Bloodlust || pjm ✓

Chapter 1 - Presence

Y/n POV

I stood in front of the mirror. I pulled on the end of the short, red plaid skirt as if I thought I could make it longer somehow. I fixed my black tie, patted down my hair pulled back in a ponytail and undid the top button of my white blouse so that I could breathe. It's almost like these uniforms were created purely for the boys, giving them motivation to actually come to school. To ogle and taunt the girls in these unbelievably short skirts. Animals.

I let out a deep sigh and put on some lightly red tinted lip gloss, after all, first impressions are the most important part of survival in this zoo-like environment named high school. There's no strict way of telling how a pride of hungry lions will react to the scent of fresh meat, waltzing onto their territory, it all depends on if they're hungry or not.

I grabbed my bag and turned the light off as I walked out. I loosened my tie a bit in an attempt to remain calm, loosen up and forget the paranoia. I tried to fight the nerves, it's just high school, just work hard and study hard and you'll be fine.

I walked downstairs and grabbed the toast I had made earlier, stuffing the cold crispy piece of bread in my mouth and walking towards the door. My foster dad, Andrew, either leaves for work earlier than me, or didn't come home at all the previous night. I hardly ever see him most days; you don't become the richest person on the block by sitting on your ass at home all day. But in saying that. He does occasionally sit back, and drink away his problems.

I walked out and reluctantly dragged myself to the bus stop, a 5-minute walk away from the house, but it felt much longer.

I got on the bus and was already earning more curious stares than I was comfortable with, maybe a few disgusted ones as well. The smell was a mixture of dust and too much cheap perfume. The seats were covered in an uncomfortable and itchy fabric that easily gathered the substance that gave off that musty smell. It was blue with weird orange and green patterns all over it. I wonder who chooses this stuff.

I stuck my earphones in as I sat down. Throughout the whole bus ride, I felt a strange, presence directly behind me. Like someone was intensely staring at the back of my head the entire time. I couldn't look back to check, in case I was right. I didn't want to make eye contact with them.

I got off of the bus and walked through the large doors at the entrance that people were already rushing in and out of. Lockers lined the walls, all the way to the end of the hall. The blue paint was chipped with air bubbles all over it, like the person who first painted it put minimal effort in. The lockers were rusty and a few had dents in them, what kind of activity goes on at school that's violent enough to put a dent in the metal.

You had your standard doors after every block of lockers. The same blue with one single square-shaped window in the upper middle, that had that weird sticker on them with the thin lines, what were those even on there for?

The walls were covered with bright posters advertising things that nobody was interested in. There were several cork boards with layers of club invitations and sign up papers. I scanned them as I walked past.

The crowd was intense, how did they manage to pack this many people into one school? Everyone was shoulder to shoulder, the way every person struggled to get through the crowd made it seem like every person had some incredibly important place to be, but I highly doubt it was actually that important.

I finally made it to my locker and put a few things in but I wasn't the kind of person to decorate it. What's the point? I don't want to decorate a rusted piece of metal that I'm soon going to learn to loathe seeing every day.

I put my hand on my locker and closed it, as I turned around with my books help tightly to my chest, trying to take up as little space in this tightly crowded room as possible, I saw everyone chatting with their friends. The scariest part of this whole experience pounced at me, those metaphorical lions turning out to be something other than the boys. Making friends. Maybe I should look into a club for once in my life.