Venom (Completed) ✔

Strange Day

My name is Mandy. Mandy Sciara. I live in Atlanta's most unknown and seemingly avoided town: Delzyle. I'm not part of those noisy, wannabe famous bullies in our class. They really make me want to go straight towards them, giving them a good old 'wake up' kind of punch in the face. The truth however is that I don't have the balls to do this; maybe that's for the best. But I digress, so I'll continue again before you get bored.

Let me help you visualize more or less how I look and what kind of person I am. My hair's wavy and light golden brown, I have almond shaped light blue eyes and my skin is 'as white as a jug of milk". Well, maybe not that white, but some people like to make that joke. Anyhow, black skinny jeans combined with an oversized t-shirt or sweater makes me feel more comfortable to be in and to finish my summary: I love to wither away in thoughts. With my sixteen years old age, I assume to have a whole life in front of me. And then about my parents.. Well. Let's just say they're literally and figuratively not really there for me.

* * *

The uncomfortable feeling of a wet tongue in my face wakes me up as I'm lying nuzzled in my king-sized bed. I immediately realize it's my boxer dog, Chica, who is – as always - waking me up, happily wagging her tail and being.. a dog. She means well, but I prefer to wash my face with tapwater.

"Yes, I know. I'm awake already." I mutter with my 'beautiful' croaky-morning voice.

I sit up, stretch and get out of bed with the little shred of energy I have left, knowing it's the beginning of the week again; Monday. Cheers. While standing in front of the sink which is located in my bedroom, I look in the mirror. Some nice slit, tired pair eyes look back at me.

"Another Monday at school..." I sigh, wishing I could jump back into bed with the still warm blankets enveloping me. Instead here I am, standing in my pj's, preparing for school.

I open up the tap and wait a moment for the warm water to come gushing out. I grab the red washcloth from the sink and wet it to wash my face. After the usual freshing up – not having applied any make-up but a little mascara -, I head down the stairs, scraping my hair back into a sloppy pony-tail. Chica is cheerfully walking down after me. "Good doggo" I whisper, turning around a bit, patting her head. "Shoot!" I squeack, trying to find my balance again after I realized I have missed the last step of the stairs. "Well.." I mumble. "At least I'm awake now"

* * *

Sitting in the schoolbus, listening to music and daydreaming while looking outside to the view isn't something I do reluctantly. On the contrary, it's something I look forward to when I wake up; it has something relaxing to it. For some reason though, I can't indulge in the zen feeling this time; maybe I'm still a bit tensed from my clumsiness this morning.

While shortly letting my eyes wander around through the bus, a girl sitting a few seats away from me catches my attention. A bandage is wrapped around her right upper arm and the same arm is covered with bruises that stand out because of her light skincolor. She's wearing a tank-top and a scarf around her neck. Why the scarf though? If you're cold, why not wear something warmer in general. I idly gaze at her from the back, imagining what could have happened that caused all these bruises.

I imagine seeing her being an only child, coming home from school, cleaning up the house after which she cooks dinner for her and her dad who has lost his wife. For him this loss was too much to handle so he started abusing alcohol and reflected the misery in his life on his daughter who barely could do something good in his eyes. She hides her own problems because she knows if she'd tell him, he'd tell her that his problems are way worse so she needs to man up. From time to time she feels the need to call out his alcohol abuse. This is when he feels confronted with something he does not want to face. He would grab her upper arm tight en throw her to the floor wheras he'd tell her: "A son would've understand."