The Only Exception (Paramore/MCR crossover)

Chapter 2

My alarm wakes me at six am, as it usually does. I grab the phone that my parents were kind enough to buy me, and unlock it to stop Green Day's "Basket Case". I set it back on the nightstand, and get untangled from my deep purple sheets.

I walk to my closet, and examine my choices for the day. It's mostly band shirts and skinny jeans, so there isn't much variety. I have a few sweatshirts, plain tees, and skirts here and there, but other than that, it's all band shirts that I bought with money stolen from my parents.

I select a black Anthrax shirt, a red plaid skirt, and black fishnet stockings and lay them out on my bed. After pulling the drawer in the bottom of my closet out, I grab my black Doc Martens and throw them on the bed next to my clothes. I then walk into the bathroom attached to my bedroom and lock the door behind me.

I grab a red towel from the linen closet and put it on the rack for when I need it. With almost no effort, yesterdays clothes are on the floor. I step into the shower, and turn the knob, with the satisfying spray of water as a result.

I lean into the water flow to get my orange hair wet, then grab my damage repair shampoo, and squirt a glob of it into my hand, which I apply to my hair. I massage it into my scalp, and feel immediate pain when I touch the spot that my dad pulled yesterday. I step back under the water to rinse the shampoo out. I then pick up the damage repair conditioner, and put it in my hair, carefully avoiding the injured area. I take this as my chance to comb my fingers through my naturally straight hair. After rinsing my hair of the conditioner, I take my washcloth off the rack and put strawberry scented body wash on it, then wash and rinse my body. I grab my towel, and quickly dry my hair and body, then wrap it around myself and exit back into my bedroom.

I grab a matching black pair of underwear and bra, and put it on after dropping my towel in the hamper. I then put on the fishnet stockings, then my skirt, and then the tight-fitting Anthrax tee. My feet easily slide into my Doc Martens, and I make sure to grab my iPhone and stick it in my boot.

Quickly, I brush and straighten my hair and apply enough concealer to cover up my bruises. Before heading downstairs, I grab my black and purple backpack.

It's oddly quiet downstairs, which means my mom is at the preschool she works at, and my dad is out gambling. He never makes much money, so my mom works to help pay the bills. Not that we're struggling to pay the bills, we have enough money to live comfortably.

I exit the house with my backpack slung over one shoulder. I hate going to school. There are too many people, and none of them are intelligent enough to leave me alone. I'm constantly called 'emo' and 'freak'. I try not to be bothered by it, but you know what they say, 'sticks and stones may break your bones, but words leave psychological wounds that never heal'.

I start walking in the direction of the place I like to call hell. I see a few other people walking, and I take time to notice them. Maybe I could make a friend.

There's a boy with blond hair spiked up. He's wearing a letter jacket, so he's obviously a jock. Not friend material. There's a girl with curly dark brown hair in pigtails. She has on a bright pink dress. Not friend material. A girl with purple hair walks behind them. She's in a Green Day tee and black skinny jeans with Doc Martens to match mine. She is friend material.

I make my way over to her, and stop about a foot and a half away. I don't want to touch her. I'm sure she doesn't want to touch me either.

"Hi. I'm Hayley. I like your shirt," I say quietly. I never was one for talking a lot.

"Hello Hayley! I'm Abigail. I like your shirt too!" She says happily. We walk together the rest of the way to school. I find out that she's new here, she just moved from Ohio where she lost her father in a house fire( I don't think the real Abigail lost her dad in a fire. I was just using an OM&M reference). She lives two houses over from me, so I have a feeling I'll be seeing her a lot.