Thunder - Prologue & Chapter One

Hey everyone, it's Lize Raj-Pamin here with a new plotline!!! <3 :) hope you guys love it, here's the prologue and chapter one....
Those are the characters 0.o =D
-LIZE
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THUNDER
PROLOGUE – Nine Years Ago
The moment Linda consented to letting us out with the little wooden toboggan my father had constructed for us; we were out the door and halfway up the hill.

The snow’s pure-white glare hurt my eyes and the sun made me squint. I could see my breath as fog and my nose already felt like it might drop off.

The hill was maddeningly tall. It was a quest - a goal. Have to make it to the top, have to make it to the top! I kept telling myself. I smashed my well-worn boots into the hard packed half ice/ half snow mixture that covered the ground.

When I finally reached the peak, I turned to Katherine, my older sister by two and a half minutes, who is still climbing the hill, her breath laboured.

"I… hate… the… snow!" She complained between each breath (she normally complained), "So… hard… to… walk!"

I smiled widely, "But that’s the best part!!"

She looks at me as if I’m crazy.

"See, Kat, once you get to the top, you’re proud you made it. And then you get to slide down really fast before climbing up again!" I say.

"It’s… POINTLESS!" She exaggerates. "After… this one… I’m… done."

"But this is only the first!" I cry. I’m not allowed at the hill unless Kathryn is with me.

She makes the ‘I’m-older-you-have-to-do-as-I-say’ face and says, "that’s too darn bad, isn’t it!?"

I pout, but don’t respond. I know I do not have a choice. Although she is only older by two minutes, she acts older than seven. Linda always puts her in charge.

Kathryn and I get on the toboggan (me sort of reluctant), and pushed off, so that we started sliding down the hill. We hit a patch of ice and Kat screams and I laugh as we’re turned the wrong way. We crash into the barbed-wire fence there.

Kathryn is whimpering that she’s scarred for life and I just pull away, not affected. I gaze up at the top of the hill longingly. If only I could go again.

But my butt is soaked through the cheap snow pants Linda had bought me already so I want to go inside. I’m cold and wet and a hot chocolate would be amazing right now.

Kathryn starts trudging back to the house and I stare at my feet as they go through the high snow towards the townhouse entrance.

I look over my shoulder towards the hill and see that there is a boy there standing at the top. What I wouldn’t give to be with him, I think, before turning back to the front and entering the cold unheated townhouse hallway, walking till we reached our door and went inside.

Linda was in the kitchen smoking. She glared at us when we walked in, and I knew I wouldn’t be getting hot chocolate. Not that I’ve ever had it here, only at friends’ houses. But I can still wish for it.

"Why are you little snots back so soon!?" Linda asks; her eyes dazed. She’s been drinking again.

"Sorry Lin- Mom." Kathryn immediately corrects herself. Linda gets mad if we don’t call her ‘mom.’

"You know, if you two hadn’t been born, me and your father would still be together! It’s your fault. You were mistakes." Linda says.

Yes, she’s told us this before. We just look at the floor as she pounds hurt into me. Kathryn grabs onto my hand and for once I’m glad that she has to be older. Because if I was the one who had to take care of Kat just because I was two minutes older, I don’t know if I could.

We’re only seven. I still don’t really understand what she means by everything she says. I just know that each and every sentence hurts me very much. All the way down inside of me. To the very core of my heart. Kat’s hand inside mine keeps me rational and safe.

Linda starts to cry and sends us out.

That was the day that Kathryn died.
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Chapter One – Not-So-Sweet Sixteen
Linda makes a snide comment about how I should limit myself to only one chip as I walk by her with a small bowl full.

I don’t say a word and once I’m past her I narrow my eyes and the hand that isn’t holding the bowl of chips folds into a tight fist.

I am not fat. I am AVERAGE! I hold a steady weight of one hundred and twelve pounds. For my height, this happens to be five foot two inches, one hundred and twelve pounds for a weight is pretty damn good. I have good curves, a great bust line (if I do say so myself), a flat stomach (which I am very proud of) and an awesome butt (which I love to flaunt).

Now, I’m not one of those girls who is ‘oh-I’m-so-much-prettier-than-you,’ so don’t get that idea. I’m just okay with the way I look. I love my body. Most girls don’t. And with a verbally abusive mother; the accomplishment of being able to love the curves I have, is a pretty damn good one.

I walk through the small bungalow that we own, yellow and nice on the outside but pale and unforgiving on the inside. The walls are all different tones of off-white and grey. My room is a colour explosion compared to that.

When we first moved in, Linda told me I couldn’t paint my room for re-selling purposes. It was supposed to stay this dull off-white/puke yellow colour. Ha, not for long. I went out and bought a bit of paint for every bright colour I saw, splattering the walls and creating a masterpiece of abstract artwork, until the off-white/puke yellow colour was no more.

Linda had been horrified. She’s still on my case about it, but she never re-painted. I perch on my bed and put the bowl of chips in my lap. I decide that I need out of this house, I need to get some air. I need reality to hit me: I’m finally sixteen.

I finish the bowl and stand, changing quickly into my red booty shorts and a long black tank top. I slipped on my blue flip-flops and went down the hall.

"Kathryn!? Where are you going?" Linda called. I flinched, she is very drunk. She only calls me by my dead twin sisters’ name when she’s been drinking vodka mixed with a strawberry cooler. I honestly don’t see how that could be any good, but its Linda’s favourite drink.

I open the door, but turn back to look at her.

"Mom," Linda gets mad when I call her by her first name, although I’ve always thought of her as Linda - I can’t remember a time I’d ever thought of her as my mother. "It’s Rachelle. Kathryn died nine years ago."

Her eyes are blank for a couple seconds until she’s processed what I’ve said. Her eyes then flash with fury - plain and simple. "And it’s your fault! Get out of my house, you hear me!? Don’t come back, get out of my sight!"

Ouch, low blow there, Linda. I knew it was my fault Kathryn died. If I hadn’t of tried to run away by packing all my things in that Mickey Mouse bag that day and jumped out the window, she wouldn’t have come after me. She wouldn’t have crossed the street without looking. She wouldn’t have gotten run over. It was my fault.

I nodded to my mom. I would be back in the morning anyway, when she would’ve forgotten about kicking me out. I stroll out the door to her insults, calling me a mistake, fat, worthless… all that stupid stuff.

I close the door on her last, "Don’t come back, hear me!??"

"Yeah, mom." I say to the closed door, the words she’s calling me getting through the wall I put up inside me and I state in a hurt voice, "Loud and clear."

Even though I know she’s drunk, it still hurts, you know? I turn from the door and stare at the sidewalk under my feet as I start to walk, before running into something hard and fleshy.

I stumble backwards, about to fall (I have such bad balance and co-ordination…) when two strong arms wrap around me, keeping me up.

I regain my balance and look up as my dirty blonde hair falls away and I meet eyes with the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.

He was about four inches taller than me. He has straight blue/ black hair. He has these gorgeous blue eyes that were clear and deep. His smile was beautiful, and shiny, and he had a silver lip ring on the left side of his face. When he laughed, it was musical and light.

"You okay, there?" He asked; his smile as bright as the day, but his voice concerned. I couldn’t help staring at the lip ring… sexy, I thought.

I wondered, frantic, if he had heard any of the fight I’d had with my mother. Or how much.

His expression became serious in an instant; and as if he could read my mind, he asked, "What was that shouting about?"

His voice was concerned. His arms around me burned flame into my back and sides – a good flame, though, an excited flame. Wait, what? An excited flame? Whoa, Rachelle, you’ve only just met the guy.

I faked a smile and tried to wiggle my way out of his arms - with no purchase. "What shouting?"

"The one where your mother was kicking you out of the house, said you were worthless, and that you were responsible for your sisters’ death." His face was so pitying and sympathetic.

Crap, he had heard everything. I blush deep red. "Oh, that? That’s nothing; Linda is just a little intoxicated right now… she’ll forget she kicked me out in the morning. I just have to stay clear of her until then." I tried to explain, feeling trapped. (But also kind of like I never wanted him to let go - hell, he is really hot! And he seems so nice….)

His eyes were concerned, as well as the shape of his lips. When he spoke his voice was etched with it. "Where are you going to stay?"

"Oh, I’ll probably just go to the park." Referring to the large, unused park around the corner.

And with that sentence, it started to rain. Distant thunder echoed. His arms loosened as he looked up, surprised, at the dark sky; as if he’d never seen it coming. I take that chance and tear myself a little - okay, a lot- reluctantly from his warm, comfortable arms.

I turn and say over the thunder, which has suddenly increased (crazy Canadian weather), "Talk to you later!"

I break into a jog, running into the park and hiding under a tree. Thunder claps loudly above me and I find myself curled into a ball, whimpering. Tears start to fall from my brown eyes. Crap.

I’m terrified of thunder.

Suddenly I find myself being easily picked up from the wet, dirty ground. I keep my eyes closed, unwilling to see who has kidnapped me.

When his voice tells me exactly who he is. "Haven’t you heard, the worst place to be in a thunderstorm is under a tree?"

"I thought it was in water." I respond, my voice shaky.

"Well, there’s that." The hot guy who I had just managed to get away from says.

Thunder claps again and the witty response I had is forgotten. I curl farther towards him, cowering into his soft, blue and black stripped shirt, clutching onto his toned, muscular chest.

"Are you afraid of lightning?" He asked. I couldn’t tell what type of tone he was using. I couldn’t tell the emotions behind it. Humour? Concern?

I had no more time to think on it or even answer because the thunder clapped again and I whimpered louder.

"Thunder." I corrected, shaking more.

This time he did laugh, as if it’s humorous! Jerk. But he tucked me like a football into his chest, and ran from the park. I had no idea where we were going, but I was okay if I was going with him.

Why did I feel so safe with him!? I have no clue. But I do, so I don’t even struggle, I just fold more into him, breathing in his safe scent of peppermint and lemon as he carries me away from the storm. My eyes close again as I rest my forehead on his masculine chest.

When he unlocks a door and opens it, bringing me inside, closing the door behind him. "I’m home!" He calls out to whoever was inside. I open my blue eyes and see light blue walls and a bright yellow living room, definitely different from my house.

I’m in his house!? I don’t have time to freak out, though, because even though the sound is far less loud in the house, I can still hear the thunder, and it’s definitely freaking me out. If I was at my house right now, I would be curled up in a dark place somewhere, alone.

"Axel? Did you get caught in the storm?" A woman’s voice, his mothers probably, calls from somewhere, concern in her voice.

His name is Axel? I like that name…. And I can’t help but be jealous of his mothers’ concern.

A little girl, of about six it looked, came running into the room. "Axel, Axel, its thunder and lightning, come look, come look! So pretty and…" She freezes, seeing me. "Who’s she?"

The little girl was very cute, with short crazy brown hair, and the same clear blue eyes as Axel has. Her eyes were bright and excited, but also confused. They were wide and innocent.

I know Axel doesn’t know my name, so I go to answer her, but thunder claps loudly and I practically jump in his arms, twisting so that I was facing his stomach again and clutching onto his shirt, my blonde hair falling around my face.

"What’s wrong with her?" I hear the little girl ask. I realise I’m shaking a little (okay a lot).

"She’s scared of thunder, that’s all." Axel answers her.

"Who is?" I hear the woman’s voice again, much closer now.

"She’s pretty." Says the little girl. I turn my head to look at her, and try my best to smile. She comes closer to me, "You don’t have to be afraid, you know. It’s just thunder."

"I know that, I’ve just been scared since I was a little girl of thunder. I can’t help it and…" Thunder claps again, even louder, and I shake worse, hiding again in the folds of Axel’s arms.

He rubs my back soothingly. "It’s okay, I’m here." He whispers in my ear.

"She’s funny!" The little girl laughs, "I like her."

"Catherine likes someone!?" The woman’s footsteps enter the room and she gasps, "Who is this!?"

"I found her." Axel says, as if it happened all the time. But by the family’s reactions, I don’t think it ever happened before. And I also can’t help but feel like a stray dog. ‘I found her’ can’t you imagine a little kid saying that about a stray dog or cat or something?

"Found her where?" The woman asks. "What’s wrong with her? Why’s she shaking?"

The thunder claps again and I start whimpering.

"She’s terrified of thunder." Axel says. "I found her outside her home, where her drunken mother had just kicked her out. She was saying things like how she was worthless, fat, ugly, and a whore… even more horrid things than that. I had to see if she was okay… and then it started thundering. She completely broke down, terrified with fright. So I brought her home."

I still don’t look at the woman. I keep myself tucked in Axel’s chest. His explanation made me feel pathetic.

"There have been thunderstorms before. How does she deal with them by herself?" His mother’s voice is more sympathetic, but still wary.

"Obviously, she dealt with it by curling up into the fatal position, rocking back and forth, whimpering, alone." Axel says with a rude tone.

The woman sighs.

"Come on, mom, just let her stay here until the storm blows over, I’ll keep her company." Axel asks.

So the woman is his mother.

Thunder clap. Whimper. Shake. It’s somehow even louder.

"Fine. Just take her up to your room, and don’t bother me, please. But I want her gone by the time the storm is over. Especially since you don’t even know her name. What if she’s some poor homeless girl who is just using you and acting this whole skit out for a place to stay?" His mother says as if I’m not here.

I wonder what she’d say if she knew my father owned a large department store, meaning I was rich. Even if I didn’t live with him, he was the one paying Linda to be a stay-at-home-jerk.

"Mom. Seriously?" Is all Axel says, before I feel him start up the stairs.

"Talk to you later!" The little girl, Catherine, calls out to me. I whimper back as thunder claps.

We get to his bedroom, and he slides off my shoes before he sets me down on my feet. He gives me a large shirt and some clean boxers from his drawer, and turns around. Obviously he didn’t want me sleeping in jeans and a T-shirt. So I change, shaking badly, and then once I’m done, I clear my throat with a loud whimper after that, falling to the floor into the fatal position and shaking - just the scenario he explained to his mother.

Axel turns around and picks me up, tucking me under his bed sheet and a large navy blue comforter, and then he undresses quickly before hopping in the bed with me. He was naked except for black boxers. God he’s so hot. He puts his arms around me and I rest my arms on his bare muscular chest.

There, in his embrace, I don’t hear the thunder. There, I’m not scared. There, in a boy’s bare chest, my eyes slowly slid to a close. I was sharing a bed with a boy who did not even know my name. But he wasn’t trying anything on me. He just traced patterns into my back with his soft, tender fingertips and hummed a sweet melody.

Soon I was asleep.
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LIZE