Bar Red's Redemption (Edited)

4: An Ending and a Beginning - Senior Year

"Home wasn't a set house, or a single town on a map. It was wherever the people who loved you were, whenever you were together. Not a place, but a moment, and then another, building on each other like bricks to create a solid shelter that you take with you for your entire life, wherever you may go."
―Sarah Dessen

Edited and with new content! Although small, there is changes here that are not in the previous version! Still pretty long, though, just over 7k words. Which, just, dang.

Also, I'm editing this by myself (my sister helps on occasion) and because of this, the editing and finding spelling errors may not be perfect. PLEASE point them out (in a nice way) if you see any. Again, thank you all for reading this, love ya!

Chapter 4:
An Ending and a Beginning - Senior Year

For a long time now, Bar Red decided that he just fucking hates people.

It was an easy decision really, one that he didn't find hard to hang onto, and the opinion turned into menacing glares and consistently wicked smirks that reminded everyone just how bad the delinquent could truly be.

For example, when he walked into Astor Town's own god-forsaken High School office for the first time in two years, the secretary gave him a disgusted look.

This resulted in Bar scoffing at the 'professionalism' and plopping into the uncomfortable waiting room's chair, kicking his feet onto the table, and raising his arm to give the lady the bird.

After getting forced to return, there's not a lot that he's willing to put up with, so he really didn't care about offending her or anyone else.

It's not like he wanted to be here, anyway.

"Um," a soft, squeaky voice laughed out nervously from his side. "Why are y-you flipping me off?"

Bar popped one eye open and promptly did a double-take at the girl in front of him, his crooked smirk almost falling off.

The first thing he noticed was a white, jagged scar that traveled up from her throat, onto the side of her jaw, ghosting the edge of her lips, over her nose and right eyebrow before jutting across her forehead and disappearing under her hairline.

It wasn't unsightly or ugly just—there.

Bar knew a thing or two about scars, knew how they were made and knew that she had gone through something extremely painful and survived.

Because that scar, he could tell, was deliberate.

Like someone wanted to hurt her and they thought that was the best way to do it. Scars of violence don't just leave an imprint on the body, but one on the mind too, so they were right in the worst way possible.

Her mint eyes looked familiar, eerily so, but his memory was shot to hell, so he tried not to think too much about that.

Wavy raven hair framed an attractive face with slightly chubby cheeks and a nervously twisted mouth. Her nose was slightly too small on her face but in a cute way, and it was a little crooked, meaning it was broken at some point. The top of it was bright red in embarrassment and the rush of blood easily showed on her pale-looking skin.

She had dark freckles that were covering the spaces underneath her eyes, over the bridge of her nose, and a couple on her forehead too. Bar even noticed one below her lips.

She was a little plump for her pixie stature and he would willingly bet that every single curve of her body would feel soft and wonderful beneath his fingers. She wore a loose long sleeve, a skater skirt with dorky dinosaurs on it, and combat boots with smiley faces etched into the surface with gold marker.