The Tale of Abigail Winston | The Outsiders | [IN EDITING]

prologue | EDITED

To my inner self. May I wish I spoke my mind sometimes.

prologue

1:02pm
Now I know what your thinking... How can a sexy teenager have such an awesome personality in such a small body? I have been constantly questioning that in my head for a month now. I'm not going to lie to you, I'm incredibly up myself sometimes. What you do expect from me though? Perfect hair, abs, blonde hair, perfect nails and giant breasts? Well go watch a classic horror film. Because they'll always show a dumb blonde naked in a horror film. Pathetic. If there's one thing to know about me, Abigail Winston, is that I like being the opposite of people's expectations. Sometimes going on a high to put action in those words. Opposite of people's expectations.

3:43pm
Seventeen, dark hair, average size, mood swings, normal breast size and passionate in a career for boxing. Boxing is my life. The boys at my school always think I'm wired and just to show off because "girls are useless and it's totally wired and wrong for a girl to do a 'boy thing' in a girls world". What? It is a girls world. Living in the hot Arizona with my boyfriend Michael Jonathan Clark, what a total stud. I don't say hunk or stud, so what the hell. I repeated school numerous names I can't count them all. Suppose to be in college or something but I'm in year ten. I met Michael outside of school, can't remember where but I remember it was two years ago. I live with my auntie. Both my parents live in Tulsa I think, I don't know or care. And seeing that I care so much I live with my auntie, Cara. The closest to family people may say. Just the two us. Sometimes three if you count my stud of a boyfriend. No siblings. It's a blessing and a curse. Every now and then I keep a little note in my room to keep me thinking at random nights when I can't fall asleep.

Somethings I wonder if I had a sibling, a sister or a brother or both? But my life is crazy how it is and it doesn't need more pressure. I know that fir certain. My actual parents are neglectful and abusive. They wouldn't care if I've dropped dead on the streets, in a park, in a school shooting. They probably would even know the great news. Monsters ever since in the late eighties. I remember it like it was yesterday. Only because mum told me one out of a few nice words before she got drunk that late afternoon, it was one out of a few moments she was sober. Maybe even a little happy. Those few times when I was twelve I remember in 1997 mum told me she loved me, on October 16th, 2001 she told me she was proud of her daughter for standing up to those sexist pigs from a bunch of high schooler boys. In 1995 she gave me a hug and read me Peter Rabbit. I'm not sure that counts as being nice but it counted as being a good parent.

5:12pm
Those were the only good times in my childhood that I could remember. Everything was a black blur with dark times.