Impurity (On Hold)

Chapter 2

A/N I don't own any rights to the song Rise Today.

Viola Blom's POV

'...won't you rise today and change this world? Only love can set it right.' Only the subtle command of the lyrics of the song Rise Today can make me leave my peaceful dreams. My eyelids barely open, with hazy vision I study my clock, 6:31. I wake with determination in my eyes, a smile on my face, and a level head. Today I will change someone's life. Today will be an amazing day, everything will change for the better.

I slide out of bed and the alarm clock automatically shuts off. I'm ready for all of the great things that this new day will bring. Sunlight beams in through my transparent sun roof. I skip to my window. Eagles are flying high and looking through the steady stream of the river. Our American flag is blowing slightly to the west.

I look in the mirror and squeal. I am amazed. A beautiful young woman is staring back at me. This beauty has wavy chestnut hair cascading down to her shoulders. Her hands style it into an updo in minutes. Her turquoise eyes scan her tight healthy body. A smile is etched on her face. This beauty wears but cotton underwear.

Was I always this good looking? My past self looks at me through the glass. A younger woman with straight almond hair, piercing blue eyes with specks of green, a smile almost always on her lips, and a slightly thicker body. It was often a good time to practice so she wore her track outfit everyday.

I float to my HUGE walk-in closet. A full length mirror is opposite the doorway. An award wall is on the right side of the mirror. Rows of clothes are hung on the left side of the mirror. I walk past the first row which has a variety of dresses. Long and short sleeve shirts line the second row. I grab a bright blue shirt with ruffles. In the next row I grab a pair of skinny shorts that will constrict my tight legs. I throw the clothes onto my bed.

I look at my award wall next to the mirror. Many medals and trophies can be seen through the glass. Every award brings back many memories, my earlier memories are at the bottom. The rows are split into two sections. The left section is for sport accolades. The top row sits empty, I know I will fill it this year. Silver swimming and dance trophies line the top rows. Gold and silver volleyball and track trophies from my middle school days are below.

The right section is for everything other than sports. Gold trophies for dances such as Homecoming and Courtwarming. Best artist, cook, designer, fashion designer, investigator, and leader medals line the top and middle rows. I have been awarded a gold student of the year trophy every year since 6th grade.

Notes from students I tutor line my sliding glass doors. Before school everyday I tutor my peers that are having problems learning the subjects. I squint and read one of the notes, 'I thought about dropping out of school. You started tutoring me and now I pass every class.' I part the doors.

The hallway is a blur as I sprint into the kitchen. Dad sets two plates on the table. We always eat two over easy eggs, two sausage patties, and two biscuits smothered in strawberry jelly. We devour breakfast in less than ten minutes. I check the clock above the stove, 7:00.

I do 20 sit ups, push ups, and leg lifts. I run one mile on my treadmill and my muscles ache. I take a shower. Dad does a wolf whistle when I come into the living room. My cheeks go red. He says, "Look at you getting all dressed up. No matter what happens you'll always be my princess." I check the grandfather clock above our television, 7:30.

Dad says, "You aren't as excited to get the cure as me." I laugh, "I'm way more excited than you." "No way." "Yes way. I'm the most excited person ever." Dad raises his eyebrows and says, "I can't beat that. We need to get moving if we want to get a decent spot." I slip into a pair of sparkling blue high heels. The front door automatically locks once we close it.

People smile at us as we walk downtown. Boys my age have their eyes locked to my chest and long legs. Girls send glares of hate and jealousy my way. Runners give me second glances.

Many people let us get in front of them. My Dad is treated differently because he is the son of the best mayor our city has ever had. After what seems to be an hour Dad goes into the Outreach Center. I patiently wait outside. A familiar voice calls my name. I gulp. I shake in my heels. Waterfalls spill onto my cheeks.

A/N Smash that vote button if you want more. Provide feedback in the comments. Follow me if you want me to write more Dystopia. I have much more Dystopia planned, yet every story is dependent upon you.

Expect at least one new chapter every week. If you like this story check out Refuge (Dystopia).

~RogueReader