Different

CH. 1 Hi I'm Annika Ralston

Every girl wants a fairy tale ending. Every girl is waiting for their prince charming to come and swoop them off their feet. But I'm not every girl. Nobody knows exactly who I am, nobody seems to care. I'm just another faceless girl walking the streets, living my life. Sure I get a few glances and a few stares here and there but that's society for you. In our society if you appear to be different, anything but normal you get those looks, those looks let you know that you're different and different isn't wanted.

My parents are gone, dead. My dad was a nice man. His family always lived in America but when he was in the military he was deployed to Japan where he met my mother and brought her home. I was only 16 and a half at the time, honestly I don't really know how they died. The cops said it was a bad night for them and my father lost control behind the wheel, they hinted at the fact that he might have been drunk. I don't even remember why my parents had been out driving, all I remember were the cops coming to my old homes' door. Personally I know my dad wouldn't have lost control, he wasn't much of a drinker, but the police never contacted me that day. My family didn't keep close contact with our other family members so the death of my parents was a shock. My aunt Miranda, my fathers sister never married but was a successful writer in New York came to town to direct the funeral and all but we barely talked, I didn't even recognize most of the people at the funeral. My parents had a close family friend Ross Lysnader, he owned several different properties and I had no clue how he really knew my parents but I remember him being around since I was young.

Ross helped me a lot through my parents death, I had already been working my job at the local coffee shop since I had turned 14, trying to save up for a car. But the car didn't matter at that point since I inherited my fathers beast of an old car. After my parents death I didn't feel comfortable with the thought of living with anybody else, nor did I want to live in a house with too many fond memories of my parents. So being the stubborn girl I was, I made a deal with Ross, he saved an apartment for him and I paid him the normal amount I just never had to see a lease.. The money I had was enough for the apartment, and my parents left me a lot of money so I was ready.

Since then I've had no one but myself. Moving into the apartment was hard, I had to go through all my belongings and take only what I felt was mine, I had taken my clothes and dresser of course, a T.V., my Xbox , only a few family photos, my mom's jewelry for extra cash, I kept the skull necklace my dad got her. I kept one of her kimonos, she hadn't taught me much about her culture but she did teach me Japanese. I cleared out a lot of things in a small amount of time, including my mattress and blankets. Two years after my parents death I'm 18 and out of high school, which was basically my living hell. I took the easy way out and got my GED so I could work full time at the coffee shop. I feel like that makes me different, and of course I'm already different so what's a little more to add to the list. I like the thought that the only reason I get stared at is because people like to judge others, even without even knowing half of their stories, and just the thought of me being the only one to think this way makes me different.

Today started like any other day, me getting out of bed and lazily making my way to the bathroom connected to my room and fumbling for the light switch. I've never really cared what I looked like. I rarely ever look at myself but today I felt a slightly different way. My mirror sits above my bathroom sink, a few smudges here and there but other than that it's clean. My reflection shows my inky black hair, I picked random strands dyed a dark blue falling below my shoulders. I used to have bangs but they grew out and now depending how I feel I cover either my right or left eye, just like it's a curtain closing the window so no one can look in. My face looks bored, and my eyes....my father used to say a person could get lost in them, so much wonder and discovery just like the depths of the ocean. My skin looks like porcelain with a faint hue of pink, I always wear one of my fathers old oversized TOOL shirts, they are the only thing that never brings me to tears. "Wings of Marie" really helped me through the death of my parents as well, music has always been a great bandage. I analyze my arms, just above my wrist there are my scars, they may make other people turn away and judge me, but they make me happy. It reminds me that everyone bleeds, they aren't my only scars. I have a fresh row on my thigh because I messed up and I felt as if I was in a stupor everything was unreal, sometimes seeing that I bleed is the only way I know that I am alive. With a slight smile I wash my face and brush my teeth, I look at the mirror one last time and leave the bathroom shutting off the light.

I make my way back to my room and open my closet door, I grab one of the long sleeve dress shirts hanging without even turning on the light. And throw it on my bed, the comforter has black and white plaid, and is thrown back to show the plain white sheets. I turn to my dresser which to my dismay is pink, I don't hate to color it's just not me. I open the top drawer and pull out a white t-shirt, and then I reach into the second drawer to pull out a pair of black pants, I change my clothes as slow as I can, making sure to draw out the time. I grab my pack of cigarettes off my dresser before I walk out of my bedroom. I scan my living room, I have a couch and a small table with a glass top. And in front of it is the T.V. stand, a normal living room setup. And to separate my living room from my kitchen is a white bar, with two bar stools. Even though I don't have anyone I can still hope that I'll find someone.

I pull open my balcony door and plop down in the plain old fold out chair, I light my cigarette and look down at the floor. My life has been at a steady pace, after I pushed through highschool most of my time is spent at work. I don't plan to go to college, I just spend my free time watching TV or playing some game, I haven't really made friends. I occasionally hang out with Ross but he is always so busy. I keep my mind busy with a constant pace of thoughts and before I even knew it I had finished my cigarette. I mush the butt into the black astray on the ground and walked back inside. As I walk into the kitchen I check the time on the microwave, 8:40, Shit I'm going to be late.

I rush to my room to grab my phone, and as I walk back out I grab my keys off the bar, and water out of the fridge. Locking my door as I leave, I rush down the stairs. I live on the second floor so no time to waste taking the elevator. Once I'm on the ground floor, I make my way out of the parking garage, which you have to waste money on to get a spot. Once I'm out of the garage the sun blinds me but only for a second. I look around for my car, it's my dad 67 Chevy Impala, a beast of a car and it's as loud as a motherfucker but it makes me feel so different, I spot it a few spaces from where I was standing. I rush to the car, unlock the door and start the beast, the rumbling of the engine always gives me goose-bumps. Shaking off the feeling I pull out the space and make my way to the coffee shop, ready to begin another day, of my different life.