this story was made by me called call of duty
https://www.wattpad.com/story/353261480?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=Littledemon154&wp_originator=OHeznlwQGWVRccpKJ9OVdwrkUcR6itDrJabtzPux9U%2FrpuFaHk5cQELNzoauOq1tLJE%2F5oTGXXsEnDaczLdMRYzm4wKJn4La5XU0zn4%2Bl2AT6aYKfh3pslF7JdltrkSG
Tw mentioned of alcohol and abuse
In the quiet moments before dawn, when the sun's first rays tiptoed through the tiniest fissures in the curtains, a gentle warmth began to suffuse the room where y/n lay. Wrapped in the tender embrace of sleep, she remained oblivious to the world's awakening. Slowly, ever so reluctantly, her eyelids fluttered in protest, resisting the intrusion of the sun's unwelcome brightness.
With a languid yawn that stretched her weary muscles, y/n's eyes blinked open, squinting against the sudden assault of light. Her vision, still veiled by the remnants of sleep, rendered her surroundings as hazy, ethereal forms. Gradually, the room's familiar contours emerged from the fog, and she begrudgingly realized that morning had come, and it was already 8 am.
"Oh no," y/n murmured, her voice bearing the weight of both frustration and urgency. Hastily, she cast aside the cozy cocoon of blankets and let her bare feet touch the cool, unforgiving wooden floor. The sensation, like a jolt of electricity, snapped her into full wakefulness.
"My dad is gonna kill me," she thought, a rising tide of panic coursing through her veins. The dread of facing the repercussions of yet another bout of oversleeping hung over her like a guillotine blade. It felt as though, despite her best efforts, she remained trapped in an unending cycle of sleepless nights and unyielding homework.
The teachers, she mused bitterly, were relentless. They wore an air of indifference, as though she were merely a lazy slacker, blind to the complexities of her life beyond the classroom. They swept her struggles beneath the rug as if they didn't exist at all.
To drown out the mounting anxiety, y/n sought refuge in the world of video games, her trusty iMac her gateway to adventure. From Call of Duty to Fortnite, she immersed herself in virtual battles. Yet, her computer wasn't exactly built for gaming; it stuttered and overheated like a race car ablaze. She owed the cherished iMac to her grandmother's benevolence on a past birthday, a magical escape from stress until her father had intervened, turning it into a technological tragedy.
y/n's dad was the epitome of a deadbeat father. He was constantly drowning in alcohol, his closest companion and perhaps even his lover. No matter what, he always chose the bottle over his own family. His pockets seemed to only produce a meager sum, begrudgingly handed over to y/n's mom, who was left to toil away in the kitchen and clean up after him. It was as if he held all the power, the sole ruler of their humble abode. Despite her mother's fiery declarations of leaving him, he would manipulate and deceive her, leaving her trapped in his toxic grasp.
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