Wrong-An Ethan Morales FanFiction

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏

𝓘𝓼𝓪𝓫𝓮𝓵

I'ᴍ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ sᴀʏ ɪᴛ ɴᴏᴡ, ʀᴏᴀᴅ ᴛʀɪᴘs ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ɪᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜɪs family. Ever since I was a little girl, my parents fought all the time for the most stupid things. Either it was for broken things or because something didn't go as planned.
It was worse before my little sister was born, but when Maria came into the family things calmed down a little bit. If it wasn't for her I would still be living in the same shitty household that I was living in when I was just kid.
Now my parents were fighting because my dad didn't take the right turn and we're going the wrong way, so my mom keeps arguing with him about how stupid that is and how he could have just thought a bit harder before even taking the wrong turn.
Since our car was convertible, the top was folded on the back and I could just take the air right in my face to give me a break from the stupid argument my parents were having.
     Latino parents aren't always easy, let me tell you that. My sister, Maria, was a very sensitive person. So every time she saw they fighting, tears would swell up in her eyes and it didn't take long before they would fall down her cheeks.
That's why while we were in Vegas I got myself a job so I could buy her some high-quality headphones so whenever mom and dad would fight she just had to pop those right onto her head, turn the volume all the way up and not listen to anything.
She was thirteen, I'm turning seventeen in a few weeks and I'm not sure if it will go as well as I hope.
All of my birthdays, my parents still had to fight all the time, so the only person I would really spend my birthday with was my sister, since I couldn't invite anyone to family events.
"Are they going to stop soon?" My sister asked as she looked back at me, the tears starting to swell in her eyes. It shattered my heart all the time to see my sister like this whenever they fought.
"They will, Maria. Don't worry. Just keep listening to your music and take some of the fresh air." I told her, extending my arm out so she could rest her head on my chest while she put her headphones on top of her head. Before she put any music, she spoke up again.
"Promise you'll wait until I turn eighteen so we can both get out of the house?" She asked. As much as I wanted to cry my heart out and beg my parents to stop fighting, and to grow up for once, it would all fall down on me. So I held back my tears and caressed Maria's hair while the cool air hit us both in the face.
"Yes, I do." I told her as I wrapped my arms around her and I let her play her music in her headphones.
     I was used to my parents fighting all the time, so I don't really cry for stupid shit like this. But for my sister this is not stupid shit. I'm sure if I took her to a therapist, they would diagnose her with hypersensitivity.
I'm definitely not kidding.
Or I don't know who would diagnose her with that, but it would probably be a doctor.
The only thing I'm happy for is that she didn't see their fights before she was born and that's what counts. Because fights before Maria had joined the family were intense.
Our house was next to a lot of others, but no one seemed to ever notice the heated stuff that happened inside ours.
My mom actually broke a picture of me as a newborn from the wall when she threw it at my dad once. I was three years old and that will always stay in my mind. No matter how much I try to bury it inside my head and forget. But I guess it's meant to be ingrained into my brain forever and I will never be able to forget it. Like a trauma.
I have forgotten so many things from my childhood that I don't even know.
Sometimes, I remember a few things but it's only when I'm extremely bored or when I'm thinking too much. I would write all the things down on my journal whenever I remembered something, and only used my journal for that.

We finally got to the house—Sherman Oaks was the name of the neighborhood. I had never once been in Los Angeles, I was born in Mexico, lived there until my mom got knocked up again and then we moved to Las Vegas. My parents had took me away from the only family I've ever felt good with, and I don't think they even felt bad about it. I don't think they ever felt bad about anything.
That was what I was thinking about while we parked in the driveway of our new house. White shutters, all closed. From the point of view outside, it was two floors. Walls in a shade close to terracotta and a small porch at the entrance of the house. White door, a few transparent tiles up to north.
I quickly took the keys from the beverage holder, jumping out of the car and walking up to the front door. Pushing the key into the lock and twisting it, I quickly opened the door. Everything was dark, the only light present coming from a ray of sunlight that came from a window in the living room, whose shutters were not properly shut together.
     I walked my way to that one window, opening it and pushing through the shutters, the full light from outside digging it's way into the house. I held the two wood planks away from each other, pulling down the two metal holders so they wouldn't move with the wind.
     The sound of faint footsteps peeked behind me, Maria joining my side, and looking up at me.
     She looked away a bit quicker than I expected and walked her way towards another window, and did the same thing that I did.
     "You know that I can do the windows, right? You should go check out your room." I suggested, closing the window I was in front of and looking back at Maria as she had started pushing the shutters open.
     "I want to help you. Being alone isn't nice." Maria said with a soft smile, closing the window once she was finished with it and leaned against it.
     "Well, it's a new house, Maria. You really should check it out instead of helping me get a small ray of sunshine inside." I tried to argue, but Maria was too stubborn. Even for me.
     She gave me puppy eyes and blinked a few times, so I groaned and threw my hand in the air, letting her do whatever she wanted by now. Ever since she was just a little kid, Maria had always been stubborn.  If not more back then.
We both took care of opening the shutters of the living room and all the different spaces of the house, no furniture in them. Like always, since it was a new house and it was the first time we stepped foot in here.
After we finished downstairs, I told Maria to go see her room and plan where and how she wanted to place her stuff, and I walked away to mine.
The room was dark and cold, no light this time. So I turned it on and was greeted with a white-wall, white ceiling room. The window was at the end of the place, wide—also white—and all the space I needed for myself.
A door to the right, opening it and turning on the light, a blue tile bathroom coming to life for me.
White marble bathtub—must have costed a fortune—wooden sink, toilet placed in one of the corners.
This house was perfect, but she was going to be corrupted by my parents and their mind-intoxicating arguments.
Once I took pleasure in planning where the hell I would put my stuff in my bathroom and my bedroom, I went over to the car and took some of my boxes with my stuff, my parents still arguing outside about the wrong turn that dad had took and how they both regretted marrying each other—same argument as always, to be honest.
Quickly, I went back to my room and dropped to my knees with the boxes in my hands, the two that were on top falling to the floor while the third stayed in my hands, and I quickly opened it.
Two pictures, both having so much meanings.
The first one? The picture at Maria's hospital. When she was just a newborn—all red and sleepy. Abuela had took it, and she let me keep it so I would never forget how I held my little sister in my arms for the first time and being the second person to ever do it. I had asked the nurse to hold her in my arms first, since I knew my parents wouldn't care about that.
The second one was me after a running competition, my two teeth in the front missing as I smiled wide, holding the fake-golden medal in one hand and while the other one held a goodies bag that I had earned.
It had been the sports teacher taking the photo, since my parents had taken me away from abuela by moving to Vegas and deleting any form of contact they had with her.
I held the pictures to my chest and let out a sigh, before getting up and dropping them back into the open cardboard box.
My brain already had the mental plan of where ai was going to place every single furniture, so I went back to the car—where the two I'm-always-arguing-with-my-spouse assholes were still arguing, like expected—took the rest of my boxes and went back upstairs.
Once I had finished with my furniture placing and decorating, I decided to go take some fresh air.
Maria left me a message saying that mom was cooking dinner, and dad went upstairs to assemble her bed, even though she only caught him doing it when she was about to decorate her room, expecting for me to assemble her bed instead, but I had already left.
I walked down the cold and night-y streets, arms braced over my chest, hiding the hardened nipples caused by the freezing weather and my stupid choice of wearing a white compression shirt during the night.
The wind blew between the dark locks of my hair, feeling my nose getting red.
Goosebumps rose on my skin, a stream of shivers rippling through my body.
Even though it was cold and my fingers were almost about to fall off, the air felt good, even better when I was taking it straight in my face—
"Hey! Wanna join the party?" The voice of a guy from a distance called out to me, and I looked all around before my eyes followed the light, seeing a man with curly brown hair and skater-boy style leaning against the railing of his veranda, his friends all around looking down at me, too.
Loud music was blasting from inside the house, strong lighting reflecting onto the windows from the inside and lighting up the outside.
Cigars between their fingers, and from a distance, there was a reek of weed I could still smell.
Tempting, but I can't.
"No, thanks though!" I shouted back, feeling another shiver ripple through my body and making me shake my teeth slightly.
Without another answer, the random guy went back inside his house and didn't turn back, leaving me alone out here. I quickly regretted my choice, but if I did say yes, Maria would have to stay home and watch the two bastards fight all the time.
So I nodded to myself and turned back around, walking back home to my lovely little family.
Ironic. Because the only thing lovely in my little fucked up family is my little sister. My favorite angel.
Once dinner was done and I was back home from my little walk down the streets, me and Maria went downstairs and started down at the table, one across from the other while they kept arguing. Me and Maria looked at each other, and I could see tears swelling in her eyes.
A tear glided down her cheek.
Silence.