𝟐 - 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐘

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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐

𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐘 .

The loud ringing sound of gwen's alarm clock echoed in her ears, she groaned loudly, pointing her wrists to her loud frog-themed alarm clock, shooting a web at it and pinning it to the wall, shutting it up.

"Fuck."

Monday morning.

School.

Gwen hated school.

Who didn't?

She dragged herself out of bed, knowing she had no choice but to go to school. She went to visions academy; an elite boarding school, that expected good grades and good behaviour. She only got in because she was recommended — being a daughter to a captain of a police department, and being super smart.

She hated that stupid hellhole. She hated the uniform the most. She wished she could wear what she wanted, but she was stuck with those itchy skirts and tight button up shirts and boxy blazers that made her look like a Minecraft avatar, giving her the biggest shoulders known to man.

She sat up on her bed, glancing to the framed selfie of her and Peter, a small smile forming on her lips. She looked at how happy Peter was in the picture, his big round red glasses, his brown messy hair and his brown eyes, a huge smile on his face as he had one arm wrapped around Gwen.

"Good morning, Peter."

She stood up, walking to her bathroom and taking a shower and brushing her teeth, getting dressed in her shitty uniform, considering shooting herself to avoid going to school, narrowly avoiding the idea, staring at herself in the mirror.

"Jesus Christ —- I look like shit." She whispered to herself in her full length mirror, wearing her uniform; a white button up shirt, with a grey jumper with the vision academy logo on her breast pocket, the sleeves rolled up, studded and spiked bracelets on her wrists, her tie done lazily, sloppy, her collar unbuttoned, revealing her choker, her itchy skirt on with her tights underneath, wearing a pair of black worn out all star converses, mud and dust covering them.

She knew the school didn't allow trainers or boots —- but she didn't care. She wasn't going to wear those annoying flat shoes.

She groaned heavily, grabbing her backpack and shoving what she needed inside, her headphones and her drumsticks, her books and her pencils, shoving her phone in her pocket.

She glanced to mirror once more, staring at her hair, the messy blonde hair all over her face, she grabbed a hairband, tying it up in a high ponytail, allowing some strands out the front, revealing her eyebrow piercing. She put on some smudged eyeliner on her water liner with some mascara, before walking out her room, her backpack slung on one shoulder.

"Morning." A deep voice called out to her as she walked into the kitchen, seeing her dad standing there, cooking some bacon and scrambled eggs, toast on the side, wearing his police uniform, ready for work.

She put her bag down, nodding to him.

"Morning." She whispered, sitting down at the counter, scrolling through her phone, a bored look on her face.

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