Loving The Reject

Chapter 1: Boy Next Door

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Misty

Names Misty. I'm an 18 year old nobody that wears band shirts, black and cuts on my arm like accessories. Of course everybody sees me as a freak. Its only my mom and I. Dad died 9 years ago in an drunken car accident. Dad being the one under the influence of course. If that wasn't bad enough his irresponsibility killed 3 other people and left 1 severely injured. A mom and her 2 sons. Other than that my life is pretty normal.....Not!

Normal is far from what I'd call my life or myself for a matter of fact. The truth is I'm a very messed up kid. Like Oli said and I quote. 'How can you fix me if I'm part of the problem.' 

After dad died when I was 9 mom moved us from New York to Chicago. Ever since then I've gone down hill. Not only did the sweet little girl I used to be die, all self esteem I had died with it. Music became my safe heaven and I found solitude in bands. I started wearing black, eye lining my eyes in the color, and cutting my skin like paper. And yes I know. Cutting isn't the best coping skill. But it feels like the only thing I have control of. Load of bs right?

Anyway, we moved into a small cream house when we got to Chicago. Its not much. Mom did her best to make it all cozy. You see. I love my mom around the world and back. We share the same pair of striking crystal blue eyes and pale skin. Other than that the similarities stop there. Mom could easily pick up any man she wanted in a heart beat. With her flawless complexion, full plump lips and flowing brown her. Not to mention her hourglass figure that never fails to make men stare. Admirers seem to always be piling by the door hoping my mom would give them the time of day. I must say however, that I do a pretty good job of scaring them off. If I do say so myself. The door opening to a scowling teen dressed in black isn't exactly what any of mom admires have in mind.

As of right now I'm currently sulking on my bed. Why may I be sulking you ask. Well today ends my summer vacation and starts the hell hole known as High School. I am proud to say I've survived 3 years of the torture establishment and am in my final year.

Well barley survived that is. My appearance and personality hasn't actually enabled me to make friends with my fellow students. Surprise. Surprise.

During my 3 years of High School I tended to stick close to the walls and lockers. Blending and going unnoticed, well trying to for the most. There's always those group of kids who make fun of me no matter how much I wish to be invisible. Constantly getting things thrown at you and being made fun of doesn't make for an awesome High School experience.

I groaned out loudly. Rolling my eyes at the ceiling I flipped over from my current position on my bed. Thinking about School tomorrow is putting me in a sour mood and to relax I connected my speakers and blasted through my playlist playing It Was Written In Blood by BMTH on blast.

Somewhere half through Pain from OM&M I heard my name being called from the sweet voice that could only belong to my my mom. She sounded like she was somewhere downstairs.

I really hope she isn't just calling me down to watch her dance around in a towel or help her find something that's right in front her face. Both she's done on multiple occasions.

Adjusting the bands on my hand that rode up my arm I get off my bed and made my down stairs.

"The only time she ever comes down is when there a fresh bacth of cookies in the oven." I heard my mom say as she chuckled nervously. Wait nervously? Since when is my mom nervous about anything.

Making my way around the corner I'm faced with three very wrong things. 1. There were strangers in my house. 2. One of those strangers was making my mom laugh her cheeks tainted with a soft blush. 3. There were eating the batch of chocolate chip cookies my mother was making for me. My fūcking cookies!!!

They were seated in the beige furniture around the brightly colored living room mom was especially proud of. She hung up most of our pictures around the house but the living room held more of the precious ones. Like dad pushing me on a old swings set or a family photo with mom, dad and me with big toothy grins plastered on our faces our eyes sparkling.

The strangers consisted of two people. A boy who looked old enough to be the same age as me perhaps older. And a man who looked to be his father. The boy had short brown hair that he kept in a black beanie. A tan complexion and a pair of deep brown eyes. A strong jawline with defined cheeks. A thin upper lip and full bottom pulled into a thin line. He looked like he could be about '6,0'. Way taller then my height of '5.6'. He wore a light grey shirt the short sleeves and collaring being a darker shade of grey.

The man next to him looked to be 2 to 3 inches taller with the same tan complexion and deep brown eyes. His jawline was squared and sharp with thin lips formed into a smile. He wore a dark navy blue shirt that hugged his muscles snugly with loose fitting jeans. His hair was darker than the boys ,almost black, and was slightly messy. He had morning stubbles that he apparently didn't shave of but it suited him. I had to admit he was good looking. No wonder mom he had mom blushing. And his hearty laugh didn't help her case.

Seeing as they hadn't noticed me yet I turned around attempting to escape back into the safety of my room. But of course life doesn't work in my favor and my mother caught me.

"Dear, this is Richard and his son Jackson. They've moved in to the pretty blue house next door."

My mother said turning to smile at me. By now all attention had shifted towards me as I stood there in all my awkwardness feeling extremely uncomfortable under there gaze.

"Um, Hi."

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So yea first chapter. I know its short but I pinkie promise that they will get longer. As for now what do you think. Pretty plz don't be afraid to comment. What can I do to get better?
Next chapter will be posted soon. Until next time.

P.s The picture above is how I imagine Misty.

~LovetheRejects