WARNING: This does not contain violence, but is suggestive to it and not recommended for under 12s. I would also not recommend it if you have been attacked anyway (and are not over it) as this may be upsetting.
AN: Hiii this is my first story and first story on Wattpad. I have tried to make this as creative as possible, and have not copied anything I've seen. Please, after reading this can you vote or comment? Fanning doesn't matter much to me, I would just like to know people are reading and enjoying my work. Please criticise too, and not just give up on my story. Private message or comment them! Soo, VOTE, COMMENT and maybe FAN! :D
Janae xx
EDIT: I just realised that the part is called 'I Love Mondays', even though it's set on a Thursday. Buuut i'm too lazy to change it. sooo, sorry. :D
CAUTION: Handle With Care
Part 1: I Love Mondays.
Izzy
I rolled over and sighed. I couldn't sleep. I looked up at the stars my best friend Will had convinced me to paint on my black ceiling, Last night events were too dramatic to get out of my mind; they kept playing like a twisted film stuck on repeat. So, I gave up trying to sleep, and hauled my body out of my bed. I decided to get ready for school and I tip-toed to my bathroom. I shut the door, and looked at myself in the full-length mirror on the back of it. I looked a mess. My long black hair was knotted from when I kept running my fingers through it. My eyes were red and small from the constant rubbing. My eyes then travelled up and down my body till I saw my arm. I gasped. There was a massive purple bruise visible on my upper arm. I gently touched it and winced. Then the memories from last night came rushing back into my mind. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. I started to silently sob and walked into the shower to wash 'him' off me.
After the long shower I started getting changed for school. I decided to throw on a tatty t-shirt that I reserved for weekends and some old paint splattered jeans. I pushed my hair back to a low bun and forgot about putting on makeup. I didn't feel like bothering to look nice, there was no one to impress. Skipping breakfast, I quickly grabbed my bag, my keys, my iPod and a bottle of water, as I wanted to leave before my mum could ask questions. I started to walk towards Deep Fried Jim's. Will got a new job at the local diner during the summer, and we started a new tradition that I would meet him before school and we would go together. The February air was damp as I started to jog, and my eyes felt heavy from the lack of sleep. I put my iPod on shuffle and 'Stop Crying Your Heart Out' by Oasis started playing. I sadly smiled to myself at how ironic it was.
As I got through the door, I waved at Jimmy; the owner of Deep Fried Jim's himself. I would usually sit and eat breakfast, but I didn't have an appetite. Jimmy looked at me oddly as I sat down in a booth at the back. I did a quick once-over of the diner and looked at the familiar white floor tiles and the red leather seats. I soon spotted bright blond hair and realised it was Will. He was leaning over wiping tables. I sat back and closed my eyes. A few minutes later, I heard Will sit down across from me and glanced at him. He scanned my appearance and looked up at me with worry in his pretty blue eyes. He started with the part I was going to dread, the questions, "Erm, Izzy are yo-" I automatically cut him off; I didn't need his protective 'big brother' side right now. "Yes, I'm fine" I said sharply with no emotion. Maybe I looked worse than I felt. I looked down at my hands, avoiding Will's face and kept rubbing the bottle between them. After few minutes of trying to escape Will's quizzical gaze, passed and I looked up, and saw him looking at me with an odd look of confusion, "let's go" I told him. His caring look was making me paranoid. I waited for Will to put his apron away and grab his bag, and we were finally walking off to school. I didn't notice that we were walking in silence till we got to school; I was so deep in my own thoughts about the previous night. I didn't know what to do, and who would believe me.
