Love is jealousy

Chapter 1 New School

"Welcome to Starstruck Academy!" The bright fake cheer of the receptionist was my welcome.

I shouldn't be surprised if she was threatened to death if she didn't sound like she was high on Heroine all the time.

That was my first thought as i carefully studied the receptionist's features and expression.

then her words struck me. 'Welcome to Starstruck academy'.

She just told welcome to Satan's Devilhouse. She was clearly human, like the rest of the girls at tending this academy. The way she carried herself gave it away. She was no predator of the night. No creation of the devil.

This school was famous for raising some of New York's finest women, this is where one is taught the art of high maintenance devil. Still a devil but a high maintenance devil.

Ever since vampires came into rule, things have changed drastically. Back then, before they took over, I wouldn't have had to look over my shoulder as I walked down the street; actually I would have. Just not with a wooden stake in my bag and daggers molded into my legs like lifelines... because that's what they were.

And I wouldn't have to fear every day may be my last.

If it wasn't for the vampires, this academy wouldn't have existed - Period.

This school was not just a place where we learned how to be the pinnacle of grace in high society, we were thrust into the heart of New York for a reason.

To find a vampire to court us.

It was practically a hunting ground. Quite ironic to be honest. You got what you grabbed. the school taught how to hunt, how to seduce with what you had and whether you hunted a rabbit or a lion was up to you. This wasn't just a school - it was a battlefield, a War.

It's funny how just a couple weeks ago I was living on the other side of the bridge in New Jersey and while home  wasn't far away, it was as if it was an ocean separating me from my family, not the Hudson River.

I could feel the wetness gather in my eyes as I remembered the reason why I came here; the bills were becoming to much to handle for my dad.

My mother, or should I say my egg donor more like, had taken out one too many loans from the banks to continue indulging in the high life. I remember waking up to the sound of her yelling at my dad, the same old song, the same lyrics falling out of her rouge painted lips.

This is all your fault!

Your too lazy and imbecilic to get a real job!

Except this time she actually left. I knew it was coming just not this soon. I had always been afraid of my mom because my dad wasn't always there to protect me when she got into one of her moods (which was often).

At first it wasn't that bad; she would just yell at me for not turning out like her, and it was true. I had blonde hair and lazuli blue eyes, honestly the only redeeming quality about my feature was that my hair was long and shiny because I never used curlers or the other stuff that my mom uses. This was a  light blonde but each strand seemed to have its own individual shade of blonde. It was all shades of blonde, from a dark to almost white and it reached almost all the way to my waist. I loved my hair. I was glad for it because honestly other than that I think that my features are rather dull. I had a natural tan and red lips but just no. I don't think I am beautiful at all.

I had a dark complexion but not so much so that anyone really notice it. In the winter it seemed paler in contrast to my red lips and my lazuli blue eyes and long thick eyelashes. My mother on the other hand is quite dark with short black hair and emerald green eyes and pink lips, her looks could fool you, they fooled my father thats for sure.

She looked like a porcelain doll that couldn't hurt a fly, but if anyone need the words looks are deceiving tattooed on her forehead: it was her. I remember he day I got the letter from Starstruck Academy saying that they wanted me to attend their elite private school for free, I just laughed when I read it. My mother on the other hand dragged me by the ear to her room and started to beat me into a pulp, whether it was because I was offered a position and not her previous daughter since she was refused, or because the banks had finally refused to give her a loan - I didn't know but it didn't scare me or hurt anymore. I was used to it. The pain didn't register anymore, even as the blows rained on me one after another.

She'd first done it when I was seven. One of her friends came over to have coffee with my mom and when I'd broken one of the important teacups, her hand came down on my face. Not a caress but a punishing blow.

My mother was an porcelain doll who wouldn't hurt a fly to the eyes of the outside world, she put a great act to go with the looks. It was when my mother's friend complimented my looks and suggested that I would grow up to be even more beautiful than my mother that something inside her snapped. I knew she never liked me from the start. She made it very clear as soon as I could understand anything. Back then though I tried my best to make her like me, it never worked, after her friend left, she kick me and punched me around, smiling as though seeing me in pain brought joy to her. 

Soon it became a regular thing, a mother bonding session between us. It became hard to hide all the bruises she gave me and people were becoming suspicious of my constant excuses of being clumsy. So then I started wearing long sleeved t-shirts and jeans to cover my bruises, which was fine by me since I never liked showing to much skin.

But when she left, my dad blamed everything on me. Her leaving, the bills, everything. But the day I was leaving for the school and waiting for the school car, I packed everything and left but not before noticing the note that was left on the kitchen table.

Im gone.

Two words but I felt nothing more than relief. I stuffed my suitcases into the trunk and got into the car and we left for Starstruck Academy.