HER

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟷

♪ᴄᴏᴏʟ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ sᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ʙʏ ᴅᴇᴍɪ ʟᴏᴠᴀᴛᴏ♪

                                    Rᴏxʏ

Everyday seemed to be the same, the same old confusing dreams, the same tiring morning workouts and then of course there was school. I hated school the most.

The name's Roxy, but everybody knew me as Ro, don't ever suggest that we get to know each other, I'm not interested. I hate small talk, infact I hate unnecessarily talking. Bitch shoot me a look, it better be a blank stare. I'm not the type of girl you'd want to mess with. Got it?! Good! Glad doing business with you.

I sighed, shutting the dark blue colored diary. "This is boring, fuck diaries!" I cursed, throwing it onto the dresser from across the room.

The diary was a gift I got from my aunt for my 12th birthday. I was almost 18. She lived in England. She just also happened to be the kind of aunt who made the empty promises. I used to fall for them but the older I got, I realized you really can only depend on yourself.

Sure, diaries are cool and all, if you're one of those girly girls. I pulled the covers off from me and sat up. Almost immediately my phone began to buzz, making me jump slightly. I shoved my hand up underneath my pillow, searching for my phone, then simply tapped the stop to silence the annoying buzzing.

I groaned as I stood up from my bed, then walked out of my bedroom and tiptoed through the passage, passing my sister's room. I stopped and peeked into her room, she lied curled up in a ball, her duvet covers lying on the floor. I entered her room and picked the covers from the floor then tucked her in. Poor Lucy, I thought to myself.

She was only six yet she had witnessed so much. She must have been confused, wondering why her mom and dad couldn't just be a normal happy couple.

But then again, normal was overrated.

I pecked her on the cheek gently before walking out. I passed mom's room next. She was still asleep too. I stopped in my tracks, noticing her bruised face. They fought. Again.

My eyes prickled with a tear but I bit my lip extra hard. I was tired of crying. I was tired of it all. I closed her door quietly and walked into the bathroom further down the passage.

I stood in front of the mirror and looked at my reflection for a moment before washing my face with cold water, then my hands, the cold water stinging my bruised knuckles. Next I brushed my teeth, up and down and round and round. After a little bit, I spat out the remaining toothpaste in the sink and saw some blood in it. I rinsed my mouth, gargled and then wiped my face with a towel in the cabinet.

I walked out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. My stomach growled with hunger but unfortunately the fridge was bare as well as the cabinets. I needed to grab some groceries after my session at the gym, I thought to myself, grabbing a apple from the counter and running back to my room to get dressed.

I decided to wear Black joggers, a black tank top, a black hoodie and my black Nike airforce. Yes, I was getting dressed to attend a funeral.

Sorry, sarcasm just happened to be one of my strongest defenses.

I grabbed my gym bag and walked out of my room and into the living room, passing my stepdad. He barely noticed me, as he was always too stuck into his computer games. A grown ass man acting like a kid. It irritated me, to see him so unbothered.

My eyes gazed at his torn t-shirt and the scratches on his face. I shook my head in disgrace before walking out the front door.

I climbed onto my harley davidson XR750 motorbike. I knew it was nothing modern but she was a real bad bitch, incredibly fast and perfect for long drives through this busy city, especially at night! I bought her for my 17th birthday last year. Yes. I bought myself a motorbike.