If the Projects could talk, they would have told her eons ago; that the road she had been headed down would lead to her own self destruction.
They would have warned her, in light whispers that the friends she called her own would have betrayed her;...
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𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒄 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍
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The alarming sound of the school's bell ringing knocked Anael out of her temporary gaze. She ran her short fingertips through each knot in her coarse hair, sighing lowly to herself for what had felt like the thousandth time that period.
The tip of her number two pencil pressed against her lips, trailing gently across her skin as she glanced at the blank white board before her, pinning her thoughts on anything but the discombobulated scene surrounding her.
Boisterous children threw crumpled paper balls towards one another, crashing and falling to one of the many graffiti decorated wooden tables fixated in the room, chipped and shedding ashy dirt from the many years of constant neglect that had passed.
However, Anael was the exception. She along with a select few comprised to form the small population of Douglass High School pupils who actually attended class to learn and not merely socialize.
