young in love

chapter 1 - the first day - 1

chapter 1 - the first day - 1

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Christian's POV

Another school year always meant another new school. I was expelled from three private schools over the years for fighting. My mother said if I get expelled from another school, I'll be shipped off to military school, non-negotiable. It seems that with my abysmal record, even my parents couldn't buy my way into another private school in Bellevue, so I would be attending Seattle College Prep for my junior year of high school.

My parents tried to do everything in their power to stop me from starting fights at school. All the school counselors said I had major anger issues, so I was forced to see a therapist, which unsurprisingly, hasn't helped me at all.

I think I visited at least five different therapists, and I never felt comfortable with any of them. All they wanted me to do was talk about my past, but I vowed to myself that I'd never let anyone know my darkest secrets. I don't need their pity for my shitty and abusive childhood.

Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever told anyone about the nightmare my life was like as a child with my drugged-out prostitute of a mother and her pimp who abused me and used me as his ashtray. And I fully intend for it to stay that way, too.

I honestly can't tell you why I got into all those petty fights. I was just so angry – angry with life, angry with myself. I felt undeserving of this amazing family I was given.

I was adopted at the age of four by Carrick Grey and Grace Trevelyan-Grey – a prominent couple in Seattle society. My mother, Dr. Grace Trevelyan-Grey, was the Head of Surgery at the world-renowned hospital, Seattle Grace. My father, Carrick Grey, was a partner at the best law firm on the west coast.

My older brother Elliot was attending college at Yale. He was no doubt the golden child in my parent's eyes. He always had perfect grades and was the star quarterback of his high school football team. He was the living, breathing cliché of every teen romance movie.

My little sister Mia was just the best, though. She had a special quality about her – everyone she met instantly fell in love with her. It must've had something to do with her outgoing and bubbly personality.

And then there was me. A failure. The disappointment of the family. I couldn't control my anger. I drank too much. I started fistfights. The only thing my parents could be proud of was the fact that I had decent grades: A's across the board.

But school was utterly useless for me. Thoughts in my head moved a million miles an hour, and hearing teachers drone on about history and math held no interest for me. I could ace their classes without ever paying attention. It came naturally to me.

Anyways, back to my family. We were all adopted, but somehow, I was the only one who was fucked up in the head. None of my siblings seemed to deal with any of the shit that went on in my brain. It was probably because they were fortunate to be adopted before they could remember anything.

Both Mia and Elliot were adopted as babies. They had teenage mothers who wanted a better life for their children than they could have provided. I, on the other hand, was 4, and burned into my brain were the memories of the pimp beating me, burning me with his cigarettes. But the worst memory of all... Holding my mother's hand while she was stone cold and dead, begging, pleading for her to wake up.