BATTLE SCARS
God I love rain.
Sitting in my window seat staring out at the stormy sky, that was all I could think.
It's the middle of spring, here in Michigan; and I am in love with this stormy weather. It reminds me of the nights when I was little, when the loud thunder claps would send me running to my mommy. But things change.
"Lacey, stop staring at the window and get your ass to school!" my 'dad' yelled at me. Ever since mom died, he's been unbearable. I turned and saw my reflection in the floor length mirror.
Black converse sneakers, white skinny jeans, black cami under a white tank that read 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.'. Unusually tan skin, naturally straight brown hair, Amber eyes, high cheekbones, button nose, plump lips. I was invisible. I looked closer at my face. Black winged eyeliner, mascaraed lashes, slight dusting of freckles.
I grabbed my black messenger bag, and slung it over my arm. I was about to walk downstairs, but turned around and grabbed my black hoodie.
I stomped down the stairs, and into the kitchen. grabbing an apple, I walked to the garage. Slipping the keys to my jeep over my finger, I opened the door.
Whelp, I thought to myself, here we are again on a fine morning heading to the hell hole they oh so smartly named school. I hopped in my jeep, and drove the 5 miles to 'the prison'.
YOU ARE READING
BATTLE SCARS
WerewolfEverybody has their own set of battle scars. Mine are the kind that don't go away. I lost my mom when I was little, and my brother left for College when I was 12. So now it's just me, my dad, and Briscoe our German Shepard. I'm now 16,and my life is...