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Rated: E · Preface · Emotional · #1590641
Two teenagers completely different from each other and this is how their story started.
Etta

Etta rushed through the door, slamming it shut. She dumped her jacket by the entrance and stomped into the living room with her shoes still on. Nobody came to check what was wrong, of course not. They didn't even care enough to complain about their polished living room getting dirty foot prints all over it. They were probably too busy, as always.

She felt more annoyed than she normally did. And truth be told, she was normally annoyed too, but now, the fresh bruises made it even worse. And it didn't really matter that she was the one who had won the fight, because the insult was still ringing in her ears. That someone even dared to speak to her like that.. She would have thought they knew by now to not mess with her, but obviously not.

After she had made her way to the kitchen, an unfortunate apple got to experience her anger as she stabbed it to pieces.

She ate the remains as she walked towards the other side of the house. Not that she really cared if they were home or not, but she had a unpleasant feeling. Like the house was abandoned.

And although she wasn't quite right, the feeling was explained when she continued to her parents offices and noticed the emptiness. That part of the house was almost completely bare, and judging from the moving boxes, more of their belongings were to disappear as well. Looking for an explanation, she found her mother.

"Would you mind telling me what's going on?" Etta asked, and managed to make it sound more like an accusation.

Her mother cringed, not wanting a confrontation with an already angry daughter.

"Well... Etta, we're moving. I know this is a bit sudden for you, but your father and I have found work elsewhere. In Mellöv."

Etta glowered at her mother before opening her mouth. This was not Etta's idea of the perfect day.

Emanuel

Emanuel was at the library, reading, as always. This was his means of escaping reality, and it really worked. But when he paused to change book, his thoughts came back to bother him.

He was used to his father bossing him around, but this was the second time this year Emanuel had to start a new school. There was always a teacher to annoy Erik Lauritz, the always so high and mighty man. Although it bothered Emanuel, he would never tell.

Unfortunately, reading didn't allow him to ignore reality and he would just have to face a new week in a new school. Couldn't be too bad, wasn't all schools the same? Still, the thought of it gave him a head-ache.

Forced to leave when the library closed for the day, he walked home through the same streets as always. It was already past sunset, a proof of the chilly winter getting closer, but the streets were still bustling with people as always.

As the library happened to be one of his favorite places, he had walked the same way more times than he could count, even knowing the subway schedule by heart. It didn't take long to get home, not long enough. Every second of the travel was better than being at home.

Finally at the door step, he entered the villa he shared with his family. Tiptoeing as to avoid unneeded attention from his parents, he was greeted by a smile from the opposite of the corridor, a gentle welcoming from his sister. Returning the smile, he closed the door and sighed. Just another gloomy Thursday.


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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1590641-The-Number-One---Prologue