The Resistance { Teaser [Coming Soon] }

Chapter Song(s):

Wear Me Out- Skylar Grey
Monster- Mikky Ekko

Milena
Days had managed to turn dismal weeks and I had managed to not make a single friend at this uppity school. My mother told me that I wasn’t making myself approachable and she was halfway correct in her assumptions.

I don’t need friends here.

Perhaps the more I resist the social norm, they’ll think somethings wrong with me and send me back home to live with my gran. I would rather live with her anyway. It’s lonely here. London is a huge city compared to Kent, but still with all of the noise, all of the people it still manages to make me feel segregated from all of the others. I’m on the outside looking in, and for the most part I don’t mind it. However, I would like it if my own family would pay attention to me. Not too much where its annoying, but maybe just a small amount that lets me know they’re aware of my existence.

I’ve been walking to and from school now since my mum has started taking time to ‘care for the house’ and ‘prepare for the baby’, and my dad is always working which puts a question in my mind of how my mother could have even gotten pregnant. We’ve been busy since the move, and even before then, dad was buried in his studies. She’s supposed to be barren. No more children. I was supposed to be it. I’ll be fourteen years older than the little brat that comes out of her, and I’m not one for sharing my shit or baby sitting. Not that I have much of a social life right now anyway, but things could be destined to change; if my friends back home ever answer the phone that is.

Another week had passed before I had been able to touch base with anyone in Kent and when I did, I was once again the outsider looking in and not only because I had moved over four thousand miles away. We were all on the phone with each other on what was supposed to be a three way conversation, but I was mostly silent listening as my friends talked to each other about everything that went on at their school that used to be our school that I was missing. When they did remember that I was part of the conversation and asked me how things were in London, I had nothing to say. I’m a loner here. I have no input about general life things, the most I could say is that we finished unpacking.

I have the social intrigue of a hippo .

They continued in conversation and it made a turn for the worst quickly. Apparently, they’ve found an interest in the opposite sex since I’ve been gone and have plenty to say about it. The only encounter I’ve made with a boy here is one of flying snowballs and that of a silent witness to an ass kicking. I hung up the phone from the conversation and I highly doubt they noticed. I’ve lost my friends and have no clue if I will ever make new ones.

Its the idea of starting over, putting in that extra effort to befriend someone who I have no clue about and go through that first awkward phase of talking to them in the first place. Back in Kent, I went to nursery school with my “friends” so it made sense that we became close as school continued to drag along. We had no other choice rather than be together and now I have to find a way to connect myself into a new circle of people that already have the chains locked when it comes to new social entries.

I went back to school as Monday rolled back around and this time I actually saw him in the halls. His hair bounced as he maneuvered quickly along but that was the last time I saw him during the school day. When we were dismissed, I made my usual trek home. My boots crunched in the snow as I tried to avoid other’s footprints and make my own new fresh ones. I don’t like to follow others. Somehow I know I’m destined to make my own path, but until I know what path that is, I’ll start here in the snow.

The slush develops under my boots and as I walk, I can hear that I’m not alone. The sound of footsteps is not behind me, but on the other side of the street. A familiar black hooded parka bobs up and down as he walks and for some reason I feel like he’s following me. I stop in my tracks to see if I’m correct, but he continues along on the other footpath. I can’t see his face once again because of that damned hood, but I can see his breath on the air as he continues to walk. I find it odd. I’ve been walking this way home for weeks now and have almost been the only one who takes this route. He never walks this way.

“Why are you following me?”

I ask, stopping him in his tracks. He looks back at me and cocks his head to the side in a questioning way. Half of his face is covered by his hood again as if he’s trying to hide something, but it’s too late. I notice the black eye, but I don’t say anything; he must have gotten his ass kicked again.

“I’m not following you.”

His voice rasped through his chest making him sound older than the fourteen years that his father claimed that he was. I didn’t expect him to continue talking, but that’s exactly what he did.

“I live this way too. You always seem to get home before I do so I’m taking the shorter route. It’s not like you own this street anyway.”

Now I see why he gets his ass kicked. He has a smart mouth much like myself. Maybe it’s best that I keep my mouth shut and don’t try to really be social. I don’t want to end up like him every day.

“I didn’t say that I owned the street. I just wanted to know why you decided to come this way. You never come this way. You’re always getting picked up or going in the opposite direction.”

“You watch me when I leave school? You’re a little creep! What else have you seen?”

Alistair’s son questions me and I’m taken off guard by his sudden interest. I’m observant, I take in everything around me to the smallest detail, but I haven’t really seen anything unusual about him, except for his ability to throw things.

“Creep? Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black, asshole?! Nothing, I’ve seen nothing. Why are you so antsy?”

“That’s not your business you nosy bitch! Why are you talking to me?”

“I’ve never been called nosy before.” I grabbed the straps of my rucksack before I delivered the last question and final blow to this pointless argument. “Why did you get your ass kicked? Presumably twice seeing as your eye looks almost like your lip did three weeks ago. Weakling.”

Alistair’s son stops with his questioning while chewing on the side of his cheek. He looks at the ground before he continues to walk silently up the pavement, adjusting his hood so that once again all I can see is his breath on the cool winter air.

That’s right. I get the last word, bastard.

We continue to walk on this way on separate sides of the street until we reach our respective homes. Alistair’s son reaches home first. His house is huge and since I’ve been inside it it almost gives off that creepy museum mausoleum feel. I bet they’re not allowed to touch anything.

It’s tragic really when I think about it.

The street that we walked on was a straight shot to his house. I don’t understand why he waited until today to actually take advantage of it. When I got to the end of the street to make a turn down my block, I realized what street it was that I was on. I didn’t own it but apparently he did. STYLES CT. I hurried off of the road to my house that still doesn’t feel like a home and was greeted with the smell of nothing when I walked into the house.

No food is being cooked.

My mum has been home all day and she couldn’t even make me a small lunch. I roll my eyes before I drop my rucksack and my coat and school blazer haphazardly on the ground, groaning as I do. This is the fifth time this week that I’ve had to make lunch and dinner. My mum has been ‘tending to the house’ more than she’s been tending to me. How the hell is she going to deal with another child?! I hope she doesn’t expect me to do it. She didn’t start acting too good to lift a finger until my dad got promoted to this stupid job. This is only week four. I’ll be afraid to see she acts when we hit the two month mark.

“Mum! I’m home!..You didn’t cook?!”

“Milena, stop shouting it’s rude!”

She comes out of nowhere, by which I mean the other room. She holds the door cracked slightly keeping me from fully seeing who she’s entertaining on the other side of the door.

“Sorry. Did you want me to make lunch and dinner, again?”

“No dear. I’ve got it covered.”

What? Dear? She hasn’t called me anything but Milena or ‘Milly’-which I hate- since I’ve been on this earth. She primps her lips and runs a hand through my wild stringy hair to try to get it under some type of control. She insists that if I were to get layers cut into it, it would look as thick as it actually is, but I can’t be bothered to sit down in a chair to allow anyone to do it. Haircuts scare me and the have since the one time I allowed my mum to do it when I was ten. She chopped it off and it was all uneven. It looked like she had done it in the dark. I don’t even like getting the ends clipped now.

I look at her suspiciously as she places her arm around my shoulders and walks me into the room that she magically materialized from. there is a woman sitting on the couch with her legs crossed and her red bottoms swaying back and forth as she shakes her foot lightly. The woman on the couch is the same woman who came into Alistair’s office late during my dad’s business deal. The strikingly beautiful woman on the couch is Alistair Styles’ wife.

“Milena, this is Katilynn Styles, Alistair’s wife.”

I already knew.

The woman on the couch stands and offers her hand out to me after putting her phone in the back pocket of her black skinny jean trousers. I shake it and grin politely despite the fact that I don’t really feel like having company right now. I really wanted to take off my annoying school clothes go in my room and relax after today, but knowing my mum that can’t happen now until Mrs. Styles leaves.

“She’s beautiful. You have a gorgeous girl Madeline.” The woman says eyeing me up and down, making me feel more awkward than normal.

“And I hope to have another one just like her.”

My mum squeezes my shoulder and looks down at me lovingly. She just told a lie. A blatant one right in front of my face. I heard her say to my dad that she wants a boy because they’re easier to deal with, but if she has another girl, she wants her to be more ladylike than me, whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean. I’m not a horrible person for not wanting to own only skirts and penny loafers. No one even wears clothes like that now. She’s stuck in the past and needs to accept that just because I don’t curtsey and bat my eyelashes like a child of the eighteen hundreds it doesn’t make me any less of a girl.

“She can’t be any older than my Harold.”

Katilynn speaks again, distracting me from my mum’s off behavior. Harold? I have to bite my cheeks to keep from chuckling. What an old name.

Harold.

“ Harold is an asshole who deserves every blow he has coming to him.”

“Milena!”

My mother’s shrieks is the only evidence I have letting me know that my thoughts have become spoken words. The woman who was on the couch, also known as Katilynn Styles shows a tight lipped grin at my remark that I am unremorseful about.

“Apologize! Now!”

My mother’s blue eyes frost over and her voice lowers an entire octave. As my imagination gets the better of me, horns emerge from beneath the skin on her forehead and her tongue forks in the middle. I’ve embarrassed her and in turn unleashed the devil.

“S-sorry Mrs. Styles I didn’t mean to” yes I did “ speak harshly about your son.”

“It’s alright. Harry can be a bit–hard to deal with sometimes and children will be children. Alistair and I are trying to break that defiant spirit of his, but it is strong. I understand, trust me.”

Alistair’s wife smirked at me and it made me furrow my eyebrows at her before my mum cut in.

“There is absolutely nothing ‘alright’ with what she said about your son. Milina go to your room and stay there! No dinner for you tonight and I was and still am going to make your favorites.”

“But mum I’m starving and I said I was sorry! You don’t know what happened on the way home from school today! He–”

“Enough! I don’t want to hear anymore! You’re stressing me out and I don’t need that right now!” My mother rested her hand on her flat stomach that held the evil spawn of her and my father growing in it. “Upstairs now!”

I turned around with a huff and before the door of the room could close behind me, Katilynn Styles smirked at me again with an apologetic look in her eyes that didn’t settle right with me. That smirk and the fact that she stated that she wanted to ‘break the spirit’ of her son made me think that there was something more going on behind her beautiful grey eyes.

Something about Katilynn Styles is evil.

Notes

Hi guys Sorry it's been a while since the last update, but juggling two stories is harder for me than I imagined it would be. I will try to be more prompt with the next one. How are you all? What did you think of the chapter??? What is going on with Harold and Katilynn Styles? It seems I have two more characters to add to the list! Please load me up with comments and also vote and subscribe!!!

LOVE YOU ALL FOR READING Xx :*