Abusively Adored

Chapter 2

My eyes open to the song, Satellites by Sleeping With Sirens blaring. I press the snooze and get out of bed. My eyes still have closed from still being tired. I open my drawer, putting on a Marceline and Marshal Lee t-shirt. I grab my black, ripped skinny jeans and black socks, throwing them on. I go to the bathroom, putting on black eye-shadow, mascara, black eyeliner, and cover up for my arms. I brush my hair, straightening it, then brushing my teeth. I use mouthwash and then throw on my beanie and grey hoodie. After grabbing my black messenger bag, I grab my car keys. I head out of the door and walk towards my black jeep. I hope in the car, plugging my phone into the stereo. If I'm James Dean, You're Audrey Hepburn starts playing and I listen to the song on repeat the whole ride there.

~❤~

"Here's your schedule, locker number with its combination, student handbook and map of the school," the lady says with a fake smile. I just nod with a smile and walk out of the office. Okay, the first period is Algebra with Mr. Johnson in room 304. I walk up the stairs and go straight. It was the 1st door to my left. The tile on the floor is covered in shoe marks and a chunk of tile is literally missing. I walk through the old, wooden door frame and quietly walk up to Mr. Johnson.

"Oh, you must be Amelia," he says with a smile. His brown hair is held together probably by moose. Bags under his blue eyes, but barely noticeable. His skin is slightly tanner for being in the middle of fucking November. His white dress shirt is wrinkled, obviously, he doesn't care about his appearance. His slacks go to the floor and a little over his black shoes that need a good polish.

"Yeah, that's me," I mutter with sarcasm.

"Don't worry about fitting in. I personally think fitting in is overrated," he says with enthusiasm. Must have put three 5 hour energy with his cup of coffee. How the hell is he not having a heart attack?!

"Class. Class!" Mr. Johnson yells. They all shut up and turned their attention to him. Some were slightly looking towards me. I just pretend the stares don't bother me.

"We have a new student. Would you like to introduce yourself?" he asks with a smile. I just nod, knowing it's more of a command than having an option. I turn my attention to the students.

"I'm Amelia Fray. I just moved here from a small town just outside of the city in Pittsburgh," I say.

"So are you a ghetto chick?" a kid with blonde hair and a football jacket on, asks.

"No, I'm not ghetto. Please refrain from stereotypes and rumors. If you can, we'll get along fine," I say, trying to not build up anger.

"But what if we don't want to get along with you?" a brunette chick with 7-inch heels, short denim skirt, and low cut, white blouse, questions.

"Then don't talk to me. Simple, but don't hurt yourself with common sense," I growl, gritting through my teeth. The girl scoffed and I smirked with satisfaction. If she wants to be a bitch to me, fine. But I won't tolerate her punk ass attitude. Mr. Johnson hands me a textbook and the notes for the chapter. I nod and walk to the back of the class, sitting down the desk in the corner of the window. I put in my headphones and put on Don't Go by Bring Me The Horizon. I do my homework and read Fallen afterward.

"Okay, so read Chapter 4 tonight and do questions 2-34 on pages 131 and 132," Mr. Johnson announced. Everyone started to pack up and as I grab my book, someone smacked it off of my desk. I look up to see the chick from earlier.

"In case you haven't heard, the name is Elizabeth. You may call me Lizzy," Bitchy says. I pick up my book. I reach for my bag but Lizzy snatched it and dumped out the stuff I got from the office, my pencils, my notebooks, and a few binders. She snickered.