Screaming On The Inside

Late

I ran. My heart pounding like a bass drum. The hard concrete road pushed against my feet. I start to scream. Nothing came out. No words or sounds, just death.

Black clouds surrounded me. It was obvious that they were getting close. There was no way I could escape. The small city around me was dead and no one survived but me. And I was next. A hooded figure slowly made its way too me. Inching closer and closer each second. As it got closer, the face started to reveal.....

I was breathing hard. Everything stopped. I had to conclude what just happened. My 12:30 alarm went off. Crap I'm late for school! I shoved the sheets off my bed and ran for the basement. I don't pick my clothes out the night before. I started to grab random tops and pants. Finally a bra and underwear.

After I got dressed and had "breakfast" I started to leave, but my mother stopped me. "Late again hun?" she asks. Her gentle face turns to me. " What is going on? Do I need to take you to a doctor?"

I look at her. She is serious this time. " No I will be fine. I am already late enough. See ya!" I charge out the door with saying " I love you Mom!" I truthfully hated my parents. They never really cared about me.

One time when I was 8 they took me to a fair. At the time, fairs was like heaven to me. It was very colourful, and it seemed like I was high. Well I didn't know at the time but they gave me drugs when I was resting in the car. I didn't even know. In the middle of a kiddie ride I threw up and was wobbly. I tried to speak but my words were wobbly and slurred. Every one thought something was wrong with me. And they were right.

When I got to school, every one stared. Oh course I was late... Again. Now I had to find another excuse for being more than 4 hours late again. There was no possible way to get out of this one.
I started to head to 6th period. The hallways fluttered with whispers.

I started being late a month ago. People first thought it was a late tardy. The first week they called my parents,thinking I was trying to skip school. They then grounded me for the next week.

"Teresa Burnt. Come to the office please." Said the intercom in the hallway. Guilt and embarrassment washed over my body and face. If only I could be one day not late for once. Please!

As I walked to the office my friend, Casi, came over to me. Her real name is Cathrine, but everyone calls her Casi. Her mom died 2 years ago, but it seems she got over it. I still wonder why she is not as upset as her father these days after her mother died. She has the most beautiful blond hair, she also has purple streaks in her hair as well.

"Girl, you are in so much trouble this time. Mr. Moody is NOT gonna be happy." she says. I swear I was about to punch her. Next time I will. Definitely. I walk away, trying to ignore all her rude compliments. She catches up in the long hallway. She is the fastest girl on the Cross Country Team. "If you want anything, just scream." she says in a raspy voice. What? Why the hell would she say that? I thought.

I walked though the glass door to the office. Mrs. Friske looked up. Her old grey eyes full of sadness. " Sorry to hear you were late again Ms. Burnt." she says. As she speaks her wrinkles bounce, as if dancing. Her skinny bones show through her thin skin of fat. I can tell she doesn't eat as much fat as she should.

"Turn to the left to Mr.Moody's office miss." She said. I was in a very terrible mood. I glared at her, secretly threatening her. She some how noticed it and said, "You watch it young lady!". I ignored her and went too the left of the hallway to Mr.Moody's office.

Imagine this. Tall, pale vampire looking dude. No hair. He wears a purple tuxedo and fancy dress shoes. Typical Principe look right? WRONG! You have to look closely. Since I have been seeing him for the last month, I spent more time analyzing him than being him speak. I've noticed now and then blood strains on his perfect tuxedo.

His door is covered in love notes, from high school ages. Who knows how long ago that was. 1452? 1111?? Who knows. What I know is that he is old. Very old, but I don't know how old.
I look at his notes, knowing I don't have time to read them I read them anyway.