What Doesn't Kill You

~ prologue ~

School sucks. I mean really, really sucks. 

Granted, I hadn't gone for the last three years, but you have to wake up early for school.

Which means alarms. I hate alarms too. They wake you up, even if it's from a really, really good dream. A brilliant dream.

The alarm plays, then you wake up and you forget the really great dream and you can't remember it.

Alarms were made by the devil, I'm sure. Who else would make the evil device that tortures us awake?

Schools don't care if you don't want to wake up. They don't care about your dream that it woke you up from. Or how much torture and pain it puts you through.

They only ever care about grades and their reputation. 

My alarm rudely woke me up as I blindly tossed back the covers and reached for the devil-spawned alarm clock. When I made contact with it, I launched it back into the murky corners of hell, known as my bedroom.

If you couldn't tell, I'm not a morning person. I hate everything about them. The sun, waking up early, alarms and school. 

Hell seemed to absorb my alarm clock as it finally shut up. I reluctantly pulled myself out of the bed and stretched whilst yawning. 

Groaning, I headed into my ensuite bathroom and climbed into the shower. My legs trembled slightly from the pain in my muscles, I was thankful for the shower seat in my bathtub. Or I would have fallen flat on my face.

With slightly shaking hands I turned on the hot water and held the shower head over my body, wincing at the heat on my freezing limbs. 

I massaged shampoo and conditioner into my hair, and brushed it through until it was silky. The soapy suds flew down my skin as the water washed them away.

The smell of cherries lingered in the air from my shampoo. I lathered the flannel with my cherry body wash and slid it over my cold skin. Bubbles coated my body as the water carried them away and down the drain.

Once I had gotten rid of all of the bubbles and soap suds, I carefully climbed out of the bath and wrapped myself in a soft, warm towel.

My teeth chattered slightly as goosebumps coated my skin. I pulled on my fluffy socks and my underwear and stood infront of my mirror.

A feeling of sadness washed over me as I took in my appearance. I was pale, my hair was thin and limp, I still hadn't gained any weight so I was still skinny and my eyes were swaddled in black bags.

For me, it was normal to look like death, due to my illness... I got sick when I was nine and I got better at sixteen but my body still didn't look healthy. 

My light brown hair reached just to my shoulders, it had started growing back about a year ago but it was agonizingly slow.

I browsed through the clothing options in my closet, deciding on what impression I wanted to make on my first day. Nerves filled my small body, I was scared. I hadn't been to school in years, because of my illness. My parents and my doctor thought I was too frail and weak and we couldn't risk any infections.