Chapter 2- Waking up

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Slowly my eyes start to open, all I see is blurriness. I blink 3 times and look around my room. All I see is pitch black . It's night. I look at my clock I've been asleep for 6 hours! My tummy starts to rumble like an earthquake. I quickly get changed into my PJs and head down the stairs to the kitchen, when I turn the  lights on my phone heart stops. Standing in front of the fridge in his boxers is no one other than Pete, my bully. Slowly he turns around and I see his beautifully sculpted abs glistening with sweat. 'He looks so good' wait what am I thinking he's my bully. "Enjoying the view?" he says smiling. "No. just wondering what your doing in my house at this time of night? Shouldn't you be home?" Suddenly his face drops " aw... you break my heart G" he laughs. I crinkle my face at him and whisper, "Do not ever call me that only my friends and family calls me that!. Shaking my head I proceed to walk up the stairs and he practically shouts "what? Friends? Family? Hahaha! You've got neither."
Once again tears pool from my eyes, everyone teases me and my brother about being adopted but no one knows who our real mother is. Only my 'Mum' 'Dad' and my 'brother' know. If people knew who she really was I would be popular. I keep it hidden because I don't want to be popular for the money I have or for the parents I have. The truth is my Mother is Jenny Wattson, the famous super model and my dad is Jack Slumbie, the millionaire. Most people think my parents didn't want me because I'm so ugly but that's not true my parents did want me but they wanted me to live with the Blacks, because they're doctors and I'm sick. Very sick. When I was 15 years old I was told I didn't have much longer left to live. Now I'm I have about one year. At school I get bullied and teased because I'm so skinny but that's because of my medication I take.
THE NEXT DAY

I woke up with a fever and felt really dizzy so I decided to stay home. While I was watching tv I went to go get food when my legs gave way and I crashed my head on the counter.

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