When Bree moves to a new school, the last thing she expects is to bump into an old friend. But her friend has changed, into a cold, badass player who pushes her buttons in all the wrong ways.
Will she keep her distance and move on, or will she fall...
One place that can either make your life hell, or be the best years of your life. Maybe it's down to luck, and it's the people who are there that decipher which end of the stick you get, the people who eye out the weak and unpopular like predators.
Or maybe it's the fact that it's compulsory and we have to go for five freaking days a week for just about 6 hours. Just thinking about going to my new school makes me wanna hibernate in my room all day and binge watch 'Shameless'. Again.
I mean on the bright side, I do know one girl called Maya. She went to my old school and also moved. We weren't the best of friends, but she was nice in general.
okay Bree, who the fuck am I to whine about school. I should be glad I have a clean slate, considering how ridiculously hard it's been for the majority of my life.
I've been living with the person I call my mum for nearly a year now and I have already grown to love her. My biological dad was pretty much a monster, and that's being nice...I was abused and treated like absolute shit, especially when he was drinking, which somehow amplified his anger towards everyone and everything.
Mum died during child birth so I never got to meet her, and I struggle to even remember a time when Trevor was sober. Maybe the man started his addiction because of her death, but who knows.
He would hurt me physically, and in tow came the mental side. He would say that if I told anyone about what was happening, he'd end my life.
It got worse as I grew older, he began putting more responsibility on my shoulders and I had to keep the house from falling apart while Trevor gambled and drank his life away.
Eventually I was brave enough to seek help at the police, and figured that I'd rather him kill me and go to jail, then to put up with the bullshit anymore. From there, I was sent to live with my foster mum who also had a child, Bryan, who I now call my brother.
Long story short, I'm still mentally and physically scarred from the years of abuse, often wondering if the monsters still out there despite seeing him put behind bars with my own eyes.
"Get the hell up!" Bryan yells, pounding on the bedroom door. I groan, rubbing my tired eyes before sitting up in bed.
Checking the time on my phone, I see that it's-
"7:30!" shit, "I'm up, I'm up!"
"About time." He mocks with an eye roll that I can just see through the door, and I huff in reply. I wash my face, tie my hair into a top knot and chuck on an outfit. I quickly post on Instagram after begging Bryan to take the photo. I crop out my face because I look like walking PMS, and then do my everyday makeup.
ItzBreeBitch
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