Crying in the Rain

Chapter 1

MIRANDA'S POV

'Love is a treasure that can never be paid, the only way to keep it is to give it away'

Honestly, that's shit. If you love someone why the hell would you let them go. I mean it doesn't make since.

'Yeah I'm gonna leave you because I love you so much,' seriously? If someone did that to me I just be like, are you fucking serious?

I got off my pathetic twin sized bed and walked over to my closet. This orphanage really needs to get some better stuff. The walls were gray, along with the floors. My room and all the other orphan kids room were complete shit. Our beds where small and it felt like I was sleeping on rocks. The closets were chipped and old. The...well, that's all we really have in our rooms.

I decide on a pair of distressed black skinny jeans, a lose black Black Veil Brides tank top, grey checkered Vans, and a black hoodie. I style my hair and straighten it.

I was a little emo. I was thinking about dyeing my hair but decided against it, maybe another time. I wore dark clothing and I've cut a few times. I wear eyeliner all around my eye and black mascara. I have snake-bites on the left side of my lip and multiple piercings around my ears. I hung out with my group of friends. We all were kinda emo but we didn't do all the creepy looks and drugs. No, we just kinda kept to ourselves and in public acted all loner like. When we were together, just us five we all smiled and laughed. We were our own little group and I liked it. We all did. P

After I was finished I pulled up my hoodie and grabbed my black Jansport backpack. I went to Marks room and helped him with his stuff, "You ready?" I ask.

"Yeah," he whispers. He was bullied at school. I never knew that eighth graders could be so mean. I didn't know that being gay was bad. Nothing wrong with it. I left my room and walked out of the orphanage, starting the walk to the school with Mark. I had a car but, just sometimes I felt in the mood for a walk in the nice California weather. I might be a little late, but who really gives a fuck?

I dropped him off at his school and hugged him tightly, giving the other students a cold glare.

Once I made it to my school I was a little surprised I wasn't late.

'Ding dong ding dong'

Oh, now I am. I remember when I had a family. I was seven and my mum died in a car accident. At eight my father died and I didn't understand what had happened till I was ten. He was killed from two gun shots. After my mum died he kinda, how do you say it, lost it a little. Apparently he got into something with some guys and hell happened. My brother disappeared about two years ago when I was a freshman. I don't know why. Just one day I woke up and he was gone. Left a note saying:

I'm sorry. I have to leave. I live you so very much and I know I'll see you soon.

I open the door to my language arts class and suddenly all eyes are in me.

"Why are you late?" The teacher, Mr. McMiller asked. He was a kind old man. Didn't give detention. Always says 'this is a warning.'

I don't answer him, just looked down at my feet.

He sighs, "This is a warning. Don't be late again," I'll be late tomorrow.

I nod my head before shuffling my way over to my desk, in the back of the class. His class was never hard, I had all As. He carried on talking and at the end of the class he handed out worksheets for us to do.

It was...double sided. Of course. Once the students figured it out they groaned loudly. It was also Friday.

"Oh, come on. It isn't that bad," Mr. McMiller laughed.