I'm Only Human

Huh? I'm Only Human

A.N: this is my first story I've ever posted anywhere, so please feel free to criticize (politely.)

All rights reserved.

*Warning: this is not a erotic story, this is not love at first sight, this is not even a story for romantically inclined people. Until the very end, your going to be very pissed . . . I was.

Being the person I am, I know that I'm not the best, I know that I'm never going to be somebody's "the one," I know that I'm not going to be there all the time, I know that I'm not the same as everyone else, I know that I'm never going to be picked first. I know, it's okay, because I grew up with this knowledge, I'm not bitter, or mean, I'm used to it.

After all, I'm human.

I'm not perfect.

Nobody is.

"Emmaline, move your ass. I'm not going to jail for your sorry ass." That's my dad, he must be drunk again, considering how it's two in the morning. But he's drunk all the time.

Still, groaning, I picked up my clothes and headed to the bathroom. Setting the timer for five minutes, I quickly washed myself.

And as the alarm rang the crash of the bathroom door breaking open, freezes me.

Not again.

I feel the rough, blistering hands of my dad grab me. "You're mine, bitch. Best remember that."

Then, I fell into the nothingness.

Great! It was raining. First my dad, and now this. I'm going to smell like the ocean when I get to school.

I can't drive, my dad says so.

So, I walk. I walk the whole seventeen miles to school. Hey, it's good exercise. When I get there, the rain stops, and I'm soaking wet.

Used to it, I walk in the office, and ask for my schedule.

Something I couldn't get before hand, as I was busy the day we were supposed to.

"Name?" the assistant asks, knowing why I was wet, having been the reason for ten c.p.s. visits.

Although she should have memorized my name after eleven years worth of school, I repeated,"Emmaline Robert."

Through narrow eyes, Mrs. Marcs asked, "Are you okay?" I nodded, and stuck my hand out for the paper that would give me a locker for the year, and my classes for the semester.

She tried to make eye contact, "If you ever need anything, please, I'm here for you."

I didn't want to tell her to shove her offer up her ass, couldn't, so I just nodded.

Finally, after to long of a pause, she placed the paper in my hand, and I almost ran out of the room, knocking into another person.

Falling flat on my ass, pressing the bruises my dad recently gave me, I humphed as the breath escaped me.

"I'm sorry. Are you OK?" a deep male voice asked, concerned for the fact I didn't move.

Couldn't at the moment, the pain was excruciating, running though every nerve in my bruised, sore body.

A silent tear ran down my cheek, and he reached his hand into my view, trying to give me help up. Which would make me stretch more.

I whimpered, and curled into a ball. Activating the rest of the bruise on my back, and the ones on my calves, not a good alternative. "Don't touch me, please, leave me alone."