I picked up the first shirt in my closet to find that it was my favorite band's t-shirt.
Sighing in relief, I slipped it over my head and pulled my hair into a high ponytail.
I threw on a pair of black leggings and high waisted denim shorts before yanking my brown combat boots on.
This was the second time I was going to be late for school and I didn't need a detention.
My parents were already all over my back because I skipped school three days in a row last week without their consent.
I couldn't care less about school because honestly, I didn't think that I would make it to my senior year.
Most people look at me and wonder why I am the way I am, and frankly, I don't have an answer for them.
I'm not dying, poor, unintelligent, nor do I have horrible parents.
Sometimes, I think the only reason that I'm so depressed is because I'm so confused on what the planet has to offer and the fact that I'm so upset and angry when I know that there are other people alive that have so much worse than I do.
I ran down the stairs and slipped out the door and down the path that my realtor father had paid men to lay last summer.
I rolled my eyes at the promise that he had made me then.
"I promise Bre. Me and you. Just us this summer. We can do anything!"
"Can we fix the path outside to match the stone out back?"
"Of course."
I frowned at the memory and sighed.
As I turned around the fence, I ran into someone who I fell top of.
"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry," the boy said, trying with too much effort to get up without touching any part of me.
"It's fine," I said, crawling onto hands and knees to pick up all the scattered books.
I reached for the book that we were reading in English just as the boy did. Our hands met and I looked up to see beautiful blue eyes hidden behind glasses.
The boy flinched back and allowed me to take the book.
"Thanks," I said, standing and taking the load of books that he had picked up.
"No prob-b-lem," he stuttered.
I raised an eyebrow at him and smiled, "What's your name? I'm Breanna."
The boy pushed his glasses further onto his nose with his index finger and replied, "My name is Chandler."
I nodded and asked if he wanted to walk with me to school.
"Uh... yeah. Sure," he replied.
We turned and made it onto school grounds without anymore collisions.
"So, I don't mean to pester you," Chandler said, breaking the silence we had kept since leaving my house, "But why did you do that to your hair?"
I gave him a look of confusion. I hadn't done anything special to my hair today. In fact, all I did was run a brush through it before rushing out of the house.
"You know, all of the colors," he explained.
I chuckled a bit, "Oh, I liked the colors purple and turquoise together so I decided to have the colors patterned into my hair."
I loved my hair. Every so often, I would dye it a new color to get away from the average brown that my hair was naturally. I just loved how the color gave me a satisfaction that nothing else I did could.
Pretty soon, the bell rang and we had to go off to class. Sadly, I had math first.
I hated the teacher.
He always came to school with stains on his shirt and since I sat in the front row, he would spit on me. Plus, he was just a horrible teacher. I never understood anything that he taught me.
At all.
But, today was different.
I finally had someone to talk to.
I never noticed that Chandler was in this class until he walked into the room with me.
~
After the bell rang, I lifted my head off the table and rubbed the sleep from my eyes.
Sadly, Chandler was one of those students that actually got really nervous when they thought they would get in trouble for something, so that pushed talking to him during class eight off the table.
As I lifted my bag off the floor, I noticed that my wristbands were gone.
I looked down and on the floor to see if they had fallen off.
There they were, on the floor, cut up and leaving me there, arm naked, ready to be mocked.
I looked back and figured out who the culprits were right away. They were the same kids that havenbeen bullying me for the past three years.
Normally, the things that they did were harmless and didn't bother me. Tying my shoe laces together, drawing male extremities on my paper, teasing me about my hair, but they never did anything like this.
"Oh my gosh, that psycho bitch is emo."
"She only does it for attention."
"She obviously wants to die. Rightfully so."
I looked down at the red and white on my arm that I had learned to become so comfortable with.
I felt the tears in my eyes as I turned to the door and ran down the hall to the girl's bathroom.
Freedom and prison had come with these scars. I loved how I felt when I was making them, but always felt like shit after the fact.
I had really hoped that I could hide them away at least until I worked up enough courage to finally erase myself from the world entirely.
Suddenly, I heard the door open and sat on the toilet with my legs up, so whoever it was couldn't see me.
"Breanna," I heard,"Please come out."
I buried my face in my bare arms and sighed.
It was Chandler.
What was he doing in the girl's bathroom?
"If you don't come out, then I'm coming in," he warned.
I stayed exactly where I was and then heard a sigh.
I watched as Chandler dropped to his chest and slid under the stall door and into the stall so he was facing me.
When he stood up, he looked at me, perched on the toilet seat.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
I shook my head,"You know exactly what I'm doing. I'm hiding out here until school's out and I can go home and never come back to school again."
Chandler looked at me and extened his arm in motion for me to take his hand.
I looked at it skeptically, but quickly determined that this was awkwardly social Chandler.
He took my hand and made me stand away from the toilet.
He gently flipped my arm over so he could see every last cut that was new or old.
"Scars make people better," he said tracing the fading white lines,"You see your scars and you know that this can never happen again. They're teachers that give us lessons."
He let my hand go and I let it fall to my side limply.
"These scars are lessons that show you never to do this again. You're too... too bea-u-utiful for this," he continued shyly.
I blushed as he slowly took his sweatshirt off and handed it to me.
"Cover them and come out. I don't want you to be in here all day. It's n-nasty," Chandler said with a small laugh.
I smiled and pulled the shirt over my head.
Chandler started to go to unlock the door, but I took his wrist and stopped him. I pulled him into a hug and to my delight, the socially awkward Chandler put his arms around me too.
Part 2 or no? Sorry for the long wait. It probably wasn't even that good. I apologize, but I do thank you for reading this story. OMG!!!! It's three a.m. Remember, you can message, comment, or even Snapchat me your ideas. Follow me at Mika_Hill. ~Luv ya Miki