Today a Slave, Tomorrow a Rose

Chapter One

New school, new life.

New school, new life.

New school-

"Hey loser! Nice hair!"

Same old bullies.

I was hoping that moving to a new town would mean a new start. The chance to not be branded as a freak. Unfortunately it seemed as though everywhere I went I always ended up being known as the freak. It was inevitable.

In a day and age where it takes 0.5 seconds to be able to contact someone across the world, you'd think petty name calling would be a thing of the past. But no, the idea that you have to voice your opinion on everything little thing is still going strong and it seems to drag everyone down into it's bottomless pit.

Me, well I was considered a freak due, usually, to my appearance. I had long nearly waist length hair that I usually wear down and straight. The only problem people have with it is that it's a light purple. I wear makeup and enjoy rock music, I wear black most of the time and keep to myself. I have light blue eyes which usually are encased in lids with black eyeshadow and my plump lips are almost always painted deep red. Personally I don't see why people act superior around me but I've come to terms with it.

I get straight A's and almost always end the year with the top marks in my class. Though past experiences suggest that no one gives a fuck what is true or not. It's sad really. People that are destined to over take companies and curve the world for the next generation are mostly just close minded, unintelligent, sex crazed, children themselves.

Sighing to myself I readjusted my bag and headed to where my new locker was supposed to be located. According to the schedule I was given I had English to start with. I enjoy English. It's fascinating the works of art that were and will be created by placement of sounds our brains recognize and interpret, that someone came up with long ago.

I reached my locker while a bunch of students stampeded through the halls. I went to school early so I could receive my schedule and the convoluted map to my locker. I put in a combination that was given to me and started to put my black backpack into the small space.

"Hey freak where ya from?" A guy about 6'4" slammed his hand into the locker beside me missing my head by less than 2 inches. He's decent looking, probably one of the popular guys. He wore a plain black t-shirt that showed off his bulging muscles. He also had on dark blue jeans that were slightly worn down near his feet. His eyes held his pride visibly and his hair was a mass of blonde waves. I've had to deal with guys like this before. Many, many times before. And I know that just ignoring their existence sends them into a fit in which they get their ego bruised and I get peace and quiet after awhile.

"Hey I'm talking to you, freak." He started to raise his voice. Me being the smart ass I am just looked at him with my eyebrows slightly drawn up, blinked once, and looked away again.

"Hey bitch, what are you, blind?" He was practically yelling at that point and people decided to watch. Pathetic.

"If I were blind I wouldn't be gagging at the sight of you." I stated mater-of-factly, the gathering crowd around us ooh'd their amusement. I just turned away and resumed gathering my supplies for English. Once I had all my stuff ready the blonde haired asshole swatted them from my hand, causing them to land on the floor with a thwack.

"Oops." he said.

While looking at my supplies that had landed in front of me, I sighed. "Are you really so deeply lost in your inferiority complex that you have to turn to petty middle school moves to make yourself feel adequate in situations that you otherwise shouldn't be involved in?" I briefly massaged my temples before leaning down to collect my English supplies.

"Say that again bitch I dare you!" The blonde haired annoyance, held up his fist an inch from my face. Looking from his fist back up to his scrunched up face, I let out another deep breath.

"Violence? Really? I realize you have a limited vocabulary, the degree of that limitation quite probably resembling that of a 4 year old, but didn't you're mommy ever tell you to use your words not your fists?" If we were in one of those old cartoons you would have been able to see the smoke steaming clearly from his ears, the colour of his face looking like that of a tomato.

"That's it!" He swung his fist out quickly, nearly hitting my face. Nearly. I dodged right and he stubbed forward with the force of his punched. With that all I had to do was stick out my foot causing him to topple forward to the ground. Everyone around us laughed.

"Well I'm off to class but if you'd like to continue this conversation another time, I'd be happy to teach you some manners." I left the crowd of people as they roared louder due to my comment.