Onions

Pity Parties

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Stage- Draft[] Editing[✔] Finished[]

Picture- May Weaver

Chpt 1. - Pity Parties
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Warning! - This is an unedited and rough draft of a chapter. It will be revised, edited, and improved in future updates as fast as possible. Continue at your own risk.

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Noon- May's dorm

A soft peak of twilight drifted in through the torn shutters.
"What kind of excuse is that" I spat with a particularly bitter tone. 

     My pouted lips curved into a disappointed frown as I shuffled towards my lazy excuse of a bed.

"A good one May," My cocky roommate's voice shrieked. Her voice strained my ears and made me cringe as if nails on a chalkboard. "and maybe if you actually ever attended, nevertheless been invited to a party to would understand." 

     Her pale blue eyes twitched in immense rage, suiting the perplexed look of rage that sat on her bony cheeks. I gritted my teeth trying to hold back the evil demon inside of me that wanted to swear it's head off. I pulled my emotions together, and threw myself face down unto my unmade bed ignoring her obvious disbelief. I could see my endless pile of hoodies laying on the already filth ridden floor through a small peephole.

"Fine go to your ridiculous douche-bag pity party." I moaned through a muffled voice. I was too busy drooling over my favorite boyband poster I had barely managed the peer out at.

     I didn't hear a word, just a little-aggravated squeak, probably a few swear words, and a failed attempt to slam the door which ended in a painful scream. Serves the princess right. She spends most of her time on Instagram calling every boy in school her bae like it isn't a Danish word for poop, and sending them pictures of her in her hideous goodwill bikinis. Shes you're average cocky, stuck up, boy crazy Tumblr girl. I, on the other hand, am more of the laid back causal lifestyle. You know, only moving enough so no one thinks I'm dead. I don't care much for life, homework, or people in general. Oops, I take that back, I care about Pizza, Coke, and my Xbox. And THATS all.

     Well, here I am again, Saturday night, stranded in this depressing rat hole waiting for the grim reaper to come and stab me with a lightsaber until I die and my roommate shoves me out the window. I glared down at my pizza stained sweatshirt and brushed my soft black waves out of my hazel eyes. I'm not your most perfect gal, but I'm pretty straight forward. You can call me one of the guys, it doesn't offend me, I just tell them I'm transgender and it scares them off. I have a heart shaped face and naturally disgusting perplexion. My face is like a mafia battleground for acne. And my pencil thin greasy hair makes me oh so gorgeous when paired with my pouted lips and awkward dimples.

      The break of twilight had slowly faded leaving me licking my patchy and dry lips. There was only a slight glare of starlight on my thick-rimmed Harry Potter glasses I had had since I was seven. I was swaddled in a mountain of fuzzy covers and anime books that I had been reading for now what seemed like, (and probably had been) hours. My pale skin was itchy and dry from the cold winter nights I had spent scratching at textbooks and homework for the past week. I peered my eyes at the wall in the hope to see a friendly spider, but I was alone in solitude. There was no usual snoring from Dakota, and no miscellaneous wind howling.

     Just as I grabbed my last cliche anime book I heart a soft moan through the grainy and sad paper thin walls of my dorm. The moan was squeaky but deep so it couldn't have been a girls. A great deal a weeping followed. I scrunched my face together clenching my covers tightly. I'm not usually one to help people, but this voice was utterly attracting and mesmerizing. I threw a hefty pile of covers off my scrawny legs and crawled off my bed. I glared at the clock.