FicWad

A/N: So, this is my first fanfic... Don't expect it to be amazing. But you can expect frequent updates! It's based on my childhood, with the lovely thing that is young P!ATD thrown in. Song title is from My Heart by Paramore. Don't own the boys, sigh. Review, enjoy.
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I ran down the hallway of the apartment my mother and I shared, screaming, crying. It was like this every evening.
"You useless whore, you come to me with this, this [failure]?!," she spat as she waved my B+ math test in my face. I tried to cover my already-bruised face, but it was no use. She took her short height as an advantage and punched my stomach, which was eye-level for her. She chased me into the kitchen, reached into a drawer, and pulled out a bread knife. "Strip!," she ordered. I took off my clothes obidently, leaving only underwear. She slowly removed her leather belt. "You deserve this, you fucking stupid slut!," she screamed as the belt cracked against my hip. It wasn't bleeding, thank God. It was red and swollen, however, leaving raised skin. It cracked again as she circled me, hitting my back. This time, it drew blood. I felt the crimson liquid drip onto my ankles. I found that if I didn't cry as she beat me, she would get bored and stop. I prayed that she was as tired as I was so that she would stop. "Now get out of my sight, you ugly, fat, worthless piece of shit!," she screamed.
I sprinted to my room at the end of the hall; the pain all over my body was pulsating. I looked at myself in my mirror to asses the damage.
"Shit," I muttered. The gash on my back wasn't dripping anymore, but it would leave a huge scar. The rest of me would be bruised in stripes, but the bruises were in places that would be easy to cover with clothes. I quietly tiptoed into the bathroom and poured rubbing alcohol onto my back and ran an ice-cold bath for my bruised body. I lowered myself into the freezing water, shivering and crying. I stayed until my lips were purple and the water was pink. I waited until I no longer heard the television blaring down the hall until I slowly crawled into my room. I carefully put on my pajamas, which reminded me of the damage to my body. I winced as my shirt clung to my wounded back, crawled onto my bed, and prayed for sleep or death to take me.
The next morning, she'd be asleep until about noon, so at five, I awoke to my alarm clock, instantly sighing of relief. I rolled out of bed and cleaned my room to my mother's OCD standards. I crept silently into the bathroom, where I assessed my face and neck for bruises. My lip was split, and my left eye was black. She'd been gentler than usual last night, I thought. I washed my face and dressed in a long-sleeved, black Smashing Pumpkins tee shirt and skinny jeans. I straightened my auburn and bleached hair and put it in a loose ponytail, letting my bangs fall onto my face. I covered my bruises perfectly with makeup, added thick black eyeliner, and let my naturally red lips roam free. I put in my lip ring, grabbed my Weezer tote bag, and left for school.
As I pulled into the school parking lot in my VW Type Two, yes, the hippie van, and greeted my gorgeous boyfriend, Ryan. His deep, honey colored eyes gave me a quick once-over to decide if a hug would be a good idea. Based on the fact that I was wearing long sleeves and long jeans in the ninety degree Las Vegas weather, he decided against it.
"Good morning, beautiful," he said as he took my small, delicate hand in his and kissed it gently. "How bad is it?," he asked, as the sparkle in his eyes turned to worry.
"I've been better," I replied, "but I've also been worse." I stood on my tiptoes and let my soft lips brush his perfectly pink ones. He carefully pulled me closer, his large hands barely touching my bruised waist. I allowed my hands to gently graze at his soft, fauxhawk-ed, caramel-colored hair. He deepened the kiss, his gentle tongue brushing my pieced lower lip. I allowed him entry, and we stood beside my van, comforting each other.
I heard an overly enthusiastic cat call, followed by giggles.
"Nicole and Ryan, sittin' in a tree, m-a-c-k-i-n-g!," shouted Brendon Urie, our best friend. He was good looking, with ebony spiked hair, fair skin, and large, pouty lips. Most of the scene girls in our schools drooled over him, but I didn't see him that way. "I swear, one day you guys are going to be fucking in that hippie van, and I will be laughing my ass off."
"Brendon, fuck off," Ryan countered jokingly. He bent down to deliver a soft peck on my cheek as he turned around to grin at Brendon.
"Hey, guys!," Spencer Smith and Jon Walker shouted in unison. They were Ryan's friends and band mates. All the guys were in this band called Panic! At The Disco. They were really, really good in all of the people in our group's opinion. Brendon skipped his hyper self to the other guys while Ryan grabbed my hand and led me to my locker. I wouldn't see him until music, which was fourth period, the second to last of the day. I kissed him gently before grabbing my things and dashing off to home room.
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The day went by pretty fast, and soon enough, I was in music. Music was taught in a huge room with choir risers in the middle, a wall of acoustic guitars, and a huge grand piano in the front. The teacher was a young guy, fresh out of college, and he wanted us to call him Mike. The students were expected to sit on the chairs placed on the risers, and we could pick our seats. Naturally, I sat between Ryan and Brendon.
"I missed you," Ryan whispered as his hand squeezed mine. I stared into his beautiful, deep eyes and saw the love in them.
"Ok, break it up, love birds," said Mikey. "Ok, I don't know what I want to do today, so any one person," he said, while eying Brendon, Ryan, Jon, and Spencer "with musical talent can do something in front of the class."
"Nicole would love to!," Ryan shouted. I playfully elbowed him in the ribs as I reluctantly
dragged myself to the piano. I sat down and began playing Ryan and I's song, "Your Guardian Angel" by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. After playing the intro, I let softly began to sing.
When I see your smile, tears roll down my face. I can't replace...
My voice slowly grew stronger and the emotion in it truly showed my love for Ryan. As I got towards the end, I was belting and my fingers were dancing gracefully across the keys.
Use me as you will, pull my strings just for a thrill. And I know I'll be ok, though my skies are turning grey...
As I finished the song, all of the scene kids in the class (and trust me, there were plenty.) erupted into applause, while the preps sneered.
"Now, THAT, class, is talent!," said Mikey. The rest of the scene kids showed off their talents, and no one noticed that Ryan was holding my hand the entire time.
"I love you, Nicole. Plus que ma propre vie," he whispered into my ear. I knew that meant 'more than my own life' in French, seeing as we had French together next period. I took my ball point pen and wrote on his hand, je t'amie plus, which means I love you more. He took my hand and kissed it gently as we ignored the rest of the class, and the next one, just writing notes and holding hands the entire time.
When the school day ended, Ryan looked into my eyes as his lips met mine. He gently sucked on my lower lip, and he lightly nipped my lip ring. His thumb smoothed my cheek as I shed a single tear, knowing that I had to leave his arms for my hell at home.
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