Unnaturally Beautiful (Soundwave x Reader)

¡Prologue!

"(Y/n)," your mother starts, her words already dulling by the second. "You look beautiful."

"Do I?" You recoil, spinning around with a face full of disbelief.

Your slim, slender fingers run across the scars that went from your left temple all the way down to your lower chin. It was all a lie. Your whole family kept trying to convince you that you looked absolutely gorgeous, stunning anyone that came across your path. They can say one thing but strangers say another.

All the scars remind you of is the traumatic past that you had to endure.

"You do. Why can't we convince you of this? Just because you have a few markings doesn't mean you're not lovely." Your mother runs her soft fingertips over your damaged skin.

A gritty chuckle forces past the cracks of your clenched teeth as your shoulders bouncing like you were about to burst into uncontrollable laughter. The warm, caring eyes of your parent become wide with uncertainty.

"You should have told that to him." You spit out, lugging your backpack over your shoulder as you head for the front door.

Before you set a foot outside of the door, guilt consumes you whole. Your hand lets go of the door handle and you crane your head back to see your mother, who you usually called Marry, standing there with a hand over her mouth. Your hardened eyes blink slowly, taking in her uncomfortable posture.

"I'm sorry, Marry," you apologize, open the door, and step outside to catch the bus before she could accept your apology.

•••

You step off of the bus and shuffle around the people who got in your way, just trying to get inside of the building. Your earbuds played soft music into your ears to drown out the gasps of shock or the gut wrenching comments from cruel teens. Eyes lifeless and evil scan the full school hallway as your converse covered feet clack against the rough tile of the floor. When you reach your locker, you put in the code and open up the creaky door. A few exchanging of different books here and there, you close your locker door and continue to your classroom in complete silence.

You walk into the full classroom and all eyes are cast in your direction. Quietly scoffing to yourself, you take a seat in your desk and drop your backpack to your feet. You pluck the earbuds from your ears and shove them inside your back pocket.

"Hey, (Y/n), did you put any lotion on this morning? Looks like you need it." A voice that belonged to a male cackles at you.

You lift your eyes to see one of the school bullies smirking proudly at you, his lips curled into a suffocating grin. With a purse of your lips, you're quick to lift a hand and flip him off with little emotion. A girl with pink dyed hair across the room laughs but quickly covers her mouth.

"Hey, Blake, did you know that you should fu-" you're cut off by the Teacher, Mrs. Campbell, walking into the room.

He winks at you before turning around to pay attention to the thirty year old teacher he was crushing on. All the other students give you skeptical glares before turning their attention as well. The girl sends you a bright smile and goes to pay attention to her phone.

As far as everything goes, this was pretty normal. Another day being picked on. At least someone found you somewhat tolerable.

•••

School finally lets out and you breathe a sigh of relief, rushing down the hallway in full on sprint. You shove a few people out of the way and break through the doors with a cry of happiness.

"Freedom!" You exclaim, running down the sidewalk to your house.

It was okay riding the bus in the morning for the most part. It was at the end of the day when everyone becomes more than just vicious. It was probably because they knew that the day was coming to an end and they could get away with it. You lightly skip down the cracked sidewalk, humming to yourself with a made up tune. That is, until you hear the roar of a car behind you. Turning around, you see a red car stalking up to your side. The windows were tinted, so even if you wanted to see who was pulling up beside you, you couldn't. A feeling of pure uneasiness creeps up your arms in the form of goosebumps. Something was telling you to just run.