Comes With The Seasons

Chapter 7

Hey guys! So like I promised I will be uploading two chapters this week due to messing up last week. CATCH IS, I will be uploading a non-canon short story chapter because A. I'm lazy as fuck B. Horrible motherfucking week and C. I wanted to. Enjoy!

-_-_-_-_- Nobodies POV -_-_-_-_-

BANG!

"WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM ASSHOLE!?" Xavier yells angrily.

Everyone at the lockers raise their heads to the cause of the noise. Alex is holding Xavier to the locker bay beside Mila's locker.

"Little shits like you who believe it's cool to objectify girls! Listen here pervert! I don't know what girls from whatever pot house you dug out of like a guy to do, but here they don't like to called sluts and man handled by drugged up assholes!" Alex shouts, lifting Xavier higher off the ground.

"Please, she was fucking loving it," Xavier spat.

"WHY YOU-"

"Hey Alex! Let the boy go!" A voice yells.

-_-_-_-_- Mila's POV -_-_-_-_-

"What the actual fuck do you think you are doing Alex?" I yell, walking up to Alex who is casually holding Xavier to the locker bay.

"None of your business Wentworth!" he yells angrily.

"Listen here asshole, I'm not gonna have you attacking kids at my school on your first day! So HANDS. OFF!"

"I DON'T NEED TO LISTEN TO YOU! PLUS I THOUGHT YOU HATED ME!" Alex yells louder before throwing Xavier to the ground.

"ALEX THAT IS ENOUGH!" I yell, jumping in front of Xavier.

Suddenly a fist collides with my cheek. I feel my body fall to the ground and pain bursts up my arm. What? I feel disgusted at the taste of metal in my mouth. I push myself up into a sitting position and lift my hand to my mouth. I pull my hand away to see blood smeared on it. My eyes drift up to where Alex is standing with wide eyes and his arm out. I notice everyone who was talking about the fight before is silent. Not to mention but Xavier is no where to be seen.

"Mila, shit, I'm sor-" Alex leans his hand out for me to take.

"Save it. I hope you are happy with yourself," I spit out, slapping his hand away.

I jump up from the ground and stomp over to where I placed my bag beside the lockers. I grab it, swinging it on my shoulder, before running home. Stupid boy. Stupid school. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Tears threaten my eyes as I run to my house.

"WHAT DOES IT MATTER?!" I hear yells echoing from the kitchen as I walk up to my front door. Mum and Dad fighting again . . . What's it about this time?

"BECAUSE YOU AREN'T HOME! YOU ARE NEVER HOME! YOU ARE SO BUSY WITH WORK THAT YOU DIDN'T EVEN REALIZE YOUR DAUGHTER WASN'T HOME!" My mother yells as I open the front door.

I sigh heavily and choke back my tears, kicking my shoes off I place them neatly beside the coat rack. I check myself in the hallway mirror to see a my cheek bright red and blood on the edge of my cheek. I take note of the lack of yelling. You might think this is better but it is worse because it means someone has lost the fight. I walk into the hallway and slow down when I get to the kitchen doorway. I peek around the corner to see an empty kitchen. I let out a breath of relief before walking in.

(The next paragraph is just cooking food because I'm hungry rn)

I throw my bag beside the counter before walking over to the fridge. I grab out the orange juice and grab a piece of raw chicken from the freezer. Grabbing a glass, I pour myself some juice before pulling out a frying pan. I lightly grease it before removing the skin off the chicken. I turn on the stove and throw the chicken in the pan. I search through the drawers for tongs before finding a mini pair underneath all of the rolling pins and other gizmos. I proceed to cook my chicken whilst reheating fried rice from leftover Chinese food that we had on Friday. I cut up the chicken before placing it and the rice in a bowl.

After grabbing a fork, I recede to my bedroom to consume my food. I throw myself and my laptop onto my bed and open YouTube. I play some random video of Drawing Wiff Waffles. I probably should be patching up my face and what I assume is my elbow that I fell on . . . But YouTube and food is just too good . . . But then again I rather not have a bruised face and have to explain what happened with my parents. I groan before pausing the video and placing my food on my bed.

I rush down the stairs after doing security checks. Can't have Joslyn being a random asshole right now . . . 

"What are you doing, idiot?"

Ah, speak of the devil and she shall arrive. 

"What do you what Joslyn?" I groan, making sure she can't see my red cheek.

"I'm heading out to my boyfriend's house, tell Mum and Dad I'm at Stacey's place," Joslyn 'asks' before fixing up her lip gloss using her phone camera.

"Now, once again, why would I do that?"

"Because if you don't, I'll tell Mum and Dad about you getting in a fight today."

"I didn't get into a fight."

"Oh? That's not what Cloe said. She said that Alex Young punched you in the face. I hope it made an improvement because you really need it."

I clench my fists but stay silent.

"That's what I thought," Joslyn laughs before walking out the front door.

If only I could wring that girl by the neck- calm Mila. She isn't worth our time. Better yet Mum or Dad's. They have enough to deal with . . . I let out a shaky breath before walking into the kitchen. I pull an ice pack out of the freezer and place it on my cheek. Wincing at both the pain that spread through my cheek and the chill of the cold. I walk back upstairs and into the bathroom. I use my free hand to pull my sleeve over my elbow. There is a bruise forming and a small graze but nothing to serious. I grab a band-aid and struggle to open it with one hand, using my teeth to get it open.

I carefully place it over the graze and pull my sleeve back down. I sigh and take the ice pack off my face. I look up into the mirror and take a good, long look at myself.

My hair is disheveled, there is dirt and twigs in parts of it from when I fell on the ground. My eyes are red and irritated from crying before. There is blood on the corner of my mouth and my lip is split, probably from biting on it when I was punched in the face. I look like a mess. I hate Alex. I hate Joslyn. I hate Cloe. I hate it when my parent's fight. That's why I stopped Alex from hurting Xavier. It reminded me too much of my parent's fighting. I stopped the fight only to run home and find another one. I wish I was back at my Grandmother's. She wouldn't fight someone in front of me. She wouldn't yell at me. She wouldn't manipulate me. She wouldn't hurt me. I hate Summer. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. Why, why does it have to be this way?

When I snap back to reality I'm staring into the mirror with tears freely rolling down my cheeks. My fists are clenched so tightly that my nails have cut into the skin of my palms. My bottom lip is snared in my teeth to stop myself from sobbing which in turn has opened back up my split lip, causing blood to drip down my lip and chin. I'm a mess. I've always been a mess. I just have never looked the part til now. I drop my head down.

It's okay Mila. Calm down. Everything is fine. Everything has to be fine.

I lift my head back up but instead of frowning, I give the mirror my best smile. I wipe the blood from my lip, tears from my eyes and dirt from my hair. I brush my curly red hair and reform it into it's nicely placed side part. I apply light foundation to my face, concealer to my forming bruise, blush to my cheeks, eyeliner to my eyes and lip gloss to my lips. I look at myself in the mirror and I see Mila. I see normal, happy Mila. The Mila that her mother and father can be proud of. The Mila that rivals with her sister but never falls beneath her. The Mila who is there for her friends and family. The Mila that is great at Art, English and History. The Perfect Mila.