BEWARE: the writing in this is from when I was younger, and is extremely cringey and cliche. I advise you not to read this because the writing in this is no longer a representation of my writing, and I think reflects very poorly on me. Instead, I'd...
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, I thought, yanking open my closet door and pulling out the first clothes in my line of sight. I was going to be late for school, and it was all because of my stupid alarm clock. I can't believe I trusted it.
Hastily slipping into my clothes, I didn't bother trying to rid my hands of the paint smeared across it. I had stayed up late last night, painting - a hobby of mines. It used to be a dream of mines to create beautiful artwork and sell them...but that was before Puck and my parents happened.
Grabbing my backpack and slinging it over my bruised shoulder, I rushed downstairs, mentally appreciating the fact that my dad was gone for the week to who knows where - probably drunk off his ass at another pub.
I ran all the way to school, my breathing rapid as my heavy backpack added to the weight of my sore muscles. My foot caught on a stone halfway to the school's front doors and I tumbled to the ground, groaning when I hit the ground with a thud.
There was sure to be bruise along my cheek and my ankle felt twisted. Nonetheless, I picked myself off the ground and hobbled my way to the entrance of the school. The bell rang as soon as I stepped foot inside the hallways and I cursed, dragging my left foot as I picked up speed to get to first period.
The teacher turned to me, a stern look on her face when I stumbled into the room. "You're late, Polly...again."
"S-sorry," I whispered, my cheeks heating under the intense gaze of everyone in the classroom. My teacher sent me one last pointed look before I turned to the classroom, my eyes picking out where to sit.
My breath caught in my throat when I saw the glare Puck had directed towards me. He was angry - angrier than yesterday, with the way his hands were balled into fists on the desk. His dark eyes dared me to sit anywhere but with him...where he was sure to lash out against me.
Feeling my legs wobble, I walked through the aisle to where Puck was sitting...until I caught sight of an empty seat. I let out a relieved breath, but that backfired as soon as Puck saw my line of direction and glared harder.
Please, God...
And with that pray, I took the empty seat next to the unfamiliar boy. My heart pounded inside my chest as I lowered my backpack to the ground, feeling Puck's eyes burning holes into my back.
I was brought out of my fearful thoughts when the boy slid closer next to me. "Hey," he whispered, his mouth curving into a shy smile.
My eyes widened. God, please, don't let Puck watch this. I bite my lip, allowing myself to mutter a soft, "Hi."
"I'm Owen," he introduced, extending his hand for me to shake. "New student here."
I ignored it, knowing Puck was watching me. "Polly." And then I turned away from him, hoping he would end the conversation there.
He didn't. "You're not much of a talker, are you?" he asked, chuckling.
I shrugged a shoulder, keeping my eyes trained on the board.
"It's okay. I suppose my mouth will be more than enough for the both of us." When I didn't reply to that, he placed his hand on my shoulder and I immediately stiffened. "Why so tense?" he joked.
I heard the squeal of Puck's chair sliding behind me, his breaths labored in fury. I shut my eyes tight as the tears began forming.
"Umm," I murmured, moving away from Owen's hold. "I'd appreciate if you didn't touch me."
"Oh." He frowned. "I'm sorry."
He sounded genuinely apologetic and hurt; it made me feel bad, so I slipped a small smile his way. Unfortunately, he took that as the wrong sign to continue talking.
However, before he could get the chance to utter a word, the teacher spoke up, "Owen! Is your conversation with Polly more interesting than my lesson? Maybe you two'd like to teach the class, instead, since you already know everything?"
Owen and I simultaneously flushed, my cheeks a deeper shade of red.
"N-no, Miss. Sorry," Owen apologized.
The teacher narrowed her eyes at us. "That's what I thought."
»« »« »«
As soon as the bell rang, I bolted out of the classroom, wanting to avoid both Puck and Owen, whom insisted on walking me to my next class.
Instead of going to my locker how I usually would, I made my to the girls bathroom instead, knowing Puck was probably following me.
I let out a relieved breath as soon as I entered the restroom. Girls were lined up at the mirror, giggling as they chatted with their friends. I sighed, wishing I could have friends, wishing my life could go back to the way it was - normal. Before Puck and before...my parents.
The girls all quieted when they caught sight of me, dispersing immediately as they sent odd looks my way. I crossed my arms over my chest, almost as if I could protect myself from their judgmental gazes.
Everyone knew about me and Puck, and they were all afraid of him, so they avoided me.
Feeling defeated, I walked up to one of the mirrors, scanning my appearance. Pale blonde hair fell down just below my shoulders in curls - I wanted to cut them because they were hard to handle, but Puck didn't allow that. My blue eyes stared back at me in the mirror, flecks of golden lining the center of the irises - they seemed dull, contrasting against my pale skin.
Why me? I wondered. Why did Puck have to ruin my life? I remember the days before him. I had a stable life. Both my parents were alive and loved me. I had great friends, a great boyfriend. Then, my mother died. But I truly believed I would get through it. After all, I still had people that loved me - my dad, my friends and my boyfriend.
But then, Puck had to come in and ruin everything. He threatened my boyfriend to stay away from me, and my boyfriend being the coward he was - or rather, is - listened. I guess I couldn't blame him, though. Everyone is afraid of Puck and his family. Why would anyone want to risk their life for me?
On top of that, after everyone had left, my father had started abusing me, courtesy of the numerous bruises and marks on my skin. Puck didn't know, though. I wonder how he would feel if he did know...
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, bringing me out of my thoughts as I turned away from the mirror and to the door with confused eyes.
"Polly," Puck's voice came from the other side as my eyes widened in fear. "Open the door, I know you're in there."
Speak of the Devil.
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