Sleeping With Sirens (A Siren's Love, Reimagined)

One: Built for the Sea

DAY ONE

My alarm went off at five thirty in the morning. I know, it's a travesty. I groaned as it mercilessly beeped in my ear and I rolled over on the cot, fumbling with my phone and finally snubbing it. My eyes had just drifted closed again when my bedroom door flew open, and Carina, my step momster gently shook me awake. I mumbled a string of unintelligible protests under my breath as she brushed the hair from my face.

"Wake up sweetie, we have to be on the road by seven."

I sat up as she walked out, running a hand through my bedraggled hair and trying my hardest not to hate the world. Struggling to my feet, I stumbled into the bathroom and flipped on the light, the bags under my eyes and dark blood-red hair falling over my shoulders only added to my sallow expression. I glared at the paleness of my face, resenting the fact that I wasn't born with freckles to even out the oddity that was myself. My green eyes were so dark they appeared almost black in certain lighting.

Turning away, I stripped off my sleep shorts and tee shirt, climbing into the shower. I loosed a torrent of curses as the cold spray hit me first, and then a sigh of relief when the warmth seeped into my bones. As much as I hated getting up this early, I was excited for the change of scenery. California wasn't it, and I hoped Long Beach would have more opportunities for me there besides relentless bullies and being the school's freak show.

Bracing my palms on the shower wall, I let the water pour over my head, imagining the waves instead. The only thing about Cali that was worth enduring is the ocean. Growing up there, I had never felt like I fit within the rich kid society. Having two moms who were both cops, we didn't have a ton of money, but they always made sure we were fed and taken care of. I loved the beach house we'd picked out, a two story right on the edge of the sandy beach with double doors leading to two balconies. I hoped the moving company got there before us, hell no was I moving furniture after a fourteen hour drive.

After washing myself and shaving what I could through bleary eyes, I turned off the shower and dried myself off, running a brush through my thick hair. The only thing my appearance offered me was a minimal need for makeup. My lashes were long and inky, my cheekbones prominent and my lips naturally full. I was somewhat proud of my angular jawline and curves, taking pride in the fact that my moms had me running at twelve. I was curvy but my stomach was flat and toned, my arms as well, though no one would know under the baggy sweats and hoodies I wore to go unnoticed by society.

Shrugging into my favorite boxers and joggers, I slipped a AC/DC crew neck over my head, declining to wear a bra. I threw on my favorite coat and shoved my phone into my pocket, looking around my room for the last time. It wasn't much, but it was me, and I'd miss it.

A knock at the door had me spinning around, and a smile twitched my lips as my mom, Lia, leaned against the door frame. Her dark auburn hair gleamed in the early light, her emerald eyes glittering with mirth.

"Ready to go?"

I gave her a look and she laughed, moving to wrap me in her arms. I allowed it even though my skin rebelled, loosing a torrent of uncomfortably prickly vibes. It wasn't that I was fearful of touch, it was that no one could touch me without me experiencing physical discomfort. When I was little I would scream and cry when hugged, and after years of therapy my parents finally let it go. I didn't know why I was the way I was, but luckily I didn't care.

"Yeah, can we stop for coffee?" She stroked my hair for a moment before pulling away and I fought the urge to sigh in relief.

"Yes, I think donuts are a must as well."