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May. 6th, 2005 10:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nitro_is_aceDorothy scaled the brick wall separating the street from the yard of her parent's house with practiced ease. She wasn't particularly quiet about it - odds were her da was once again 'pulling a graveyard shift', better known around the McShane home as 'seeing that two-faced bitch whore'. Mum was probably either drunk or drugged into sleep, whichever took her fancy tonight. For years now no one has been waiting for Dorothy to come home.
Her parents never gave her a key to the house, not knowing or not caring that they locked her out most nights. Sometimes the door was unlocked, if mum checked out early and da never bothered to come home. Tonight was an unlucky night - she'd have to pick the lock again. She'd gotten rather good at it, though she never quite worked up the nerve to try the front door. No matter how fast she got, someone would be sure to notice her attempting to jimmy the lock, and God knows she didn't need any more trouble with the law. She's already on their watch list, due to the crowd she ran with and her tendency towards violence at the schoolyard. It didn't matter if most times she was only finishing what someone else had started - with her history, the officials usually came down hard on her, even if she was just in the area.
No one was waiting up tonight, living up to Dorothy's expectations. Once she slipped inside the darkened house and re-locked the door behind her, she did a quick scout around. She found her mum crashed out in front of the flickering telly, a drained bottle of whiskey at her side. Her da was nowhere to be found. She switched off the telly, which garnered no reaction from her mum, and headed off to the kitchen for something to eat.
The apples were a wash, soft and fuzzy and completely inedible. The loaf of bread she found a bit later was in better shape, only a bit stale, but not any unusual colors or textures. She dumped two slices into the toaster and set about making a decent cup of tea. As she hunted for the teakettle, she found a few more things to add to her meal.
Dinner turned out to be tea with toast and marmite, with a bowl of tinned peaches on the side. She'd have to scrounge around the house for money tomorrow and go shopping, or they'd all starve. Or die of food poisoning from the apples. As she sat at the kitchen counter and listened to her mum's drunken snoring, and ate her dinner, she decided that there must be a better place than this. Somehow, she'd get there, someday.
Her parents never gave her a key to the house, not knowing or not caring that they locked her out most nights. Sometimes the door was unlocked, if mum checked out early and da never bothered to come home. Tonight was an unlucky night - she'd have to pick the lock again. She'd gotten rather good at it, though she never quite worked up the nerve to try the front door. No matter how fast she got, someone would be sure to notice her attempting to jimmy the lock, and God knows she didn't need any more trouble with the law. She's already on their watch list, due to the crowd she ran with and her tendency towards violence at the schoolyard. It didn't matter if most times she was only finishing what someone else had started - with her history, the officials usually came down hard on her, even if she was just in the area.
No one was waiting up tonight, living up to Dorothy's expectations. Once she slipped inside the darkened house and re-locked the door behind her, she did a quick scout around. She found her mum crashed out in front of the flickering telly, a drained bottle of whiskey at her side. Her da was nowhere to be found. She switched off the telly, which garnered no reaction from her mum, and headed off to the kitchen for something to eat.
The apples were a wash, soft and fuzzy and completely inedible. The loaf of bread she found a bit later was in better shape, only a bit stale, but not any unusual colors or textures. She dumped two slices into the toaster and set about making a decent cup of tea. As she hunted for the teakettle, she found a few more things to add to her meal.
Dinner turned out to be tea with toast and marmite, with a bowl of tinned peaches on the side. She'd have to scrounge around the house for money tomorrow and go shopping, or they'd all starve. Or die of food poisoning from the apples. As she sat at the kitchen counter and listened to her mum's drunken snoring, and ate her dinner, she decided that there must be a better place than this. Somehow, she'd get there, someday.
