All Of This, chapter 1
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December 23, 1989
To The People Who Own This Hell-hole Of A Home:
If you can't find me, don't seek for me any further. I have had enough of this suckish life, and it shall come to an end. You tried your best to take care of me, but it doesn't look like you tried hard enough. I'm sorry if this will cause havoc upon your lives, but to tell you the truth...I really don't care. 'Tis your fault I feel unloved. 'Tis your fault my life has been miserable. Don't expect to be able to say "good-bye" to your seventeen year old daughter.
So Long And Goodnight,
Esmee
She stepped outside into the cold, midnight air. A backpack was slung over her shoulder, for it held everything she needed: diary, CDs, walkman, clothes, make-up, money, extra batteries, band-aids, pencil, and no one can't forget mom's credit card.
Esmee had a lot more stuff left in her room, like her cat, Gir, and her bass, which she had named Sober. They were both her prized posessions, but she couldn't take them with her. She'd have to leave them behind. But those weren't the only things Esmee wasn't running away with. She also had a sister...
She was leaving her with abusive parents. And she knew they would take their anger out on her. But Esmee couldn't drag her along with her. She was only twelve. She can't take her out of school like that.
Esmee stepped off the front porch and began to make her way down Sunset Blvd. She was happy to get out of her so called "home". For it was never home to her. No place in Berkeley was home to her. Unless she was on her own...
A piercing scream had filled the streets. Someone had found Esmee's note. And by the sound of it, Jamie, her sister, had released that screech of terror.
She scurried across the concrete as she heard Jamie call her name. "Esmee?! ESMEE?!"
Then, Esmee's dad came into the picture, "Shut up you little twit!--I SWEAR TO GOD ESMEE, WHEN I SEE YOU AGAIN, I'LL KILL YA'! YOU BETTER BELIEVE IT, TOO! DO YOU HEAR ME, ESMEE?! YOU'RE DEAD!"
She ran faster, trying to steady herself from tripping as tears rolled down her face. But she kept running. I kept running and made sure that she would never look back.
**
It was colder than normal here in California. You'd usually see people in shorts and t-shirts around this time. But this December, everyone was wearing sweat pants and jackets. It's an oddesey to the city regulars who expect sun-shine and warmth everyday.
Esmee made it my first night alone, and cold. She was too stupid to think of bringing a blanket, or atleast a jacket on my journey away from home. But, she still got through the night by sleeping in a very tight alley-way.
She sat outside of a local gas station, sipping a small cup of freshly-made coffee. People who passed her by while entering the store gave Esmee very unfriendly looks. Like she was a freak of nature. But she couldn't argue about that.
I mean, I do look like I'm a serial killer with the black nails, pale skin, and overload of dark blue eyeliner.
Finishing off the last drop of coffee she had, Esmee stood up and began making her way farther into the city, throwing her foam cup out along the way. She walked the streets in her scuffed up, worn Converse. Her backpack seemed heavier than normal, seeing as how Esmee was extremely weak because she couldn't get enough sleep the night before.
"Heyy little chicky," a blonde guy who looked about eighteen eased his way up next to her. "You look lost."
His eyes were a light shade of blue, and he was only an inch or two taller than Esmee. He wore a pair of baggy denim shorts, and some dirty brown Chucks. He had no shirt on whatsoever, so you could see his very slight six-pack.
"I'm not lost," she scowled.
The man grabbed her hand and smiled, "Then, you look lonely. I shall un-lonify you."
Esmee pulled her hand back and glared at him. "I don't want to be un-lonified. I'm just fine on my own. Without your god damn help."
"Ooooh," his mouth curved. "Playing hard to get, are ya'?"
"No, I'm playing 'leave me the fuck alone before I get really mad'," she said through clenched teeth.
He smirked at her comeback. "What's your name?"
"None of your fucking business."
The man tried to grab her hand again, but she jerked it away and punched him square in the face with her other.
"Don't. Touch me," Esmee snarled as he held his nose.
She saw another guy running towards us. Figuring it was one of the dude's buddies, she sped around and began sprinting away.
Esmee felt a pull on her backpack, but she quickly got loose of the hold on it and ran faster. She made it about a block and a half down the road when she started to hear laughter. Esmee slowed her pace and came to a hault.
She turned around to see the other man laughing with his apparent buddy. His hair was long and also blonde and he was much taller than the one she unfortunately met.
They gazed over to where Esmee was standing and saw her. The short on started waving a wallet in the air.
"Later, Esmee!" he yelled.
The bitch stole my wallet...
"Fucker," She sighed in aggrevation, and continued on my way.
**
Esmee had been walking around for hours, and she was starving. It was beginning to get dark as the evening dragged on. She never knew Berkeley was this big of a city.
She wanted to buy something to eat, but she didn't have her wallet any longer, thanks to that punk. It had all of her money, her I.D., and the credit card in it.
Now how am I going to survive?
Sure, she could go through stores and theft stuff, but Esmee was never good at that. She'd always get caught. But right now, it's the only thing that could get her food.
She found a small, white, one-story house. There was no car in the driveway, and no lights were on inside. Esmee went up to the front porch and looked through the window. No one was to be seen. She opened the screen door as quietly as possible, and laid her hand on the knob of the front door behind it. She began to turn the knob, and surprisingly, it was unlocked. Esmee slowly opened it and tip-toed inside.
She looked around, making sure she was alone, and made her way into the kitchen.
She quickly searched through all of the cupboards, grabbing random food items such as potato chips, apples, and bread. She looked through the fridge, and grabbed a couple bottles of Coca-Cola. Esmee stuffed everything in her bag except an apple. She backed up as she took a bite of the apple and turned around, slamming into someone.
Esmee gazed up to meet a pair of green eyes. Those eyes belonged to a boy who seemed to be approximately nineteen or twenty years old. He had shoulder length, dark brown, curly hair. And like the idiot she had met earlier in the day, he was also about one or two, maybe three inches taller than her.
"What are you doing in my house?"
Her mouth hung open as she tried to find her words. But she ended up sputtering out a bunch of nonsense, "I-I n-needed--"
"Food?" he finished my sentence.
Esmee nodded.
"You could've knocked on the door. I would've given you something," he said.
"I-I thought no-no one was home... " she smiled with unsurity.
"So you thought you could just waltz right in?" The tone of his voice scared her. "Hmm?"
She bowed her head down in shame.
"Wait a second... " he held up my chin. "You don't have a place to stay, do you?"
She shook her head.
"You can stay here...if you want... "
Esmee looked at him with pleading eyes.
He chuckled, "I'll take that as a yes."
She smiled and nodded.
Holding out his hand, he told her his name. "I'm Billie Joe."
"I'm Esmee," she also held out my hand, and we greeted.
**
Billie Joe and Esmee were sitting in the living room, just staring at the floor. He tried asking her questions about herself, but she wouldn't answer them. She didn't like people knowing about her life. That's one reason why she never made any friends.
The silence in the room started to become very awkward. Billie Joe would glance up at her nervously every few seconds, and she would do the same. You could hear the ticking of the kitchen clock perfectly. But Esmee was sick of that noise.
So she decided to strike up a conversation, "So, I'll be sleeping on the couch then, aye?"
"Nah," Billie scrunched up his noise. "You'll sleep in Tre's room. He has a bunk bed."
She gulped, "You mean...you live with someone else?"
"Yeah. Mike and Tre," he answered.
"What do they look like?"
"Tre: blonde hair, blue eyes, short. 'Bout my height," Billie explained. "Mike: long, blonde hair, blue eyes, tall."
Her eyes grew wide. They couldn't have been the same guys Esmee met earlier today, could they?
No...it's just a coincidence. Yeah. That's exactly was it is. A coincidence.
Esmee was snapped out of her thoughts when the front door burst open and two guys stumbled inside. Each of them had a beer in their hands and they were laughing to no end.
It's them, she thought in disgust.
They walked into the living room, causing her to jump up and point at Tre, "I am NOT sleeping in the same room with HIM!"
To The People Who Own This Hell-hole Of A Home:
If you can't find me, don't seek for me any further. I have had enough of this suckish life, and it shall come to an end. You tried your best to take care of me, but it doesn't look like you tried hard enough. I'm sorry if this will cause havoc upon your lives, but to tell you the truth...I really don't care. 'Tis your fault I feel unloved. 'Tis your fault my life has been miserable. Don't expect to be able to say "good-bye" to your seventeen year old daughter.
So Long And Goodnight,
Esmee
She stepped outside into the cold, midnight air. A backpack was slung over her shoulder, for it held everything she needed: diary, CDs, walkman, clothes, make-up, money, extra batteries, band-aids, pencil, and no one can't forget mom's credit card.
Esmee had a lot more stuff left in her room, like her cat, Gir, and her bass, which she had named Sober. They were both her prized posessions, but she couldn't take them with her. She'd have to leave them behind. But those weren't the only things Esmee wasn't running away with. She also had a sister...
She was leaving her with abusive parents. And she knew they would take their anger out on her. But Esmee couldn't drag her along with her. She was only twelve. She can't take her out of school like that.
Esmee stepped off the front porch and began to make her way down Sunset Blvd. She was happy to get out of her so called "home". For it was never home to her. No place in Berkeley was home to her. Unless she was on her own...
A piercing scream had filled the streets. Someone had found Esmee's note. And by the sound of it, Jamie, her sister, had released that screech of terror.
She scurried across the concrete as she heard Jamie call her name. "Esmee?! ESMEE?!"
Then, Esmee's dad came into the picture, "Shut up you little twit!--I SWEAR TO GOD ESMEE, WHEN I SEE YOU AGAIN, I'LL KILL YA'! YOU BETTER BELIEVE IT, TOO! DO YOU HEAR ME, ESMEE?! YOU'RE DEAD!"
She ran faster, trying to steady herself from tripping as tears rolled down her face. But she kept running. I kept running and made sure that she would never look back.
**
It was colder than normal here in California. You'd usually see people in shorts and t-shirts around this time. But this December, everyone was wearing sweat pants and jackets. It's an oddesey to the city regulars who expect sun-shine and warmth everyday.
Esmee made it my first night alone, and cold. She was too stupid to think of bringing a blanket, or atleast a jacket on my journey away from home. But, she still got through the night by sleeping in a very tight alley-way.
She sat outside of a local gas station, sipping a small cup of freshly-made coffee. People who passed her by while entering the store gave Esmee very unfriendly looks. Like she was a freak of nature. But she couldn't argue about that.
I mean, I do look like I'm a serial killer with the black nails, pale skin, and overload of dark blue eyeliner.
Finishing off the last drop of coffee she had, Esmee stood up and began making her way farther into the city, throwing her foam cup out along the way. She walked the streets in her scuffed up, worn Converse. Her backpack seemed heavier than normal, seeing as how Esmee was extremely weak because she couldn't get enough sleep the night before.
"Heyy little chicky," a blonde guy who looked about eighteen eased his way up next to her. "You look lost."
His eyes were a light shade of blue, and he was only an inch or two taller than Esmee. He wore a pair of baggy denim shorts, and some dirty brown Chucks. He had no shirt on whatsoever, so you could see his very slight six-pack.
"I'm not lost," she scowled.
The man grabbed her hand and smiled, "Then, you look lonely. I shall un-lonify you."
Esmee pulled her hand back and glared at him. "I don't want to be un-lonified. I'm just fine on my own. Without your god damn help."
"Ooooh," his mouth curved. "Playing hard to get, are ya'?"
"No, I'm playing 'leave me the fuck alone before I get really mad'," she said through clenched teeth.
He smirked at her comeback. "What's your name?"
"None of your fucking business."
The man tried to grab her hand again, but she jerked it away and punched him square in the face with her other.
"Don't. Touch me," Esmee snarled as he held his nose.
She saw another guy running towards us. Figuring it was one of the dude's buddies, she sped around and began sprinting away.
Esmee felt a pull on her backpack, but she quickly got loose of the hold on it and ran faster. She made it about a block and a half down the road when she started to hear laughter. Esmee slowed her pace and came to a hault.
She turned around to see the other man laughing with his apparent buddy. His hair was long and also blonde and he was much taller than the one she unfortunately met.
They gazed over to where Esmee was standing and saw her. The short on started waving a wallet in the air.
"Later, Esmee!" he yelled.
The bitch stole my wallet...
"Fucker," She sighed in aggrevation, and continued on my way.
**
Esmee had been walking around for hours, and she was starving. It was beginning to get dark as the evening dragged on. She never knew Berkeley was this big of a city.
She wanted to buy something to eat, but she didn't have her wallet any longer, thanks to that punk. It had all of her money, her I.D., and the credit card in it.
Now how am I going to survive?
Sure, she could go through stores and theft stuff, but Esmee was never good at that. She'd always get caught. But right now, it's the only thing that could get her food.
She found a small, white, one-story house. There was no car in the driveway, and no lights were on inside. Esmee went up to the front porch and looked through the window. No one was to be seen. She opened the screen door as quietly as possible, and laid her hand on the knob of the front door behind it. She began to turn the knob, and surprisingly, it was unlocked. Esmee slowly opened it and tip-toed inside.
She looked around, making sure she was alone, and made her way into the kitchen.
She quickly searched through all of the cupboards, grabbing random food items such as potato chips, apples, and bread. She looked through the fridge, and grabbed a couple bottles of Coca-Cola. Esmee stuffed everything in her bag except an apple. She backed up as she took a bite of the apple and turned around, slamming into someone.
Esmee gazed up to meet a pair of green eyes. Those eyes belonged to a boy who seemed to be approximately nineteen or twenty years old. He had shoulder length, dark brown, curly hair. And like the idiot she had met earlier in the day, he was also about one or two, maybe three inches taller than her.
"What are you doing in my house?"
Her mouth hung open as she tried to find her words. But she ended up sputtering out a bunch of nonsense, "I-I n-needed--"
"Food?" he finished my sentence.
Esmee nodded.
"You could've knocked on the door. I would've given you something," he said.
"I-I thought no-no one was home... " she smiled with unsurity.
"So you thought you could just waltz right in?" The tone of his voice scared her. "Hmm?"
She bowed her head down in shame.
"Wait a second... " he held up my chin. "You don't have a place to stay, do you?"
She shook her head.
"You can stay here...if you want... "
Esmee looked at him with pleading eyes.
He chuckled, "I'll take that as a yes."
She smiled and nodded.
Holding out his hand, he told her his name. "I'm Billie Joe."
"I'm Esmee," she also held out my hand, and we greeted.
**
Billie Joe and Esmee were sitting in the living room, just staring at the floor. He tried asking her questions about herself, but she wouldn't answer them. She didn't like people knowing about her life. That's one reason why she never made any friends.
The silence in the room started to become very awkward. Billie Joe would glance up at her nervously every few seconds, and she would do the same. You could hear the ticking of the kitchen clock perfectly. But Esmee was sick of that noise.
So she decided to strike up a conversation, "So, I'll be sleeping on the couch then, aye?"
"Nah," Billie scrunched up his noise. "You'll sleep in Tre's room. He has a bunk bed."
She gulped, "You mean...you live with someone else?"
"Yeah. Mike and Tre," he answered.
"What do they look like?"
"Tre: blonde hair, blue eyes, short. 'Bout my height," Billie explained. "Mike: long, blonde hair, blue eyes, tall."
Her eyes grew wide. They couldn't have been the same guys Esmee met earlier today, could they?
No...it's just a coincidence. Yeah. That's exactly was it is. A coincidence.
Esmee was snapped out of her thoughts when the front door burst open and two guys stumbled inside. Each of them had a beer in their hands and they were laughing to no end.
It's them, she thought in disgust.
They walked into the living room, causing her to jump up and point at Tre, "I am NOT sleeping in the same room with HIM!"
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