SECOND STRING
I LISTENED in utter boredom as the thumping footsteps made their way down the bleak hallway. "Miss Patricks, you're free to go." said the middle-aged officer as she slid the key into the lock, releasing me from the steel cage known as cell #403.
I made my way down the hallway to the door I was inhumanely drug through kicking and screaming just a few nights ago. I nodded to the officer on watch at the door, as I made my way to the chief of police, my blonde curls bouncing freely. After signing a few papers I made my way through the door and into the sunbathed streets of California. As my chauffeur Paul oppened the limosine door I slid in digging through the bag of items just handed back by the police for my cellphone. The notification of almost 350 text messages appeared on the screen. They were from the people I called my "friends". Voltures. They just wanted the story so they could fake concern and carve scars into my back later on.
So how did I, little miss popular, rich, blonde end up in jail? Well this, is my story...
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SECOND STRING
Teen FictionWhen in the shadows of another, a flower grows twisting itself for just a small ray of sunlight. But at one point, that flower becomes so twisted, it's almost impossible to get back on track and straighten up again. So how exactly did golden girl Li...
