Unbound - A Synacky Fan Fiction

-          Scarlett’s POV -

Just another day at school.

 That was all it ever was for me. Just another few hours until I could go back home and do what I did. Just a few more hours to get through the day. The life of the lame fifteen-year-old.

 My daily routine was, well, routine. I got home from school; I’d do my homework and be a good kid; I’d practice playing the guitar for a few hours; I’d try and eat something, even though I never felt like it; I’d hang out with my older brother, whom I worshipped; I’d go to sleep. Although I tended to get some nasty habits if said older brother wasn’t around. I really don’t know what I’d do without Zacky.

 And now it was last period and I could almost go home and continue with my routine. Do my homework, play guitar, tease Zacky. I loved my older brother like nothing else. When our parents got into their rows, he was always there. When they screamed and chucked things at each other, he was there. Always. He’d hold me and hug me and tell me everything would be alright. He’d stroke my hair and I’d cry into his shirt.

 And then, I’d look up at him and see his eyes and be reassured. We did look alike, the two of us; we both had dark hair and a similar build, and I was nearly as tall as he was. We both had snakebite piercings, but that was kind of as far as the resemblance went. His eyes were a bright olive green, flecked with tiny brown spots. My eyes were sunken in my face and ringed in shadows as a result of too little sleep, and they were a greyish shade of green.

 He hadn’t been around much recently, and I blamed that on my increased lack of sleep. He’d been busy rehearsing with his band, MPA. I missed having Zacky around. He was always bright, bouncy, great to be around. Nothing could ever get him down. He wasn’t like me, who tended to get depressed at the littlest things.

 Hopefully he’d be home tonight, I told myself as the bell rang for the end of school. I grabbed my bag and made to leg it out of there. The kids had habits of picking on me if I lingered on school grounds. Besides, I’d been messing with some Metallica chords in my head and I was desperate to give them a go.

 I had no homework today, so I went straight to my room and grabbed my guitar. I must have been practicing for hours, because I didn’t even notice when my mother called us down for dinner.

 She put a plate of meatloaf in front of me. I started picking at it. I did like eating, it was true, but something made me feel awkward about being around my parents. We all knew they stayed together for the sake of convenience. They were clipped, precise, and generally polite with each other, but it was clear they detested each other’s guts.

 “Eat your meatloaf,” my mother snapped, seeing me pick.

 My dad nodded earnestly, his mouth full of food. “Maybe you’ll tone down the racket if you get something inside your system.”

 “It was Metallica,” I mumbled. I didn’t usually take shit from anyone, but my parents just made me feel off. It was easier to just accept whatever dumb stuff they had in mind.

 He waved his fork in the air. “I didn’t buy you those amplifiers so you could blast demonic music through the house.”

 “You didn’t buy me those amps at all,” I retorted angrily.

 My mother’s lips grew tight. “Don’t be rude, Scarlett.”

 I slammed my fork down. “It’s true! That amp was my birthday present from Zacky!”

 My father decided to leave the topic alone. “Where is Zachary tonight, Madeleine?” he directed this to my mother.

 “He’s out with his friends,” she said, daintily nibbling at her meatloaf.

 I took a bite of mine. It tasted like cardboard and I couldn’t get it down.

 My father frowned. “That boy. He should be studying to get into a good university, not out drinking himself to death.”

 “He’s not drinking himself to death!” I nearly shouted, “He’s practicing with his band so he can make it big. It wouldn’t make a difference if he got into uni, anyway, we can’t afford it.”

 “Scarlett!” my father roared, “Go to your room this instant! I will not be spoken to like that!”

 I slammed my plate down and flounced back up to my room. I wasn’t sorry, not in the slightest. I could handle it when my parents picked on me. Picking on Zacky when he wasn’t around, though…no. That I wouldn’t stand for.

 If Zacky got home, it would usually be around this time or earlier. Most likely he was crashing at his friends’ tonight. He’d done that the past few days, and I hadn’t actually seen him in nearly a week. He’d sent me texts, though, I reminded myself, as my phone made a bleeping noise.

 Speak of the devil, it was from Zacky. How are they tonight? He asked, evidently referring to the parental units.

 Almost ruder than usual, was my instantaneous reply.

 He, too, replied straight away. Were you playing Sabbath?

 I laughed. No, Metallica…I was working on Ride the Lightning.

 I knew he’d laugh at that. Here’s a tip. Try playing Highway to Hell at top volume. Now, sorry, kid, I gotta go. See you later.

 I texted him in reply and pondered his advice. Our parents were quite strictly religious, which was one of the reasons they despised the music I listened to. Highway to Hell…yes. That would do the trick very, very well. But first I had something to deal with.

 I made my way into the upstairs bathroom and pulled the razorblade out of my pocket. This was the nasty habit that seemed to surface occasionally, usually if I was bored and ended up thinking too much.

 I pulled up my sleeve, staring at the skin there. Once, it had been smooth and white. It was still white, but the surface was marred by raised scars. Ghosts of slashes and cuts near my wrists, scars that never would fade. The same was on my other wrist, too.

 I pulled the razorblade gently across the skin, feeling it tear. It felt wonderful, to let the pain out this way. I couldn’t get the emotional pain out of my system, but I could do this instead. The pain was beautiful – heavenly. It stung, of course, and my eyes watered involuntarily, but for a while, I could just let all the hurt bleed away.

 After I was done, I went back to my room. I didn’t feel like playing guitar anymore, I just couldn’t be bothered. I decided to do some studying, getting ahead on my homework like the nerd I was. It wasn’t long after that I went to bed.

 The nightmares started right up again. I always had trouble sleeping, and when I finally did fall asleep, I watched hellish visions replayed over and over again in my mind’s eye. Clowns, mannequins, any kind of doll…I’d always had some kind of fear of them. They were always pictured in my nightmares. I watched Zacky die over and over again. I saw myself, trapped and unable to help. Hell on earth, for me.

 I woke up early, sweat plastering my hair to my head. I rolled over, falling out of bed and into the shower. I had to get ready for school.

 By the time I was ready, I was twenty minutes early, so I used it as an opportunity to practice. I had Ride the Lightning almost down, and I was feeling extremely pleased with myself.

 I dashed out of the house before anyone could reprimand me for practicing Metallica at a little past seven in the morning. I grabbed a sandwich and pulled my bag together. Now, I had to pretend I was just a normal, happy student. Yeah.

 School didn’t fly by, but it was blurry. Mostly because I napped in and out of my lessons. Music class was the only redeeming quality for me, and I didn’t have that today. By the time the end of this dreary Thursday rolled around, I was bored and ready to go.

 I started walking home. Because we lived in the not-so-nice part of town, I had to walk through a couple of alleyways and the like. I’d done this every day since the sixth grade, so I didn’t mind. But something seemed off as I passed into the third alleyway.