"and the square root of 100..." I begamn to drift away. I saw her hair flipping from her shoulders to her back. Her smile and her wink. She was talking to someone else in the hall. I could read her lips. She laughed and then said "is tomorrow okay?". Another date, or contract, shall I say. Interesting. It's like I'm reading a book. What's her name again, Cali, right? I tapped the person beside me. "What?" I didn't divert my gaze. "What's her name. Right there. In the hallway" I pointed discreetly. "EMILY, RACHEL, SHUT UP" the teacher briefly scolded us and went back to her usual boring teaching. She ripped a piece of paper from her book. It read in scratchy writing Cali Bonham. Yup. It was Cali. I whispered "thanks" and shoved the paper in my bag. I gotta keep it so I'll remember. Shoudler length hair. Long and a dark brown color. Emerald eyes. Small, sick looking figure. That's Cali Bonham. I wonder why she looked so sick. I could see the hickeys on her jawline that she had tried to cover up. All of the cigarette burns on her hands. Her red, bruised knuckles that she tried to cover up with multiple rings. Her long, black painted fingernails. Her crooked toothed smile, but not too crooked. Her attitude gave me Kurt Cobain vibes. She seemed like the kind of person that simply didn't care, and has been drinking and smoking since the age of 15. I admire her for that. I wonder what put her here. Abusive household? Daddy issues? I'm not sure. "Okay, you're free for dismissal" the teachers voice broke through my thoughts. "Okay bye" I ran out of the class.
YOU ARE READING
Blood Splattered Polaroids
General Fiction"why can't you love me" i asked, walking towards her. "you're too fragile, honey, I don't want to be the one to break you". original characters, original story.
