Lost In Your Tattoos || l.p.

one

👑Reagan👑

"Get your ass up!", my best friend Mica yells. Her real name is Michaela, but when we were in 3rd grade, she threatened to pull all of my teeth out if I called her that.

"One more minute!", I yell back.

She opens the door and grabs my duvet.

I groan, but sit up, knowing she'll force me out of bed. I stumble out of my quaint bedroom, which I've resided in for only a year.

You see, my mom has been in the hospital with cancer and she doesn't have long to live. My mom and I are really close, so knowing that not even money can save her, hurts.

My dad died in a gang fight when I was nine years old: nine years ago. Now, I'm 18 years old. Without any immediate family to take care of me, I moved in with my best friend and her very generous family. I've been here only a year, but I've grown so close to these people, who are my second family.

I make my way into their generously sized kitchen, which lies right outside my bedroom door. I grab a bowl and dump Apple Jacks and milk into it.

After scarfing down my breakfast, I go to my room and and get dressed. I throw on skinny jeans, a preppy, light pink top, and black Vans.

"Almost done?", I shout playfully from the living room. "It's on!", she screams.

We race to her red Porsche and burst out laughing when her parents shout, "Careful!", from the front porch. Her parents are famous biomedical engineers. To put it simply, they're super rich.

When we pull up to the high school which we'll be leaving for good in two days. We both sigh and glance at each other. Mica and I are well known at our school for being kind. We are, what you might call, the Cinnas of Everett High School. (Hunger Games reference)

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I hopped into Mica's car as she rambled on about how much fun tonight's gonna be. So earlier, one of her friends invited her to a club that they were all going to, so she told me that I HAVE to come even though I HATE clubs and alcohol and drugs; anything where people are sweaty, smell gross, and act irrationally.

I look down at my jeans and top, that I had been wearing all day. Against all the complaints and whining from Mica, I ended up not wearing the skimpy dress she held up to my athletic body.

Even with all the food I eat, I'm still super skinny, because I have a high metabolism. I'm always running on a track, a field, or a court.

She pulls into the parking lot of a building that has loud music booming from the inside. "There's no way I'm going in there!"

"Reagan, come on! Don't be a wuss", she begs. I would have given her a peace of my mind, but I'm not in the mood to argue so I step out of the expensive car.

"Finally you have some common sense", she jokes, but I just keep walking.

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I sneak out after 10 minutes of hiding in that horrible place. I probably had about 30 people try to grind on me.
Let's just say, they won't be bothering me anytime soon.

It's midnight and I figure that Mica's gonna go home with a stranger like she always does. Yep, she's had sex probably 1,000,000 times and I still haven't had my first kiss. I walk down an alley that's a shortcut to the quiet neighborhood we live in. I know, not the smartest idea to go down an alley in the heart of London at night, but the countless nights of staying up late for the past four years have caught up to me. I just want to get home and sleep.

As I make my way through the alley, I hear a bottle roll. I turn around just in time to see the outline of a tall man in front of me.