Annas POV:
“The slaves were whipped and dragged onto the ships called slavers by the British and brought to America…”
“What goods did the British take from America?”
“Anyone?”
“Miss Dayley!?"
My slumber was cut short as my ears rung with the sound of my name being yelled in the fairly big class room. I instantly shot up, my head jerking upwards from its previous resting position on my arm as I looked around my surroundings, dumbfounded. A series of mumbled words stumbled from my dry mouth and I cringed as everyone laughed at my confusion.
“Don’t you be sleeping in my history class” Miss Miller scolded me, turning my attention to her standing by her desk.
“Sorry…”
“Okay, so where was I? Ah yes so the slaves would be transported……”
Rubbing my eyes violently I tried to sit up straighter in order to keep myself awake but couldn’t help but feel the sleep embracing me into its peaceful state once again.
I felt my eyelids become heavy as I rested my pointy chin on the palm of my hand, becoming abundant each time Miss Miller spoke.
A squeal erupted from beside me, making me snap out of my tired state and groan as I turned to my right to see Mariah staring at her phone under the table with a red face.
“Oh my God, Niall looks so fit in this picture” she squeaked, trying to be as quiet as possible but evidently failing as she earned a glare from the teacher causing me to roll my eyes at childish her behaviour and yawn.
But she didn’t give up there as she hastily pulled on my scarlet red cotton jumper, pleading me to look at her phone and as I squinted my eyes once they came in contact with the bright phone screen a picture of Niall standing with some fan pierced into my orbs. He stood covered in yet another sleeve of tattoos and I turned to look at Mariah whilst shaking my head to see that she had dramatically sprawled herself across the desk, fanning her beetroot red face with her lips pressed tightly together as if she was trying to supress a scream which only made me roll my eyes once again.
“Mariah…it’s only a bloody picture get over it”
“NO! It’s a picture of Niall Horan” She gasped, emphasising the ‘Niall Horan’ part.
I really didn’t get what was so special about him! She would show me a new picture of him every day, either one that he posted on Instagram or one that a fan posted desperate to get me to see the beauty in his tattooed attire but it would never faze me, in my opinion he only became famous because of his dad and to be honest Niall was just using the money for his punk appearance, my point getting proven each time he would get a new tattoo, which was approximately every week.
I began to comb my chestnut brown hair back with my fingers and looked ahead, trying to focus but was cut short of my concentration when I felt his cold stare burning on me making my heart beat accelerate. Shivers went down my back and I sub consciously shuddered, giving him the sign that I knew he was observing me.
Piercing my eyes into the white board that had my teachers handwriting sprawled all over it in black marker I tried my best to listen to her endless rambling, however failed to concentrate as I felt his cold eyes fixated on me and despite the many times I told myself to focus and look to the front of the room, his stare always seemed to avert my mind to him.
‘He’ was Andrew Tomlinson, the person who made my life more miserable than it already was, or as most people knew him, my best friend’s boyfriend. Taking in a sharp intake of breath I tried to stay calm but terribly failed as the palms of my hands began to sweat and my mouth started to feel dry.
YOU ARE READING
Scars
Fanfiction"She was the air I would kill to breathe, it was just unfortunate that to be able to breathe I had to kill her"
