Trouble

Heathen

Avery's Point of View
"A heathen is a person who doesn't hold the same beliefs as the societal "norm." Beliefs can mean religious convictions, or more secularly, the shared mores of society"

I winced as the front door creaked open. So much for stealthy like a ninja, Ave.
"Avery Cameron Wilson!"
Oh, here we go. "Yes mother dearest?" I spun on my heels and flashed her a forced smile.

"Do you have any idea what time it is? It's 3 in the morning!"
I rolled my eyes, "So you weren't gonna let me answer the question, kinda defeats the purpose of asking it then mom."
Before she could respond I bounded up the stairs into my room, "What if the neighbors saw you coming home this late, what would they think!"

Oh right, I'm sorry. Why would I want to ruin our perfect image. 

We were known as That family. The one in the neighborhood who always held the events (when we were home), baked the best goods, and most importantly had the perfect image.

You see, here, everyone sees what my mother allows them to see. You don't get to know what happens behind closed doors. You won't ever get to know.

I always believed the song Dollhouse went great with our situation. I had so much love for Melanie Martinez and her music, it was so relatable and carefree.

Sighing, I jumped onto my bed and relaxed. I have about two hours until I need to get up and to sleep would just be teasing.

I slid my hand under the bed until I came in contact with my black sketchbook. I loved this thing. It helped when I felt alone, which was most of the time.

I grabbed my pencils and pens then got to work. 2 hours later my alarm clock started blaring Roman Holiday by Halsey. Blowing the hair out of my eyes I ran to the bathroom to shower and get ready.

Shower? Check. I opened the curtain and stepped out,
"Shit!" I exclaimed as I fell onto the hard bathroom floor. Damn the slippery tiles. That's going to leave a bruise.

Rushing to my closet I pulled out a white tank top, black skirt and an oversized jean shirt.

Slipping my clothes and shoes on I grabbed my phone and bookbag before going downstairs. I stepped in the kitchen and looked around.

"Ah, by myself again I see."

I scoffed before leaving the house and running to my car.

Time for Hell.

* Trouble *

It was lunch time and I was walking in the field outside of the café near the courtyard, this was my everyday routine. My headphones were in, music blasting; it was a way to drown the world out.

Next thing I know, a soccer ball comes flying and hits me, my phone dropping out of my hand. "Fuck!"

I bend down to pick it up and look to see a black haired boy wearing a face of concern.
"Shiz, are you okay?" He held his hand out to me

Shiz? I cocked my head to the side, "why didn't you just say shit, and I'm fine." I grabbed his hand and got up.

"I don't curse."