that coat from the principal? Leila Stevers laughs as she passes in the hall, clean, shining red hair strung out behind her, all smiles. Amy walked to school in the cold without a jacket for weeks before finding a grubby white replacement from her mother, who had been in and out of the apartment in the winter months of last year. The marriage between her parents, for obvious reasons, was falling apart, but her mother had no idea what was going on. Amy didn't know how to stop it. She still cared for her father; she didn't want him to die. He couldn't live without her. She holds on. She shuffles off to Algebra with her heavy textbooks and takes her seat, the corpse in the class.

Things have been better lately. She's out of school; she can avoid the judging glares and forget about hiding her bruises - no one notices passing by on the streets. She doesn't have to worry about eating at lunch because there's hardly any food in the house, and on days like this, when her father has to work and her mother is around (and in a very exceptional mood), she just might escape for a walk in the park. The sky is blue and light, but at the same time, backbreaking. Repressive and cruel - she cannot be happy, or enjoy the sun without being confronted by her pale, shivering skin and obvious bones. She doesn't belong.

But there's a comfort in watching the passersby, seeing happiness in others. A boy is playing guitar on a park bench about twenty yards away, the melodies empty and hollow, yet chillingly beautiful. She smiles. The sound of loneliness makes her happier. Amy frowns for a moment, unsure of herself. Would it be right to listen, to intrude? It's too late, he's looked up. And the boy looks to be in such a similar predicament, plagued by insecurities, she feels the need to reassure him. She waits for the song to finish, standing a couple feet off, wringing her hands together, and gives an unconvincing smile. "That's really beautiful, you know? I'm not just saying that." For some reason, it feels good to say something that isn't a lie.


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THEY DON'T MEAN ANYTHING OH THOSE MEMORIES
( • A S Y O U S P O K E Y O U R F O R K E D T O N G U E S H O W E D • )[/center]

W O R D S • 680
T A G G E D • noaaahh C:
O U T F I T • click!
L Y R I C S • memories by lion if ido
T E M P L A T E • PANIC! ITS LAUZ of CAUTION
N O T E S • meh, this could be better too. oh well! <3