Fan-fiction.

Glee Candy; Annie Fredricks.

Thursday 4th April.

"Welcome home" Dad smiles.

I smile back. But it's forced. It doesn't feel like home. It feels like a motel; temporary, short-term.

I stand, facing my new house. I know what's inside the big oak door; my step Mom Janie, smiley and perfect and nice, and my gay step brother Blaine. Also smiley and perfect. And tanned and good looking. They're both really nice and stuff, but whatever. They feel temporary too. They're not my real family.

And I'm going to have to start my whole life over: New School, New House, and New Friends. New patterns and places. The only thing the same was myself. And not even that will stay the same for long. You wanna know how it got to this? Me standing outside a new house with a family which I didn't want to be a part of?

Well, I came home from a party one night. Alcohol had been served and I didn't exactly decline when someone had offered me some. So I was wrecked. And I came home to my Mom, and a bunch of losers, all ten times more drunk than I was. I got closer, with the slings of my high heels hooked over my fingers; and I saw her, head bent over a line of cocaine.

"Mom!" I'd shouted in disgust. I knew she was having problems, but this was too far.

She didn't even look up. She just slurred: "Go to bed honey"

"Oh get screwed!" I yelled.

She raised her head, and stood up. "You're drunk!" She even tripped a little as she walked, her finger pointed at me the whole way.

"At least I'm not drunk and high."

"Ugh, whatever,"

"I'm the kid, Mom!" my tears spilled over. "I'm the kid! You're supposed to help me to bed, and be sitting with me in the morning, with pills and a sick bowl for my hangover! Not the other way around!"

"Yeah, yeah sweetie,"

"I can't do this anymore. I'm done," I shrugged, simply because I didn't know what else to do.

"Okay, I'll see you in the morning,"

"No, you won't. I'm going,"

"Going where?" she frowned.

"Dad's," I told her, storming up the stairs.

"Well, what're you going there for?"

"Because he has a life; which he has control of, unlike the messy excuse that you call a life. I'm tired. I'm tired because I'm doing everything that you're supposed to do, and I'm failing everything because of it. I need school, and I'm not getting anywhere and it's all because of you and this stupid place. I'll leave in the morning,"

"Shouldn't we talk about this?"

I stopped and turned on the middle step; "I have nothing more to say to you," and with that, I walked up the staircase, and packed.

Well, as much as I could. It was impossible to get the whole contents of my wardrobe and drawers into two suitcases, so I left the rest for later.

The next morning when my Mom was sprawled across the sofa, passed out, I called Dad and got on the train.

And then, there I was.

And that was how I got here.

"You ready to go in kiddo? I'll bring your trunk,"

I nod, and walk towards the door.