Drowning: the story of a teenager

A/N: This story is a product of my mind and is entirely fictional. Any similarities to people and/or situations is entirely coincidental.
This is my first fanfic, and it took me awhile to piece everything together. R/R - that would definately make this that much worthwhile. Thanks

Chapter 1:

The city raced by them. Misha sighed a little as she rested her head against the window. The glass vibrated softly under her temple as the family van zipped along the road.

“Good-bye, shithole,” Misha whispered bitterly. Good riddance, she thought. There was nothing left behind them. There never was. She probably should have felt guilty for being so grateful to get away, but it was impossible to feel anything but hope. Here was freedom coming at her fifty miles an hour. All that unnecessary pain was slowly ebbing away, racing past just like the fruit sellers at the side of the road, the same miserable homeless man sprawled on the intersection. This was all going away.
No more gunshots outside because the stupid neighborhood kids couldn’t get their act together. No more waking up to hear mom crying. No more locking her door because “dad,” no, because Jim had a bit too much to drink with the guys. It was all going away. It was all gone.

Jim Kashen’s funeral had been a year ago, but Misha remembered every detail with relish.
“Heroic Policeman Gunned Down,” the headlines read. Officer Jim Kashen’s last act as an office of this fine city, was to protect its citizens, or so they said. He had come across one of the numerous drug rings in the area. Running in, guns blazing, he brought the perpetrators to the ground, but not before taking a bullet to the chest, and dying with honor. Truth be told, Kashen was there, but for different reasons. He was dropping in to get his weekly salary, raking in the profits with supreme confidence because who would ever suspect such an upstanding keeper-of-the-peace such as himself? It was a great way to make a lot of bucks, excellent way to gain some influence. Tragic, that as he was leaving the building, another cop, a good cop, a rookie on break, happened to stumble upon him. And then Officer Kashen had to uphold his name, that was the whole point. He turned around, gun out and ready, filling the building with bullets. It was a shame, having to waste some very good business dealers, but the rookie believed the act. He was so proud, the rookie was, so proud to be working on the force with someone as honorable and commanding and brave as Jim Kashen. He beamed in awe as Kashen nodded grimly, as he stepped inside. Good thing one of the men inside had the reflexes to pull out his weapon. Good thing one of the bullets he shot found their target. Jim Kashen fell to the ground, a grimace on his face. It was a shame that such a good situation had to go so wrong, so fast.
The rookie ran like hell, screaming for back-up. And so Officer Kashen died like a hero.

The boys in blue stood proudly at the funeral. Their stony-eyed faces looked straight ahead, sorry for the loss of such a good cop, grateful that they were still there. Natalia had stood alone by the casket, accepting the flag with pale hands. She was silent, still, almost as if she wasn’t even there. Everyone whispered about the poor widow. Such a good man had died, terrible how these things go. What was going to happen to Natalia now? How was she going to take care of that little girl – no, not a little girl, she was 17, practically a woman. It was a terrible thing when a hero died.

Misha grunted at that thought. Like Kashen could ever be anything other than scum. There was a slight pang of regret at that thought. OF course there had been good times. All too few, as the years had gone by, but they were good moments nonetheless. He was her father after all. Jim used to twirl her around in his arms, introducing her to everyone as his Angel Misha. Daddy’s Little girl got anything she wanted. As long as she behaved and listened to her father, Jim would rain sweet praises and kisses and presents on his little girl. He treated her well. He cherished her. He loved her then.
Living in such blissful ignorance, it was hard to see the small scared smiles her mother would give the two as they played in the yard. Gorwing up Misha had thought her mother was so clubsy. She was always covered in bruises, along her arms and legs and back. But whenever she had asked, Natalia had smiled meekly, rubbing at them self-consciously. She had fallen down the stairs was all, nothing to worry about. And with a pat on the head, Misha knew everything was all right.
“Just don’t fall down anymore, Momma,” she would say before running outside.

A tear slipped out from under Misha’s closed eyes. She shifted against her seatbelt as the car pulled into a cul-de-sac in front of a yellow house. The moving van was already empty, the movers just taking the last of the boxes inside.
“We’re home,” Natalia said, as she turned to face her daughter. Misha hastily wiped at the tear on her face and grinned back. She stumbled out of the car and stretched furrowing her brow. All that ugliness was behind her now. All of it was gone. The sky was blue, the sun’s out. Nothing is going to hurt us anymore.

It was all over.