Never

I glanced to the right and then to the left. My hair long hair was whipping my tired body as the frosty wind was freezing my skin. The sky was pouring little glass like drops of what is assume was now ice. I should have worn more clothes. I shouldn’t have even left. Who do I think I am? My name is Bell, short for Bella, which is short for Isabella. That is not the person I want to be, though. I looked down and caught a glimpse of my brown suede Arche ankle boots. They were hand crafted and made in France; my parents wouldn’t have it any other way. My dark blue Chanel denim jeans fit perfectly around my long thin legs which led to my stomach. I haven’t eaten since last night. I would have heard my stomach growl if it wasn’t for the thunder in the sky, the howling of the wind and the fast paced beating of my heart.