I Saved The Gangster

1|Senior Year|

"Bzzzz... Bzzzzz... Bzzzz..."

Mentally cursing, I jolted awake. Summer went by like a lightning. I got up from my bed and went straight to the bathroom.

I looked at myself and I looked like a witch. I bet everyone doesn't really look like sleeping beauty when they wake up. I held my brush and started my morning puzzle, detangling Cassidy's red hair.

Yes, my hair is red. Although I've colored it to make it look brownish, no one in my school has red hair, I hate school attention, so much. I brushed my teeth, hopped in the shower and prayed that today would be a normal day.

Today is the first day of my senior year. Honestly, I don't give a damn about school anymore, not that I ever did.

I dressed up in my usual black jeans, black hoodie, and packed my bag. For God's sake, I don't love black, I'm not an emo either, it's just too hard to hide my fucking bruises.

My stepfather is probably one of the most expert 'bruise-giver' in the world. Whenever he's drunk, high, or even at his usual state, he would hit me or force me to fight him, he really just hates me for who I am. The feeling is mutual.

Maybe one good thing that I learned from my stepfather is self-defense. I also know how to use weapons. It's useful to me because a lot of people out there are simply psychotic.

I wish my mother was still here to save me from the demon in this house. I regret ever accepting him as my stepfather. Don't get me wrong, he used to love me until my mother died in the car accident which I miraculously survived.

And he hates me for that...

Not bothering to go downstairs, I opened up my window and jumped down. I don't like seeing his face in the morning it literally pisses me off. I rode my skateboard to Eastside High.

I left the skateboard to my hiding spot and walked quickly to my first class. I don't like making any dramatic entrances to my classes that's why I try my best not to be late.

My first period is Calculus. How freaking great! I sat on the far end corner seat and put my headphones on. Students quickly filled the classroom. I recognized most of them but none of them probably recognize me rather than the school emo.

When the bell rang, Mr. Cross entered the room. He finds it displeasing that only half of the classroom were filled. Well duh, calculus!

After ten minutes of class discussions, women in my class started whispering, some squealing. That meant only one thing, one of the gang boys were in the class.

"You're late on the first day, Mr. Hunter!" The math teacher exclaimed. Can this day even be lamer? Brandon Hunter, the well-known gang leader of the notorious gang of the bay area, The Nightwalker Gang.

Ignoring the teacher, Brandon took the seat next to me. I could feel all eyes turn to the back of the classroom, where we were. I scooted farther in my seat to hide my face from him, not that I'm afraid, but I'd rather have Brandon's eyes away from me.

The day went by quickly, I have seven classes, four of which included Brandon and other gang members. I don't think he noticed me in my other classes but I wish I could change my schedule.

After this lazy day, I went back to my hiding spot where I placed my skateboard. Since I didn't want to go home, I went to the lake to get some time to think. I haven't done that all summer.

When I reached the lake, I strolled in the woods. Well, in a typical story, I'd probably find myself captured by a vampire or bitten by a wolf, right? Well, not this story.

I picked up some sticks and started carving them. One more thing about me, I'm good at archery. I'm not Katniss Everdeen though. I just learned from my mother before she passed away.

After picking up sticks, I took the knife from my bag and carved random things before sharpening the end. I carved my initials, CJM, Cassidy Jules Morgan. Then, I spray painted it with the spray paints I had in my bag.

How I wish it was the weekends already. I'd always get out of the house with my bow and arrows and ride my bike to the woods. There I can be myself, I'd practice my archery skills.

Satisfied with my work, I went back home. When I opened the door, my stepfather is sitting in the living room, watching the replay of the basketball game. It looks like he's finished five bottles of beer already.

He didn't even bother to look at me so I quickly ran upstairs to my room. I took a quick shower before wearing my shirt and shorts. Yes, I don't wear pajamas. The night weather is still too hot for me to wear pajamas, well, I used to live in Illinois that's probably why.

After drying my wavy red hair, I sat on my desk and opened the mails. My stepfather doesn't care about the house especially paying the bills. He would drop hundred dollar bills whenever he feels like it so I have no choice but to take shifts in the burger shack.

Battling with my mind whether I should do any homework or not, I decided to start my art project. Basically, I have to make an artwork that represents a part of myself.

I thought of things that could represent a part of me. Most of them were loneliness, darkness, sorrow, and some of them were also archery, graffiti, adventures, and my mom. I just don't know which one to pick.

To start it, I painted the background black. I let it dry and I flopped onto my bed. Thankfully, I've opened my window to let some cool breeze inside my room and after drifting my thoughts, I fell into deep slumber.