Chapter 3 [Cleo]

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A/N: Dedicated to pseudowriter08 for the very first comment and vote! Thank you for your support! Go check out her story called 'Candy', everyone! (More dedication coming ^^)

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I woke up with a burnt smell flowing in the tip of my nose. When I twitch my eyes open, the resist to close them back and get back to sleep flows into me. But that smell. It engulfed my appetite to sleep and I slump my body horrifically to get up.

Nothing compared to the burnt smell was more horrifying except the ugly mess I have made. One look at my bed, and all I see is a nice big trash bin to sleep on. My jeans feels like wood hanging off my feat, realizing that I had no time to change or do anything else when I rushed back at home last night. Just laid down and slept like a lazy bear.

This unexpected morning turns into some kind of bizarre gross hurricane, I could even feel it in my sticky sweats and damp hair. I've replayed a few organized schedule to set things cleaner than having to see the reality turn into this.

With the stench of the odor grimacing my concerns, there's no choice but to clean it all off with cold freezing water in the early chill of the day. After the quick shower, I slip into a loose blue skirt that went down to my knees. It's thin, warm texture covered most of my feet, and for my luck, the fabric isn't some pervert tight skin clothing most people would prefer at school. No boys will ever goggle over my tights in their wildest dream.

Inside my mirror's real thoughts, I've found myself jumping in mine too distracted. In the reflection, my gaze traveled to my arm after one second to the other. I roll the sleeve on my right hand, the hair on my neck rises and the distance that had me wrecking nervous is closer than I imagined. My thoughts are twisted in grimace and disgust once again. For any normal people living out there, they'd wake up every morning, take a quick wash in their bathroom, and move on quite well afterwards for their next activity. Well, that was them.

I run my fingers slowly against the bloody scars marked on my right arm, still dark, moist, and gross. I'd do anything remove it all out. Out of my visions. Out of this world. And it's a small world after all, right?

Even for sure that the small scratches is easing off quite well, the deep cuts starts to bleed ever so slowly. Before anything starts to hurt, I grab the bandage and roll it carefully around it, giving a little pinch to my arm, though not for too long. Lastly covering any hint of the white bandage with my worn sweater. I'd never live without this lucky sweater. 

"CLEO!! Wake up! It's morning, darling! Get ready for school!" Mom hollers from across the other side of our house.

Huffing, I use my sonic speed left out energy to consume as little time possible to throw textbooks and utensils in my backpack.

That's when I find myself starting to calm less over the morning I'm only getting ready. If the autumn wind isn't late for this season, then so shouldn't I for today's school. I'm not begging for any teacher to yell at my face, or worse: kill me on the inside.

My feet trotted and as I walk out, A wish tells me that if only I could teleport to any place in any time, life would be easier.

But false alarm. The bitter smell comes back again, causing my body to feel flipped out. All at once, the smell makes me feel wrong about waking up.

As I step closer into the kitchen, I swear what I'm seeing looks unreal. A giant cloud of ash whooshes from the kitchen and I jump back in terror. The whole room looks like it's vanishing and about to turn into a laboratory where only smoke lives in. My nose and mouth are stuffed with them.

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