Dirty Words.

Chapter 4 - The Last Girl.

I awoke on Monday, depressed tired and worried.

Worried about what lay ahead of me, worried about life, school, my mom, my friends.

I worried a lot.

I would worry about having nothing to worry about, I guess its some sort of disease. It takes over me, affects the things I need to do, stops me from sleeping properly at night.

I never talk about it; maybe that’s why it affects me so much.

I lay in my bed thinking, always thinking.

I eventually gathered up enough willpower to pull myself from the safety of my soft comfortable covers and journey to the bathroom to clean myself up.

After showering, I put my hair into a messy bun, and applied some makeup, covering up those awful bags under my eyes. Of course, the result in worrying so much.

I chose a purple jumper with some dark blue skinny jeans, and black flats.

Just as I was grabbing my bag, did my mom walk in.

She looked beautiful, as always.

Her blonde hair was pinned back with clips and she was wearing a black pencil skirt with a crisp white shirt.

“Hello darling, what’s the occasion?” She asked, glancing at my outfit before diving into my make up bag, looking for something.

A.K.A- the only reason she would come into my room.

“Uh… Oh yea I forgot to tell you… I uh signed up for the em… Slave Auction” I mumbled.

She looked up, straight at me, her eyes wide and her lips parted in pure shock.

“The Slave Auction?” Her eyes did that same goddamn twinkle like every time these people who love this whole thing say it.

It was beginning to piss me off.

“Yup.” I replied popping the ‘p’. I grabbed my bag, and was about to leave when my mother’s voice stopped me.

“Good luck sweetheart!”

I rolled my eyes; of course, she was only interested in her own fucking daughter when she was participating in some sort of prostitute event.

I walked down my driveway, and looked up at the blaring sun.

* * *

I felt slightly reassured about everything as I arrived at school, but as I entered, that feeling immediately changed.

Girls where swarming the hallways in vicious packs, applying layers of make up, brushing their hair, and some where even changing into other outfits, just in the middle of everyone.

That’s Stratford High for you folks.

As I passed the girl’s toilets, I could see millions of them, clambering to get a look at them in the mirror.

Today was going to be a tough day.

I ventured to the lunch hall, screams and shouts could be hear everywhere, since the girls of the school had decided to create World War Three.

I spotted Jess at a lunch table.

She looked up, “How come?”

I then went on to explain about my big mouth, as she sat and listened, wide eyed.

“If we were in any other situation, I would probably say ‘Well done! You tell those bitches.’ But in this case, you’re fucked.”

I nodded, “I am indeed.”