Love Me Anyway (A student-teacher relationship)

Chapter One

Oh, what is wrong with me?!?!?! Another new story? Unfortunately. I wasn't planning on uploading it, but I found the perfect picture and made it into my cover, so, now, I can't resist. I have very little self-control....

I'll try to get a description written up sometime soon, but, until then, it's a blind shot for all who read it.

Picture of Cynthia (but her bangs are black and over her eyes)

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High school. Senior year. I could just smell the freedom in the air. And yet, I still had to sit through another year of dreadfully boring classes.

My feelings of euphoria left just like that.

Face it. Sure, I was a senior now, but I still had to go through another year of school. Another horrible year of horrible school. It being my last wouldn't make it any more bearable.

In fact, so far, it sucked.

My alarm was blaring at five in the morning, trying to rouse me after months of sleeping in. My head was pounding from the party I attended the night before. My limbs were stiff and heavy, and the last thing I wanted to do was move.

I did the impossible though, and dragged myself up, pounding the little off button on my alarm ruthlessly. Growling under my breath, I moped to the bathroom. I groaned at my hopeless reflection, squinting at the bright reflected light. My hair, which was similar in color to sand - boring sand - was piled in a mess of frizz on the top of my head. My deep brown eyes were circled with heavy black shadows. My eyes themselves were dull and groggy.

There was no hope.

I stepped into the shower, wanting nothing more than to go back to bed and never have to open my eyes again.

When I stepped out, I was slightly more presentable. My hair was dripping down my back and would hopefully dry without too much frizz. My skin looked healthier, having gained some color - still shockingly pale of course. My eyes had regained some of their spark.

At least I didn't look like a stoned zombie any more. I definitely made an improvement.

I dressed in a random something - black. I pulled on a random hoodie - black. And, or course, my ever reliable converse - black. I put on my excessive amounts of eyeliner under and over each eye, redundant considering the shadows already there. I pulled my bangles up my arms and set out to face the music.

"There you are!" me step-mother screeched.

"Here I am," I muttered.

"Cynthia," she scolded, "What happened to those nice, pretty clothes I bought you?"

"They were skirts, Shianne," I sighed, pulling the sleeves on my hoodie lower over my hands. "And pink."

"Yes darling, but they were so much better that what you usually wear!" I resisted to urge to clutch at my temples as her grating voice raked against my ear drums.

"Whatever Shianne," I mumbled, grabbing some toast off the counter and shoving it in my mouth.

"Don't mumble, sweetie, it's not lady-like."

"Lady-like my ass," mumbled, were my parting words. Grabbing my bag, I left.

And so goes my morning routine.

Basically the same. Get up unwillingly - get ready unwillingly - leave room unwillingly - face Shianne and her constant judgment and want to change me unwillingly - leave completely willingly.

I walked down the road a little ways, so Shianne couldn't come out and harass me. She would probably go after my hair next. Too frizzy for the perfect lady. I stood on the corner, waiting for my ride.

It was late.

"Sophia!" I called when her beat up red car turned into sight.

"Sin!" She called back, sticking her head out the window and waving frantically. "Why are you waiting out here?" she asked.

"Shianne," I answered simply, stepping into the car.

"Poor, poor Sin." Sin, my nickname, short for Cynthia, was well adapted. I was famed for getting into trouble of all degrees. And, of course, there were the other many, many bad things I did where I just didn't get caught.

"She's not that bad," I said shrugging. "It's not like she beats me or anything, like Dad used to. She really does love me. In her own way, I guess. She just want a daughter and doesn't seem to realize that I can't be that for her."

But I want her to love me. I want her to love me anyway. I want someone to love me. Those were the thoughts left unspoken.

"Well, you're awesome, even if you're not really giryl," Sophia said. I nodded my head along with her as if I agreed.

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Terribly short chapter. Not even 1,000 words. Forgive me! I just really wanted to get it up here.