PLEASE READ:
Hello, Undead Lovelies! Now, this is the Intro to this new HU FanFic, and I'm not updating the first chapter until I finish Linkin Undead. This is going to be sort of a comedy-like book, I honestly don't know how it's gonna go. There will be some weird things in here to make you laugh (I freaking hope) and maybe even possibly cry. Anyways, notice how I italicized "weird things". Let's just say those "things" are there to make you laugh and/or make you give the WTF face at your device.
I will be serious as well. It may get out of hand, and the comedy may disappear once and awhile.
Enjoy this Intro, and freaking add it to your library if you like it!
~Trista Duran~
Let's just say I'm not a normal "white girl" (ugh, that phrase makes me cringe in pain every time I hear it. White girl, white girl, white girl). Neither am I some sort of "goth" "emo" and/or "scene" girl. I guess you could call me a "tomboy".
While all you "White Girls" are wearing crop tops and short-shorts, sipping on your Starbucks, I'll be wearing, what, black jeans and flannel hoodies (I love Starbucks, but it's not like I go there every motherf*cking day just to get a 6 dollar drink)? That sounds about right.
My build is sort of stocky, I honestly don't even fit in with the other girls. I'm not even that muscular, it's not like I'm the Rock. My body is very fit, and I am 5'4. Yeah, not the tallest person you'd possibly know, but who the hell gives a sh*t?
My hair is naturally blond, and my eyes are blue. I've thought about dying it 1,000 times, but Then I remember I have beautiful hair. My lips are sharp and a bit large, and sometimes I get bags under my eyes which look like I've snorted a bunch of cocaine. It sucks.
I'm 26(and a half to be exact), finishing collage, and I was adopted the Duran's when I was 1. My parents are unknown, so are my siblings. It made me upset because I didn't know any of this sh*t. My adopted parents never told me, they didn't even tell me that I was adopted until I was 16. I knew by then, because I looked nothing like my mom, nor my dad.
Now, I went to an Art Institute in LA, so that I could get a degree and actually do animation and act. It's what I've always wanted to do, since it sounded very enjoyable, and I love art.
I moved my right hand from underneath me. The sheets of the bed were very soft, and smelt of zinc more than a clean laundry detergent smell.
A guy smell.
My left hand was under my chest, just the way I always sleep. Not because I did it to arouse myself, it was just a habit of laying on my left hand. I slowly slid my hand out from under me, noticing that I had complete sense of touch surprisingly.
I was naked.
Now, this made me panic. I shuffled my legs back and forth for awhile, until I hardly tapped someone in bed next to me with my toe.
Sh*t.
I slowly rolled into my back, then sat up. There were clothes scattered across the room. A LA SnapBack and white bandana lay next to each other, and I tried to make out the words on the cloth.
Charles P. Scene.
