It was the morning of January 24th, 2024, and Brock was sitting in his room listening to one of his favorite bands, Pierce the Veil. They'd released the song Resilience the previous year and he was down to listening to it. The song played in the background as he'd been using his air pods not really paying attention to things around him. Brock never really interacted with anyone. It didn't matter as the only time he ever had to do that was when he had to do what Alaric and the dicks kids wanted. Brock had been so focused on the music that he hadn't heard one of his stepsiblings enter the barn.

To prove a point, a loud blast of sound broke through what was supposed to be soundproof air pods. Brock jumped and took them out only to find that his youngest stepbrother, eighteen-year-old Aston was blasting his electric guitar.

"What the hell is your problem?!" Brock exclaimed. "Can't I have one fucking day where I don't need to be bothered?!"

Aston laughed.

"My dad told me to look for you and figure out why you aren't in the house getting things ready for the day," Aston smirked. "Wait till I tell him that you're in your dump listening to your trashy music,"

"Why you son of a bitch!" Brock yelled and jumped from his bed.

He was dressed in mostly sweatpants and a black long-sleeved skull shirt. Aston backed up and took off running. Annoyed, Brock chased after him ready to beat the shit out of his stepbrother. However, Aston was faster as he took off out of the barn and raced toward the house. Brock didn't think much about it when he tackled Aston right in front of the backdoor as well as his stepfather.

"What is going on out here?!" Alaric exclaimed.

Immediately, the two got up.

"Dad! Brock tried to hurt me!" Aston cried.

Brock glared daggers at his stepbrother. Ready to tackle him again.

"He came into my room first!" Brock defended.

"Enough!" Alaric stated. "Aston, please go inside and get ready for football try outs,"

Aston nodded and walked inside. But not before he turned and glared at Brock. Alaric waited until Aston was upstairs then turned back to him.

"Now then, Brock, since you were picking a fight with Aston, you better get into that kitchen and start cooking," Alaric ordered. "I will not have someone like you affect my kids days, oh and after your done cooking go and get your sister's clothes ready,"

Brock grumbled to himself as he walked into the house. Ignoring his stepfather, Brock walked into the kitchen and got everything he needed to make breakfast. He walked over to the coffee pot and got three Keurig cups. Not willing to say anything to his stepfather, Brock grabbed three cups from the cupboard and started the machine. Turning back to the oven and the fridge he grabbed a carton of eggs then reached into the cupboard to get the griddle. He'd been busy making breakfast and coffee when his stepsister came downstairs.

"Brock! Make sure that you make my eggs scrambled, you know how much I hate that yolk!" she ordered.

Brock glanced back at his stepsister; she had hair curlers in as well as acne cream. Like that would help her get rid of the large pimples she'd gotten since she'd turned nineteen.

"Why can't you make it yourself..." Brock spoke.

As if she heard him, she turned toward him.

"What was that?" Stella said.

"Nothing," Brock responded.

He turned back to the stove and started heating up the griddle before he added the eggs. Alaric and Aston came into the kitchen right then and there and took a seat at the table. The coffee was done and so were the eggs and pancakes. Brock remained quiet as he didn't want to make his stepfather anymore angrier. He finished the coffee off with the finishing touches. Taking up the plates of food and cups with no help he placed them on the table.

"This is ridiculous," Alaric said. "I've been working for Porthouse publishing for a while and we still haven't found that one client we need," Alaric took a sip from his coffee and gagged as he spit it back into the cup. "Brock! What is this?! Decaf?! I didn't ask for that!"

"Sir that's all we have left of your coffee," Brock frowned. "You drank everything else,"

"Well, I don't like it, we should have some coffee grounds," Alaric shoved the cup onto the floor causing the china to break into a million pieces. "Redo that, and make sure you clean that up,"

"Fine," Brock said through gritted teeth.

He bent down and picked up the shards of glass as the rest of the family ate their meal in peace. One of these days he was going to break free from them and do something about it.

*~*~*~*

In Greensboro, a young woman with dark brown hair and tan skin was putting the finishing touches on her book. She'd been working long and hard on it and wasn't about to let the story slip from her head. Her best friend Petra entered the room wanting to check up on her. Amelia stopped what she was doing and looked over at her friend. Petra was slim, with long light brown hair and brown eyes. She wore skinny jeans and a gray t-shirt.

"Hey girl," Petra said. "How's the story coming?"

"It's coming, although, I wish I could get out of this stupid writer's block," Amelia said flipping her dark brown hair over her shoulder. "But frankly, I can't seem to finish this love story and I don't know what else I could do about it,"

Petra sat down next to her. Deep in thought.

"Maybe you should take a break?" Petra suggested. "You've been working your ass off for the last month writing this book," she continued. "Come on! Let's go out and enjoy ourselves,"

Amelia hesitated. Although she did think that she really did need some time away from her computer. Maybe a break was the best option. Besides, she couldn't stop thinking about the dream she had.

"Alright fine," Amelia said. "But only for a little bit,"

"See?! That's the spirit!" Petra exclaimed. "Come on let's go!"

Petra grabbed Amelia by her arm and dragged her out of her apartment. The girls laughed and walked out onto the sidewalk.

*~*~*

After breakfast, Brock set to work with helping everyone in the household get ready. He first walked to Stella's room where she'd been busy getting the curlers out of her hair. Remaining quiet, Brock knocked on her door. Stella stopped what she was doing and glanced at the door to find him standing there.

"What are you waiting for? An invitation?" Stella demanded. "Get your ass in here,"

While Stella turned her attention back to her reflection, Brock mocked her mouthing what she had said. Thankfully, Stella hadn't noticed, and he had gone to her closet and grabbed a pair of skinny jeans and her favorite black sweetheart crop top.

"What exactly are you trying to do today?" Brock asked.

"Haven't you heard? My father is going to take me with him to see how things are ran at the publishing house," Stella got up from the chair.

The curlers had come down just below her shoulder, still dressed in her robe she glanced at the bed and the outfit. Stella grabbed the crop top and tossed it in Brock's face.

"What the hell do you think I'm doing?" Stella exclaimed. "I'm supposed to look professional, and I can't do that if you give me a damn crop top," she continued. "Get me something else, even though you really don't have much of a style,"

"Style?!" Brock jumped. "At least my style is better than yours you dimwit!"

Stella gasped.

"Dimwit?! I'll have you know that I don't get my clothes from some lame cheapskate app," Stella responded. "Your taste in clothing is worse than those damn whores that I've seen walking around, and now you're over here trying to make me one of them?"

"Wouldn't be the first," Brock spoke to himself.

He grabbed a heather blouse and black blazer, the minute he turned around, suddenly, Stella had slapped him across the face. Brock stumbled and dropped the blouse and blazer.

"Don't you dare call me a whore!" Stella exclaimed. "Now get out! Dad will need to see you!"

Thankful that he could get out of there, Brock left the room and made his way back downstairs where he saw Aston climbing into the car. Alaric turned to see him.

"Brock, I hope you got everything," he said. "You're coming with us, I'm going to drop your brother off and we'll be going into Greensboro, so we'll need you there,"

Brock simply nodded and once Stella finished getting ready and climbed into the passenger seat, Brock got in as well and buckled up. Putting on his air pods he played his music. Thoughts circling his mind as he was thinking about what kind of song he could write. Even though he had to hide his song book in his room. At some point, he was hoping that he could at least sit down and write. However, if his stepfamily ever found out about the song book, he knew that something terrible would happen.