Where The Wild Things Are

Chapter 1

There is a moment in life when everything bad turns better. When all your demons disappear, if only for a minute. The moment when stars align and nothing can stop you. My moment came the day I met him.
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There are shadows everywhere. Black crawling shadows scattered throughout the doorless room. There is a dark so dense I can't see my hand as I hold it in front of my face. Suddenly the walls start to move closer. I feel my pulse quicken, and my breathing gets shallow. I try to scream for help, but my lips won't move. The walls stop uncomfortably close to me, about an inch from my face. I look up to a ceiling nearly touching my head. By this point I am hyperventilating, my hands shake with anxiety. I hear a voice, his voice, screaming at me. "You deserve this!" The voice begins to chant my name, reverberating around the small room. "Stella....Stella....Stella!" Slowly growing louder. "STELLA! GET UP NOW!" I jolt awake, still sweating and shaking from my nightmare. Hurriedly I rush to get showered and dressed. I head out of my room and begin to make breakfast for my father and myself. Then he walks into the room, the man who haunts my dreams, my father. As I set the plates on the table we begin to eat, not a word exchanged. After we have both finished I take the plates to the sink and begin to wash them, admiring the roses carved into their edges. As I clean the dishes my father begins to talk to me. "So Stells", he says cheerily, "Are you ready for your first day of shophmore year?" I pause for a moment, trying to decide if this is a trick question that could lead to punishment. I decide to answer honestly. "Very much so, father." He responds, still seemingly calm, "Thats good. I remember how awful school can be." "It's better than being home", I mutter. "What was that?", my father says sounding agitated. "You know I despise it when you don't speak up!" "I-I , I said its b-b-better than being home, s-sir", I reply with a stutter. Instantly my father rises from his chair, knocking it over in the process, and comes over to me, forcing my back into the edge of the counter. He stares into my eyes, anger apparent on his weathered face. He raises his hand and I close my eyes. The next thing I know I an on the ground, a hand pressed on my newly reddened cheek. I crawl backwards in fear as my father advances to me. He says, with his darkest tone, the one that makes my hairs stand up on my head in fear, "Don't you ever complain to me about our home again! If you do, you'll get worse than a sore cheek!" He then stormed out of the house, and into the car, and pulls away to go to work. A few minutes later I follow his path, and go out the door, locking it on my way. I quickly run to catch the school bus. As soon as I sit down in my seat, I turn on my music, put my headphones in, and zone out the rest of my trip to school.
The bus arrives at my highschool, I slowly follow the procession of other kids off of the school bus, and head towards my locker. I get to my locker and exchange my backpack for my English books, as it is my first class. I go to my class, walk in, consult the seating chart the teacher has on the front table, and take my seat, watching the door for my friend Isobell. The door swings open, instantly my eyes are locked with the most gorgeous face I have ever seen in my life. He is smiling, creating deep dimples in his cheeks, His teeth are white as snow and his dark hair is perfectly messy, and his sweet brown eyes stare back at me. A blush tinges my cheeks as I look to the ground. Suddenly I feel a hand on my chin pulling my face up. As my eyes lock with the boy again he says only one thing, "Mate!"