So. It was decided, on the night of Halloween I'd go through the not so painful process of wearing the costume, but first I had to experience something I hated more than anything in the world (Yes. More than Sandra). Shopping. Of course my mother would insist it wasn't safe for me to go alone, I'd only end up getting lost. I knew my way around, after all i'd been dragged around by her many times in the past.
"Oh. Look at that dress!" she'd once cried as she rushed into the store. Picking it off the rack she held it before my very eyes. I recoiled in disgust. Never had I seen something so.. So.. Eurgh. There wasn't a word. I was sure I wouldn't be seen dead in a bright pink dress, laced with white ribbon, flowers occuring here and there. With a sigh I shook my head. Sadly. She bought it.
The bell sounded, signalling the lesson was over, but not the day. Staggering to my feet, as I just managed to break out of my daze, I gathered my stuff. So, I now knew what I was going to be, but now I had to find the costume. A good one, a realistic one. Surely that was possible, right? I guess i'd find out soon.
The day continued on like any normal one would; lessons, lunch and pain. I managed to avoid Sandra, but it's quite tough when her and her possy are looking out for you, wondering when to strike. I sat with Elijah during the last two lessons, he stared gormlessly at the front for a majority of the two hours, though his hand always seemed to dangerously inch closer to mine. Before the last hour was done, I'd thrown my pen to one side and pulled my hand to safety, his fingers curling up into a loose fist. Again I had to act as if I hadn't known a thing, as if I hadn't seen the frown form on his chapped lips.
I jumped to my feet the second the bell had started, most staring at me with wide eyes. I didn't care, I needed to run from this awkward situation.
"um.." I began as I turned to Elijah who had began to collect his belongings - not that he had much. "I just remembered... I have a detention." I knew this would be believable, for I tended to have a detention three or four times a week.
"I thought you always skipped them," Elijah quickly replied, his eyelids drooping over his eyes - as per usual.
Shit. I had forgotten that fact. My cheeks reddened, my heart pounding as I thought up another excuse. "it's Mrs. Glenn, you know how crazy she gets."
Elijah nodded in response, a dry laugh sounding.
Thank fuck he had believed me. Dragging myself out of the classroom, I exhaled all too heavily, my hand swiping over my brow, almost like that stereotypical away characters in movies did when escaping a terrible situation. But it had been a terrible situation. I didn't know how to handle emotions, I only had two and that was anger and depression.
After sticking back in the library, just to make sure I wouldn't bump into Eljah, I headed for home. Slinging my Emily The Strange bag up over my shoulder, I lowered my head, my fringe falling into my grey eyes. As I walked on down the road, an annoying laugh sounded, I didn't even need to turn around to know who it had been. My eyes narrowed, a grunt emitting from the base of my throat.
A roar of girly laughter erupted from behind me, I recoiled in disgust, they very sound of their shrieking causing my stomach to churn.
"she's such a gothic bitch," Sandra's voice had purposely risen to provoke me, but I wouldn't take the bait, I wasn't as dumb as her.
"I heard she talks to ghost," the tallest of them responded, her lips lathered with pink lipstick.
"Probably the only friends she can get," answered Sandra, her voice seeming somewhat closer, but I didn't dare turn.
"But then there's that greasy, emo guy," a girl snorted.
"He only wants to fuck her." it seemed Sandra had an answer for everything.
Her voice seemed so much closer, whereas the girls seemed at least eight or nine metres from me.
As I picked up my pace, my lips pressing into a straight line, my aggravation growing, I found myself stumbling forward. it seemed as if I'd tripped over something, but how could I have missed it with my head lowered to the ground? When I straightened myself, I discovered Sandra at my side. It must have been her who had tripped me up.
"Hey, Emily," she greeted me with a gruesomely, girly smile. Her blue eyes sparkled, a cold look lingering in them.
"what?" I snapped, my eyes closing momentarily as I attempted to calm myself. I was angered all too easily, meaning I had gotten into many fights.
"Someone's moody," she smirked, reducing the distance between us. "I just wanted to say hi, but it seems I've forgotten you have don't know how to talk too normal people. I'm sure you'll fit in well at the Asylum."
That was that. I couldn't take it, not anymore. That bitch needed slapping. Stopping dead in my tracks, I turned to look at her, my eyes darker than they had ever been. In fact they had turned black. This was something Sandra seemed to notice for no words seemed to mindlessly slip from her tongue. I hadn't even noticed as I Rose my palm, throwing it forward, it slapped against her cheek, a bloody scratch noticeable as I drew my hand away. I didn't even know how that had happened, I have no nails. My fingertips had felt weird, not from the slap, no, but from something else. Ignoring this, I noticed Sandra seemed to have been broken from her trance, her palm pressing to her wounded cheek.
"you crazy bitch!" she called out to me as she rejoined her friends.
Stepping back, I then turned from them, not wanting to hear what she had to say, well, shout. Running from the scene, my eyes returning to their normal colour, my pupils seen again, I breathed heavily. I would have done worse, I would have pushed her to the ground, I would have clawed at her hair, but something nagged at me, something weird.
Something had pierced through the skin of my fingertips, causing me to make Sandra bleed. but what had it been? Pushing it aside, for now, I breathlessly entered my home, the scent of a strong stew burning my nostrils. cringing, I quickly crept up the stairs, hoping to escape my questioning mother.
"Emily!" she called out, her footsteps sounding from within the next room. "is that you?"
Seeing her stumpy figure at the bottom of the stairs, I had no other option but to show myself, a sluggish smile spreading on my lips. "yeah. It's me," I grunted.
Staring up at me, she narrowed her eyes, her grey and dry curls falling into her fat features. "Why are you late home?"
"I was at the library," I scoffed, knowing she wouldn't believe me as lying was a habit of mine. but this time it had been true, I had been at the library, even if my intentions hadn't been to check out a book.
Luckily she hadn't answered, for the clicking off the front door had distracted her. Turning to watch the figure enter our home, my father's face was shown behind the frosty glass, his bright yellow tie had been all too obvious. He would always moan about how people tended to wear dark clothing on dark days, "it only darkens it more" he would say to me whilst fastening a brightly coloured tie, so, by wearing this, he assumed he made others brighten up - despite the weather.
Stepping into the hall, he greeted us both with a smile. My dad always tried to make me smile, but never succeeded. Nothing ever made me happy, and, when I did smile, it was the most rarest of occasions.
"Hello, how are my girls?"
I grunted, the noise resembling that of a restless wolf, as I turned away and clambered up the stairs, my shoe laces dragging over the carpet. I had escaped my parents who would ramble on about god knows what, for the night I sat and listened to music, some screamo, some gothic, my drawings stretched out over the desk. I would be planning my outfit for a majority of the night
YOU ARE READING
Puberty Problems (Unfinished)Fantasy
Emily Harris is like any other stereotypical gothic girl; she hides herself away from her friend and family, she listens to heavy music and her wardrobe consists of only black. But she soon finds out she's much more unique than any others, at the ag...