1 || private school??

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Tw for police, child abuse, swearing (*this won't be a common thing for the tws because this story will have lots of swearing in it), talk about cigarettes (that'll also be a common thing too, hehe sorry)

Any more I missed please comment thx and enjoy  -Starr

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"What the honk!?"

"Shush! Getting caught is the last thing we need!"

"Sorry! I just felt something touch me! I-i shouldn't be here!"

"You can't back out now! A dare's a dare!"

"I'm sorry, but tping the principal's house isn't such a good dare!"

"Well, we're out here already!"

"WHO THE HELL IS OUT THERE!?"

"Fuck!"

"Honk!"

"Put your hands up!"

"Drop your weapons!"

The bag of toilet paper fell out of my hands. This hasn't been the first time a dare went south. Honk! I'm in deep trouble now.

"You have been in trouble with the police and your school for far too long!" Mother says in a strict voice. "Your father and I are tired of this! My sister, and your aunt is making a private school, and you're going to it! I already called her and you're leaving tomorrow morning."

"What?!" I yell. "You can't just, ship me off!" I thought..they loved me..

"Well, Karl, you have proved to us that you can't be trusted." Father says, he steps closer to me. I step back almost instinctively. Fear ripples through me. "And do not raise your voice in this house. Your mother just has gotten your brother to sleep. We do not need the crying infant to disturb the peace that we have been gifted with."

"You don't care." I whisper, my heart breaking even more than they already have broken it. I try hiding the tears that were threatening to spill over my cheeks. Honk, I can't handle this. Maybe the new school wouldn't be so bad? At least I'll be the very first student.

Aunt Nikki doesn't have any kids. So, I'll be the first one there. She's already like my mom. More of a mom than mother will ever be. Ever.

I turn to go to my room, but I'm stopped by a hand yanking my wrist. "Where do you think you're going? We're not done talking to you, bitch."

I flinch at the swear word. I've been so used to no swearing from being around the baby. And anyway, the only thing close to swearing I've ever said was honk.

"You just have to know that you're a disappointment and a disgrace to this family." Father spits out of his venom filled mouth. "That you don't deserve anything. That you are nothing but a failure, and a brat." He punches my face a few times making me fall to the floor. He then kicks my stomach multiple times. I am most definitely afraid of him.

I hate him.

After a while of not feeling any kicks or punches, I get up. I rush up to my room, feeling sore now. I run into my room, locking the door behind me. I go into the bathroom connected to my room and look at my face. Not too bad, just a bit bloody.

I wet a washcloth and start wiping my face. Black eye, busted lip. Yup. Father. I grab the tape I use. I like to have this type of tape that people use to heal broken ribs and stuff. I have it, because of all the broken ribs I get. Feels like they're broken now. Honk.

There's something about me that's a little different from everyone else. I can sorta read minds. It's definitely crazy, I know, but I can just...hear the things that people think.

Okay okay, there's this one time in like, second grade, that this kid kept thinking rude and mean stuff about me, and I thought he was saying them and I punched him in the face for it. Oh! And I never get tests wrong when the questions are read out loud. The teachers always have the answers next to them, so they see the answers and I can see it in their head. Smart, aren't I?

I hurry around my room after leaving the bathroom. I pack up most of my belongings. My nail polishes, skirts, pants, shirts, hoodies, necklaces, bracelets, rings, laptop, diary, bear, my many phone cases, my photo album (for new memories and some of the old), Adventure Time DVDs (of the whole series), few sneaked cans of monster energy drinks, few packages of cigarettes I stole from father, my alarm clock, frog plushie, nail polish remover (I love different colors every day almost), shoes, boots (like the types that girls wear, love those), and the book of flowers (I made that by putting petals of flowers into the book and pressing them down, mother actually taught me how).

Two bags is all that took. Actually, three. My few blankets and pillows are with me too. I look around the now almost empty room and sigh. I might miss this place. At least I won't hear the fighting. Maybe this will be a good thing after all.

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855 words

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