SweatBandit
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Pessimism For Beginners
Joined: December 4, 2011
Last Seen: 7 years
Birthday: June 13
user id: 246566
Location: Hastings, England
Gender: F
Joined: December 4, 2011
Last Seen: 7 years
Birthday: June 13
user id: 246566
Location: Hastings, England
Gender: F
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23,957 Favorites
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I haven't been here for a while, so I'm sure as hell not going to make this pretty. I have no layout - although I used to change it every week. I have quite a few Quotes that got onto the Top Today page back when you needed at least five hundred hearts to make it into the top five pages. This website has gone downhill and it reminds me a lot of a graveyard with a lot of bodies that haven't been buried.
Nevertheless, I am here now, if only to go through my old page and write this biography.
So here we go.
I was born almost seventeen years ago, with injections of salt water into my veins and surgery of smiling at strangers following directly afterwards. I broke my first bone around the time I was seven, when I ran up some steps in the playground. My swimming exam was that evening and I started drowning in the pool - that's what made us go to hospital.
There is a fountain in my town in the middle of a road; we use it as a roundabout or a place to sit and watch fireworks - at least, we did until this year (2015) because they have now put a fence up around it when we have events, because otherwise, someone would throw dye or soap (or both) into the water and it would take a week to clean it all out.
My brother lives in Wales now, which means the back-water town of the lower East of England I live in feels a slight bit more bareable, with a lot more leg room. He is two years older than I am, although he looks two years younger, and we rarely get along. I remember that he tried drowning me once - but the lifeguard didn't notice, and my parents didn't believe me.
I love writing and breathing, as if they were one in the same. I like it when ink pours from veins, and punctation is writen in the bruises. I've always hoped to have that; that everytime I scrape my knee or fall out of bed, I'll find I pool of letters and fonts. But instead, I find blood. Which is far more disappointing.
I hope you're not hoping for anything when you look at my page, because all you'll find is a fourteen year old, stuck in time, in motion, in her mind, and really, I don't think that'll be helpful for anyone.
Nevertheless, I am here now, if only to go through my old page and write this biography.
So here we go.
I was born almost seventeen years ago, with injections of salt water into my veins and surgery of smiling at strangers following directly afterwards. I broke my first bone around the time I was seven, when I ran up some steps in the playground. My swimming exam was that evening and I started drowning in the pool - that's what made us go to hospital.
There is a fountain in my town in the middle of a road; we use it as a roundabout or a place to sit and watch fireworks - at least, we did until this year (2015) because they have now put a fence up around it when we have events, because otherwise, someone would throw dye or soap (or both) into the water and it would take a week to clean it all out.
My brother lives in Wales now, which means the back-water town of the lower East of England I live in feels a slight bit more bareable, with a lot more leg room. He is two years older than I am, although he looks two years younger, and we rarely get along. I remember that he tried drowning me once - but the lifeguard didn't notice, and my parents didn't believe me.
I love writing and breathing, as if they were one in the same. I like it when ink pours from veins, and punctation is writen in the bruises. I've always hoped to have that; that everytime I scrape my knee or fall out of bed, I'll find I pool of letters and fonts. But instead, I find blood. Which is far more disappointing.
I hope you're not hoping for anything when you look at my page, because all you'll find is a fourteen year old, stuck in time, in motion, in her mind, and really, I don't think that'll be helpful for anyone.
Quotes by SweatBandit
How team names work in my school:
1. Gina and Jess
2. Soup
3. The Bro Code
4. Adam The Gay Rabbit
1. Gina and Jess
2. Soup
3. The Bro Code
4. Adam The Gay Rabbit
I run into the
wall
just to check
I'm still alive
just to check
I'm still alive
R.I.P.
Mitchell Adam Lucker, 1984 - 2012
The World Will Never Be As Loud
Suicide Silence Frontman, Beloved Husband & Father
R.I.P.
Mitchell Lee Lucker, 1984 - 2012
The World Will Never Be As Loud
Suicide Silence Frontman, Beloved Husband & Father
♥ ♥
Living In
The
BACKSTREETS
Chapter 4
BACKSTREETS
Chapter 4
2012
After a few minutes, I leave Lark. He asked to be alone, and I respect that. But now, as I'm walking back inside the building, I have no idea who I'm going to talk to now. I don't want to be alone - but it seems that everyone else does. I sigh, and place a hand on a metal pillar.
This is the main storage area of the warehouse - the place where everything would've been kept if it were used for it's proper use. The walls are at least thirty metres apart, grey with broken or boarded up windows. The floor looks the same as the walls. Above me is the first floor, and above that, the second.
I think about going to find Kelsey, but what comfort is there in a younger, emotionless sister? I slide my back down the pillar until I reach the floor. I notice someone do the same on the pillar around five metres to my left - but I don't look.
We sit like this for a few minutes before the other person speaks up.
"Don't expect me to comfort you, Eliott," the male voice said.
"I don't expect anything, Noah," I reply, still looking straight ahead at the crack in the far-away way. It branches out in random patterns, growing from the floor to the ceiling.
"Good," Noah says. Noah is the last one anyone would expect to be comforting. He's harsh and cold as ice. Noah was there, though. That's all I'm interested in.
"So what happened?" I ask, making sure I'm not looking at him.
"That night?" Noah asks. "Lark didn't lead like he was supposed to."
"Don't go blaming this all on Lark. It was Tyn's decision to go in," I tell him harshly.
"Well don't go blaming this on the dead," Noah says. "It won't give you any relief."
"Why would I want relief?" I spit back at him, turning my head to find he's already using his cold eyes to stare back at me.
"Well why not?" He responds. I stop and go silent. "Exactly. At least this way, I have someone to blame. It's natural instints to want to blame someone of death." I roll my eyes and push my back against the pillar.
2001
I stared in disbelief at the smouldering mansion. Clutching onto one of my hands was a four year-old Kelsey, her dark brown hair short and curly. She was just as confused as I was. Only Tyn truely understood what was going on. But he wouldn't explain. He held my other hand as we watched the scene unravel in front of us; at least two fire engines were squirting water into our home, a crowd of people were outside watching - police forcing them back. There was a news reporter, standing only a few metres from us, almost yelling to be heard over the sound of engines and baby screams.
What my little sister's name was - I have no idea. Tyn knews, but bringing her up around him was almost a death wish. But my sister, she screamed in Tyn's arms. She was just under four months old, and her screams demanded attention that Tyn couldn't and didn't know how to give her.
"How do you feel?" The news reporter repeated, loudly. Her microphone was stuffed in Tyn's face, but he remained silent. Instead, he passed me our little sister, and took the microphone. The blond lady, smiled kindly at him as she leaned down, checking her blue pencil skirt. Before she could register what he was doing, he ripped the wire from the end of the microphone and threw it into a burning bush outside the left wing of the mansion. It was live.
Tyn took our little sister off of me, and as soon as the woman had gone off trying to cover up the microphone loss, he took my hand and lead me off down the road with kelsey in tow.
"Where are we going?" Kelsey asked.
"To find a new home," Tyn replied simply, not looking back.
"Aren't we going to stay with... um..." Kelsey trailed off.
"Don't strain yourself," he said. "There's no one to stay with, so we're going to go find someone ourselves."
We travelled for about a week, only just staying alive until we found Noah in Central Arrianetica.
"Just trust him," Tyn persisted.
"I don't wanna," Kelsey said again. They'd been having the same argument for a while now. Whether or not we should trust the seven year old that we met on the side of a road. Tyn voted for yes. Kelsey, no. My little sister - well she didn't get a vote. She was already gone.
Thing is, I didn't speak back then. I was five and had never spoken a single word in my entire life. I was a mute. I only started speaking when I was nine.
"Well we're going to," Tyn said sternly. "It's either that or you die." He was harsh, but I guess that was the only thing that kicked Kelsey into gear. She was silent, but she nodded and agreed to trust Noah.
2012
"Then I blame you," I decide, staring daggers at Noah and his frosty eyes.
"Why the hell would you blame me?" He asks.
"Because you brough us here," I say simply, avoiding the fact that if he hadn't, I would've died eleven years ago.
After a few minutes, I leave Lark. He asked to be alone, and I respect that. But now, as I'm walking back inside the building, I have no idea who I'm going to talk to now. I don't want to be alone - but it seems that everyone else does. I sigh, and place a hand on a metal pillar.
This is the main storage area of the warehouse - the place where everything would've been kept if it were used for it's proper use. The walls are at least thirty metres apart, grey with broken or boarded up windows. The floor looks the same as the walls. Above me is the first floor, and above that, the second.
I think about going to find Kelsey, but what comfort is there in a younger, emotionless sister? I slide my back down the pillar until I reach the floor. I notice someone do the same on the pillar around five metres to my left - but I don't look.
We sit like this for a few minutes before the other person speaks up.
"Don't expect me to comfort you, Eliott," the male voice said.
"I don't expect anything, Noah," I reply, still looking straight ahead at the crack in the far-away way. It branches out in random patterns, growing from the floor to the ceiling.
"Good," Noah says. Noah is the last one anyone would expect to be comforting. He's harsh and cold as ice. Noah was there, though. That's all I'm interested in.
"So what happened?" I ask, making sure I'm not looking at him.
"That night?" Noah asks. "Lark didn't lead like he was supposed to."
"Don't go blaming this all on Lark. It was Tyn's decision to go in," I tell him harshly.
"Well don't go blaming this on the dead," Noah says. "It won't give you any relief."
"Why would I want relief?" I spit back at him, turning my head to find he's already using his cold eyes to stare back at me.
"Well why not?" He responds. I stop and go silent. "Exactly. At least this way, I have someone to blame. It's natural instints to want to blame someone of death." I roll my eyes and push my back against the pillar.
2001
I stared in disbelief at the smouldering mansion. Clutching onto one of my hands was a four year-old Kelsey, her dark brown hair short and curly. She was just as confused as I was. Only Tyn truely understood what was going on. But he wouldn't explain. He held my other hand as we watched the scene unravel in front of us; at least two fire engines were squirting water into our home, a crowd of people were outside watching - police forcing them back. There was a news reporter, standing only a few metres from us, almost yelling to be heard over the sound of engines and baby screams.
What my little sister's name was - I have no idea. Tyn knews, but bringing her up around him was almost a death wish. But my sister, she screamed in Tyn's arms. She was just under four months old, and her screams demanded attention that Tyn couldn't and didn't know how to give her.
"How do you feel?" The news reporter repeated, loudly. Her microphone was stuffed in Tyn's face, but he remained silent. Instead, he passed me our little sister, and took the microphone. The blond lady, smiled kindly at him as she leaned down, checking her blue pencil skirt. Before she could register what he was doing, he ripped the wire from the end of the microphone and threw it into a burning bush outside the left wing of the mansion. It was live.
Tyn took our little sister off of me, and as soon as the woman had gone off trying to cover up the microphone loss, he took my hand and lead me off down the road with kelsey in tow.
"Where are we going?" Kelsey asked.
"To find a new home," Tyn replied simply, not looking back.
"Aren't we going to stay with... um..." Kelsey trailed off.
"Don't strain yourself," he said. "There's no one to stay with, so we're going to go find someone ourselves."
We travelled for about a week, only just staying alive until we found Noah in Central Arrianetica.
"Just trust him," Tyn persisted.
"I don't wanna," Kelsey said again. They'd been having the same argument for a while now. Whether or not we should trust the seven year old that we met on the side of a road. Tyn voted for yes. Kelsey, no. My little sister - well she didn't get a vote. She was already gone.
Thing is, I didn't speak back then. I was five and had never spoken a single word in my entire life. I was a mute. I only started speaking when I was nine.
"Well we're going to," Tyn said sternly. "It's either that or you die." He was harsh, but I guess that was the only thing that kicked Kelsey into gear. She was silent, but she nodded and agreed to trust Noah.
2012
"Then I blame you," I decide, staring daggers at Noah and his frosty eyes.
"Why the hell would you blame me?" He asks.
"Because you brough us here," I say simply, avoiding the fact that if he hadn't, I would've died eleven years ago.
♥ ♥
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Living In
The
BACKSTREETS
Chapter 3
BACKSTREETS
Chapter 3
2012
I leave Nikki to her sadness and move on to the loading dock. The back of the warehouse has a place where lorries used to drive up to be filled and sent off. Not anymore. It's got a large scale and only one side of it has a wall. The roof is basically just a large slab of concrete over my head.
Only a few people are out here - and none of them are messing about on the scales like normal. Lark's out here. He's pacing the floor like always. His blue eyes can't seem to focus on anything. He stops when he sees me, though.
Lark was there, on the night. He was leading the mission - not Tyn. So, he sees Tyn's death as his failure. But I don't think anyone actually knows what went down in there.
Lark can't even meet my eyes. He's staring at the floor, probably washing himself over in guilt again. I step towards him until I'm less than a metre away.
"Lark," I say quietly. He glances up at me. "Lark," I repeat. He sighs and runs a hand through his cropped hair. I think this is when that bubble of guilt bursts.
"I'm so so so sorry," he says in a rush. "I didn't ever mean for that to happen. Tyn knew something bad was going to happen. He told me to call it off. And I didn't. I'm an idiot. And then I let him scout ahead - I was head of the mission it should've been me. I ju-" I move foreward quickly and wrap my arms around his neck. Hugging him feels nothing like hugging Tyn. Tyn's built bigger than Lark - not so thin and lanky. Lark shuts up and wraps his arms around my waist. I stare over his shoulder at the boarded up window. Inside that room is a supply of rope, tasers - guns.
"I don't care," I tell him quietly. "Tyn did what he did. You can't blame yourself." We're silent for a while - what are you supposed to say to that?
When I pull away, I search his face. He's been silently crying during the embrace. I gently squeeze his hand.
"Are you going to be put in Tyn's place?" I ask quietly. Lark shrugs, sighing.
"Who would want me? I'm a stupid street kid who killed Tyn," he replies.
"You didn't kill Tyn - and you're a great leader! You made one mistake," I say. He nods, trying to believe my words. Eventually he just pulls me in for another hug. Somewhere behind me, someone coughs and walks to the door. And out of the corner of my eye, I can make out Pariah.
2010
"She's a blo/dy wreck," I told Tyn, shaking my head.
"She's a new orphan," he corrects. "She's going to be like this sometimes." We were standing outside a storage containment unit that BackStreets own. BS owned random places in Central Arrianetica. Inside it a was fifteen year old girl called Pariah. She had blond hair and blue eyes - a spoilt kid too. She lived in a mansion - just like we used to. Actaully, her mansion was only a few miles from ours.
Pariah's parents were both dead - one from cancer, another from a plane crash - and she only had two options; join the BackStreets or live with her grandparents who didn't actaully like her.
"Was I like that?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. Oh please, god no, I pleaded with myself.
"You were too young to actaully understand what was going on," Tyn said. "You thought we were on a treasure hunt for the first month and a half." I laughed slightly and Tyn grinned. "Just give her time - she'll adjust."
But she didn't - not really. She yearned for hair straigheners, curlers and TVs. She begged for money and food. She never started to fit in until she had the accident.
Two months later, Nikki was teaching Pariah to beg properly. They were on the highest level on the warehouse, leaning against the bars. Below them were two levels. Tyn and Lark were throwing a football on the same level as them. There was a wide shot of the football - I don't know from who - and it went over to Pariah. She easily dodged it, but the way she did - she fell.
The level below never truely lost the mark of blood made that day.
Another reason why Lark believe he shouldn't be leading the BackStreets.
I leave Nikki to her sadness and move on to the loading dock. The back of the warehouse has a place where lorries used to drive up to be filled and sent off. Not anymore. It's got a large scale and only one side of it has a wall. The roof is basically just a large slab of concrete over my head.
Only a few people are out here - and none of them are messing about on the scales like normal. Lark's out here. He's pacing the floor like always. His blue eyes can't seem to focus on anything. He stops when he sees me, though.
Lark was there, on the night. He was leading the mission - not Tyn. So, he sees Tyn's death as his failure. But I don't think anyone actually knows what went down in there.
Lark can't even meet my eyes. He's staring at the floor, probably washing himself over in guilt again. I step towards him until I'm less than a metre away.
"Lark," I say quietly. He glances up at me. "Lark," I repeat. He sighs and runs a hand through his cropped hair. I think this is when that bubble of guilt bursts.
"I'm so so so sorry," he says in a rush. "I didn't ever mean for that to happen. Tyn knew something bad was going to happen. He told me to call it off. And I didn't. I'm an idiot. And then I let him scout ahead - I was head of the mission it should've been me. I ju-" I move foreward quickly and wrap my arms around his neck. Hugging him feels nothing like hugging Tyn. Tyn's built bigger than Lark - not so thin and lanky. Lark shuts up and wraps his arms around my waist. I stare over his shoulder at the boarded up window. Inside that room is a supply of rope, tasers - guns.
"I don't care," I tell him quietly. "Tyn did what he did. You can't blame yourself." We're silent for a while - what are you supposed to say to that?
When I pull away, I search his face. He's been silently crying during the embrace. I gently squeeze his hand.
"Are you going to be put in Tyn's place?" I ask quietly. Lark shrugs, sighing.
"Who would want me? I'm a stupid street kid who killed Tyn," he replies.
"You didn't kill Tyn - and you're a great leader! You made one mistake," I say. He nods, trying to believe my words. Eventually he just pulls me in for another hug. Somewhere behind me, someone coughs and walks to the door. And out of the corner of my eye, I can make out Pariah.
2010
"She's a blo/dy wreck," I told Tyn, shaking my head.
"She's a new orphan," he corrects. "She's going to be like this sometimes." We were standing outside a storage containment unit that BackStreets own. BS owned random places in Central Arrianetica. Inside it a was fifteen year old girl called Pariah. She had blond hair and blue eyes - a spoilt kid too. She lived in a mansion - just like we used to. Actaully, her mansion was only a few miles from ours.
Pariah's parents were both dead - one from cancer, another from a plane crash - and she only had two options; join the BackStreets or live with her grandparents who didn't actaully like her.
"Was I like that?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. Oh please, god no, I pleaded with myself.
"You were too young to actaully understand what was going on," Tyn said. "You thought we were on a treasure hunt for the first month and a half." I laughed slightly and Tyn grinned. "Just give her time - she'll adjust."
But she didn't - not really. She yearned for hair straigheners, curlers and TVs. She begged for money and food. She never started to fit in until she had the accident.
Two months later, Nikki was teaching Pariah to beg properly. They were on the highest level on the warehouse, leaning against the bars. Below them were two levels. Tyn and Lark were throwing a football on the same level as them. There was a wide shot of the football - I don't know from who - and it went over to Pariah. She easily dodged it, but the way she did - she fell.
The level below never truely lost the mark of blood made that day.
Another reason why Lark believe he shouldn't be leading the BackStreets.
♥ ♥
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Living In
The
BACKSTREETS
Chapter 2
BACKSTREETS
Chapter 2
2012
I find Nikki easily. Ever since I can remember, she's always gone to the same storage cupboard on the ground floor of the warehouse to cry - she won't do it in front of other people.
The cupboard is quite roomy; quiet and warm - there's a boiler in the corner. This room is usually empty; spare the few people who come in here to hook up or cry.
I stand, leaning on the doorframe as I watch her cry. She's in the corner - the one with the broken boiler - leaning against the cold metal of the drum. Her body is convulsiving in sobs as she mourns over Tyn.
Nikki's black curly hair is tied up in a knot, but a few pieces have gotten loose and are gently drifting by the sides of her face. When she looks up at me - probably intrigued by the light breaking it's way in here - he hazel eyes are bloodshot.
Nikki doesn't do much to react to me; just places her head back on her knees, her arms sheilding her face from the light. Slowly, I shut the door and take a few steps into the centre of the room.
"Go away," Nikki mumbles - barely audible through her arms.
"No," I say, sitting down next to her. I tuck a stand of my blond hair behind my ear and carefully stroke the top of her head in a sisterly way. She's older than me too; just like Tyn. Not as adventurous or risk-taking, but just like Tyn. Except - she has more common sense than him. He once walked into a police station - with his wanted poster on the wall - to get something back from the lost and found without thinking.
Impulsively, I decide to bring Tyn up in topic - that story, too.
"You remember when Tyn lost his stolen PDA?" I ask, smiling slightly at the memory. I lean against the wall, waiting for her to reply. It's hesitant - but she sits up at looks at me, nodding.
"And he went into the police station?" She confirms. I nod.
"Yeah. And he was wanted at the time? He went in, said he lost his PDA; described it and then as soon as he was given it-"
"He ran straight out of there," Nikki finishes. She sweeps the back of her hands across her eyes. I smile and nod.
"They chased him," I say.
"But he disappeared before they could get him," she adds. Tyn was like the leader of our little group. He always knew what he was doing.
"He only wanted the PDA because of the amount of BackStreets secrets there were on there," I say quietly. She nods again.
We're silent for a little while; she's probably thinking about how much she misses Tyn.
"Who's going to be the new leader of BS?" Nikki asks finally. OK - so, Tyn wasn't just the leader of the five of us; he was the leader of the whole operation. I shrug.
"Lark? Leon? Luke?" I suggest.
"Only people beginning with 'L'?" She grins. I smile at her - she's cheering up.
"Naturally. But, I don't know. They're the same age as him," I say. She goes quiet again.
"Remember when Lark turned up here?"
2008
I was only twelve at the time, hiding behind my fifteen year old brother down a high street alley way as the police ran past - thinking we did too. I breathed heavily as Tyn's body sheilded mine.
Slowly, Tyn moved. He stopped sheilding my body and crept to the mouth of the alley. He looked either way - checking for police. He gestured for me to follow and I do so, out into the open of the high street. I followed closely behind Tyn as we walked down the road. But suddenly, he stopped.
Ahead of us, was a street performer. The guy was juggling, and as he walked around the audience he took items off of them, and put them into the mix. The audience didn't seem to mind; they thought they would get the items back afterwards. Wrong. The guy stopped, caught all of the items; juggling balls, necklaces and bracelets; and ran. He ran straight past us and down the alley we were previously hiding in.
The corner's of Tyn's lips twitched upwards into a smirk. He tapped me on the shoulder and ran after the guy. I followed in a sprint. We ran down the alley, Tyn stopped at the other end but picked up the pace again when he spotted the guy in the distance. I think the guy spotted him too, because he was sprinting away.
When we finally caught up with him, he was hiding around the back of a store. He stared at us, his eyes wide, stuffing the stolen items into his backpack. He was thin with bright blue eyes - like Tyn, but brighter - and short blond hair.
"Dude," Tyn said breathlessly. "We're not gonna' hurt you."
"You're not?" The guy asked, stepping back.
"Nah," Tyn said. "What you did - that was awesome!" He smiled at the guy, who grinned back. "I'm Tyn, this is my sister - Eliott," Tyn said. "You live around here?"
"I don't really live anywhere," the guy replied.
"Street kid?" Tyn guessed. He nodded.
"Join the club... You need a place to stay?" Tyn suggested, running a hand through his dark hair. The guy nodded and a few minutes later, we were heading down towards the warehouse.
"Oh," the guy said. "I'm Lark, by the way."
I find Nikki easily. Ever since I can remember, she's always gone to the same storage cupboard on the ground floor of the warehouse to cry - she won't do it in front of other people.
The cupboard is quite roomy; quiet and warm - there's a boiler in the corner. This room is usually empty; spare the few people who come in here to hook up or cry.
I stand, leaning on the doorframe as I watch her cry. She's in the corner - the one with the broken boiler - leaning against the cold metal of the drum. Her body is convulsiving in sobs as she mourns over Tyn.
Nikki's black curly hair is tied up in a knot, but a few pieces have gotten loose and are gently drifting by the sides of her face. When she looks up at me - probably intrigued by the light breaking it's way in here - he hazel eyes are bloodshot.
Nikki doesn't do much to react to me; just places her head back on her knees, her arms sheilding her face from the light. Slowly, I shut the door and take a few steps into the centre of the room.
"Go away," Nikki mumbles - barely audible through her arms.
"No," I say, sitting down next to her. I tuck a stand of my blond hair behind my ear and carefully stroke the top of her head in a sisterly way. She's older than me too; just like Tyn. Not as adventurous or risk-taking, but just like Tyn. Except - she has more common sense than him. He once walked into a police station - with his wanted poster on the wall - to get something back from the lost and found without thinking.
Impulsively, I decide to bring Tyn up in topic - that story, too.
"You remember when Tyn lost his stolen PDA?" I ask, smiling slightly at the memory. I lean against the wall, waiting for her to reply. It's hesitant - but she sits up at looks at me, nodding.
"And he went into the police station?" She confirms. I nod.
"Yeah. And he was wanted at the time? He went in, said he lost his PDA; described it and then as soon as he was given it-"
"He ran straight out of there," Nikki finishes. She sweeps the back of her hands across her eyes. I smile and nod.
"They chased him," I say.
"But he disappeared before they could get him," she adds. Tyn was like the leader of our little group. He always knew what he was doing.
"He only wanted the PDA because of the amount of BackStreets secrets there were on there," I say quietly. She nods again.
We're silent for a little while; she's probably thinking about how much she misses Tyn.
"Who's going to be the new leader of BS?" Nikki asks finally. OK - so, Tyn wasn't just the leader of the five of us; he was the leader of the whole operation. I shrug.
"Lark? Leon? Luke?" I suggest.
"Only people beginning with 'L'?" She grins. I smile at her - she's cheering up.
"Naturally. But, I don't know. They're the same age as him," I say. She goes quiet again.
"Remember when Lark turned up here?"
2008
I was only twelve at the time, hiding behind my fifteen year old brother down a high street alley way as the police ran past - thinking we did too. I breathed heavily as Tyn's body sheilded mine.
Slowly, Tyn moved. He stopped sheilding my body and crept to the mouth of the alley. He looked either way - checking for police. He gestured for me to follow and I do so, out into the open of the high street. I followed closely behind Tyn as we walked down the road. But suddenly, he stopped.
Ahead of us, was a street performer. The guy was juggling, and as he walked around the audience he took items off of them, and put them into the mix. The audience didn't seem to mind; they thought they would get the items back afterwards. Wrong. The guy stopped, caught all of the items; juggling balls, necklaces and bracelets; and ran. He ran straight past us and down the alley we were previously hiding in.
The corner's of Tyn's lips twitched upwards into a smirk. He tapped me on the shoulder and ran after the guy. I followed in a sprint. We ran down the alley, Tyn stopped at the other end but picked up the pace again when he spotted the guy in the distance. I think the guy spotted him too, because he was sprinting away.
When we finally caught up with him, he was hiding around the back of a store. He stared at us, his eyes wide, stuffing the stolen items into his backpack. He was thin with bright blue eyes - like Tyn, but brighter - and short blond hair.
"Dude," Tyn said breathlessly. "We're not gonna' hurt you."
"You're not?" The guy asked, stepping back.
"Nah," Tyn said. "What you did - that was awesome!" He smiled at the guy, who grinned back. "I'm Tyn, this is my sister - Eliott," Tyn said. "You live around here?"
"I don't really live anywhere," the guy replied.
"Street kid?" Tyn guessed. He nodded.
"Join the club... You need a place to stay?" Tyn suggested, running a hand through his dark hair. The guy nodded and a few minutes later, we were heading down towards the warehouse.
"Oh," the guy said. "I'm Lark, by the way."
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Living In
The
BACKSTREETS
Chapter 1
BACKSTREETS
Chapter 1
2012
I sit down on my bunk. I'm surrounded by around twenty beds identical to mine - the only difference is the stuff underneath them. I don't techinically live on the streets - I live in a warehouse along the docks on the Upper West Side of my city-by-the-sea.
I've just returned from Tyn's funeral. We didn't have a body to bury - that's 'city property'. He died in a raid of a storage warehouse around two miles from here. We couldn't admit that he was our brother, couldn't even steal the body back. If we admitted to being related to him, they'd want to meet the parents who aren't alive, take us to jail - or even a foster home. They body was heavily guarded until he was identified as Tyn Craftwood - orphan. Tyn was my idol; the one person I looked up to.
Kelsey sits down next to me. She's now brotherless too. She's a year younger than me; only fifteen, while I'm half way through sixteen. She's short too; only makes it up to my shoulders. Her short hair is tied up in a lose knot near the top of her head, tying up the brown, red and blond hairs. Her hazel eyes study me carefully as she takes my hand in hers.
"Just the two of us left, huh?" She asks, putting on a small fake smile.
"Yeah," I say quietly. "Just the two of us."
"Six," she says slowly.
"Four," I conitnue.
"Three," she adds.
"Down to two." You would think it goes six, five, four, three, two, one. But, no. Mum and Dad - otherwise known as Faith and Callum - died in a house fire; technically a mansion fire; when I was around five years old. Tyn was eight at the time, Kelsey four. We didn't have any known relatives to move in with, and Tyn refused to let use go into foster care or even an orphange. So running away was the only option.
Then there was our little sister - she died because she was only four months old; wasn't able to move from breast milk quick enough. Dead. Tyn always blamed himself after he found out from a girl here that we could've done things to help her stay alive. But we told him it wasn't his fault - and we forced him to believe it.
Then we were down to three. Tyn's death by being shot by police. He was the only one to die in that raid; the raid he wouldn't let Kels or I on. He said he knew something bad was going to happen - he didn't want us to be a part of it.
2011
"God!" Willow laughed, pushing me into the alley. Tyn followed behind me, laughing along. "Did you see those idiots! Messing up every single time!" Willow was in front of me, walking along the alley, heading back towards the warehouse. Tyn's hand was on my waist, helping me foreward.
"I know," he said. "That's why I taught you guys how to do it right." He smiled down at me when I looked up. He was eighteen at the time. He carried the backpack on one shoulder. Inside was a pearl necklace and a lot of equiptment. Tyn got the necklace using some amazing skill of his.
He was pretending to do one of those magic shows along the side of the road, and this woman in a pink waistcoat and skirt stopped to watch. She seemed quite high and mighty, and extremely shocked when Tyn pretended to sneeze on her, produced a tissue from his pocket and moped the fake snot up, taking the necklace with it.
"They were caught every time!" Willow continued, leading us down to the docks.
It's true. There was about three street kids, trying to pickpocket a group of women. They didn't realise - unlike us - that one was a member of the police. Stupid children.
We skirted around a group of people, getting ready to sell the day's catch to the market. Maybe tomorrow, we may be eating today's catch. As long as that necklace sells well, anyway, I thought.
2012
As Kelsey walks away; probably back to the group; I lean down and pull out the box from underneath the bed. I lift out the pearl necklace, running it between my fingers. We didn't eat fish the next day. We didn't eat at all the next day.
I sit down on my bunk. I'm surrounded by around twenty beds identical to mine - the only difference is the stuff underneath them. I don't techinically live on the streets - I live in a warehouse along the docks on the Upper West Side of my city-by-the-sea.
I've just returned from Tyn's funeral. We didn't have a body to bury - that's 'city property'. He died in a raid of a storage warehouse around two miles from here. We couldn't admit that he was our brother, couldn't even steal the body back. If we admitted to being related to him, they'd want to meet the parents who aren't alive, take us to jail - or even a foster home. They body was heavily guarded until he was identified as Tyn Craftwood - orphan. Tyn was my idol; the one person I looked up to.
Kelsey sits down next to me. She's now brotherless too. She's a year younger than me; only fifteen, while I'm half way through sixteen. She's short too; only makes it up to my shoulders. Her short hair is tied up in a lose knot near the top of her head, tying up the brown, red and blond hairs. Her hazel eyes study me carefully as she takes my hand in hers.
"Just the two of us left, huh?" She asks, putting on a small fake smile.
"Yeah," I say quietly. "Just the two of us."
"Six," she says slowly.
"Four," I conitnue.
"Three," she adds.
"Down to two." You would think it goes six, five, four, three, two, one. But, no. Mum and Dad - otherwise known as Faith and Callum - died in a house fire; technically a mansion fire; when I was around five years old. Tyn was eight at the time, Kelsey four. We didn't have any known relatives to move in with, and Tyn refused to let use go into foster care or even an orphange. So running away was the only option.
Then there was our little sister - she died because she was only four months old; wasn't able to move from breast milk quick enough. Dead. Tyn always blamed himself after he found out from a girl here that we could've done things to help her stay alive. But we told him it wasn't his fault - and we forced him to believe it.
Then we were down to three. Tyn's death by being shot by police. He was the only one to die in that raid; the raid he wouldn't let Kels or I on. He said he knew something bad was going to happen - he didn't want us to be a part of it.
2011
"God!" Willow laughed, pushing me into the alley. Tyn followed behind me, laughing along. "Did you see those idiots! Messing up every single time!" Willow was in front of me, walking along the alley, heading back towards the warehouse. Tyn's hand was on my waist, helping me foreward.
"I know," he said. "That's why I taught you guys how to do it right." He smiled down at me when I looked up. He was eighteen at the time. He carried the backpack on one shoulder. Inside was a pearl necklace and a lot of equiptment. Tyn got the necklace using some amazing skill of his.
He was pretending to do one of those magic shows along the side of the road, and this woman in a pink waistcoat and skirt stopped to watch. She seemed quite high and mighty, and extremely shocked when Tyn pretended to sneeze on her, produced a tissue from his pocket and moped the fake snot up, taking the necklace with it.
"They were caught every time!" Willow continued, leading us down to the docks.
It's true. There was about three street kids, trying to pickpocket a group of women. They didn't realise - unlike us - that one was a member of the police. Stupid children.
We skirted around a group of people, getting ready to sell the day's catch to the market. Maybe tomorrow, we may be eating today's catch. As long as that necklace sells well, anyway, I thought.
2012
As Kelsey walks away; probably back to the group; I lean down and pull out the box from underneath the bed. I lift out the pearl necklace, running it between my fingers. We didn't eat fish the next day. We didn't eat at all the next day.
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Thanks
for reading broseph. That's the first chapter done :) WOO.
The only reminders I give, are for people who comment for them.
Comment for a reminder. :)
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Living In
The
BACKSTREETS
Prologue
BACKSTREETS
Prologue
I'll explain how this all works: it's a four-man job. Two
on the streets, two up on top of the buildings. One distraction,
one pickpocket. Two guards. That's what happens. Always at
night - of course. So that's where we stand; I, on top of a
closed down convience store with Tyn, and the two others down on
the ground - Kelsey and Willow. We're on the roof because, at
night - who is going to look away from the road ahead of them to
check the rooves? Kelsey and Willow are based in the alley way a
few doors down positioned as if they were talking.
Now, when the mark appears, Tyn or I will signal Kelsey and Willow. Willow - the distraction - will walk out onto the street and start rambling. They'll keep the mark occupied until Tyn or I have got down onto the pavement, taken whatever we can, and ran away. And by the time the mark checks their bag or pockets - we'll have dissapeared. The remaining two must stand by, ready to get them out incase of any trouble.
2010
"Mark," Tyn said quietly. "Flick it." I nodded, and flicked the torch on and off a few times in the direction of Kelsey and Willow.
"You go," I said, putting the torch back into the pack that I've been assigned to carry. He nodded and carefully moved along the roof and over to the fire escape ladder. The mark that day was a dark haired woman in a lime green coat. She had a large black bag over one shoulder, and walked with a very... confident aura. Probably never been robbed before then either.
Now to steal - that's not dishonest. Stealing is our way to stay alive. Killing is dishonest. I was not a dishonest girl - and I never planned to be.
The mark was walking past me, and Willow was starting to drunkingly walk out of the alley. She's not drunk - just good at this. Her brown hair was messily tied up in a pony tail, and even though I couldn't see them, I knew her light brown eyes are shining in the night. I couldn't make out what she's saying, but it was scaring the woman alright. Tyn was down on the road, creeping up behind her. He first checked to see if there was anything in her pockets. He didn't do a thing. Instead, he checked in the bag. He reached into the bag and pulled out a purse. Good enough for the first mark of the night.
He ran off into the night, and Willow moved on. The mark hurried away, not even attempting to look down the alley or up on the rooves. Tyn appeared on the roof next to me, followed shortly after by Willow and then Kelsey. He opened the purse and pulled out at least fifty pounds. Smirking, he stuffed the purse into my bag and waved off Willow and Kelsey, his dark brown hair flopping into his eyes as he did so. I watched him as he headed back along the roof, his bright eyes searching for the next mark.
2012
"Don't worry about it, Eliott," Nikki says, putting her arm around my shoulder. "A girl like you can make do without a brother. We both know it." I sigh and run the balls of my hand across my cheek.
"I can't believe Tyn is gone," I say quietly. Nikki pulls me around into a hug.
"I know," she says. "I miss him too."
Now, when the mark appears, Tyn or I will signal Kelsey and Willow. Willow - the distraction - will walk out onto the street and start rambling. They'll keep the mark occupied until Tyn or I have got down onto the pavement, taken whatever we can, and ran away. And by the time the mark checks their bag or pockets - we'll have dissapeared. The remaining two must stand by, ready to get them out incase of any trouble.
2010
"Mark," Tyn said quietly. "Flick it." I nodded, and flicked the torch on and off a few times in the direction of Kelsey and Willow.
"You go," I said, putting the torch back into the pack that I've been assigned to carry. He nodded and carefully moved along the roof and over to the fire escape ladder. The mark that day was a dark haired woman in a lime green coat. She had a large black bag over one shoulder, and walked with a very... confident aura. Probably never been robbed before then either.
Now to steal - that's not dishonest. Stealing is our way to stay alive. Killing is dishonest. I was not a dishonest girl - and I never planned to be.
The mark was walking past me, and Willow was starting to drunkingly walk out of the alley. She's not drunk - just good at this. Her brown hair was messily tied up in a pony tail, and even though I couldn't see them, I knew her light brown eyes are shining in the night. I couldn't make out what she's saying, but it was scaring the woman alright. Tyn was down on the road, creeping up behind her. He first checked to see if there was anything in her pockets. He didn't do a thing. Instead, he checked in the bag. He reached into the bag and pulled out a purse. Good enough for the first mark of the night.
He ran off into the night, and Willow moved on. The mark hurried away, not even attempting to look down the alley or up on the rooves. Tyn appeared on the roof next to me, followed shortly after by Willow and then Kelsey. He opened the purse and pulled out at least fifty pounds. Smirking, he stuffed the purse into my bag and waved off Willow and Kelsey, his dark brown hair flopping into his eyes as he did so. I watched him as he headed back along the roof, his bright eyes searching for the next mark.
2012
"Don't worry about it, Eliott," Nikki says, putting her arm around my shoulder. "A girl like you can make do without a brother. We both know it." I sigh and run the balls of my hand across my cheek.
"I can't believe Tyn is gone," I say quietly. Nikki pulls me around into a hug.
"I know," she says. "I miss him too."
♥ ♥
Thanks
for reading broseph. That's was my lovely prologue. Comment
for a reminder. :)
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Living In
The
BACKSTEETS
Casting
BACKSTEETS
Casting
Well, hello. :) Here's the casting so far.
Main Character: (Unknown. Probably will make up a charcter.)
Main's Best Friend: Willow - willowxoxo
Main's Brother: (Unknown. Need a guy to sign up.)
Main's Sister: Kelsey - pandabear13
Brother's Best Friend: Nikki - xolimegreenxo101
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Thanks bro.
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