STITCHES(Completed✔) EDITING

2.

Alexia's pov

I woke up to my mother banging on my door, yelling my name.

Not actually my name though.

"It's morning already you bitch, get your ass outta bed!" She yelled.

This is why I never forget to lock my door.

I let out a curse as I stumbled out of bed and walked over to the door, yanking it open.

Whack.

My head tilted to the side with a resounding crack almost immediately.

It took me a moment to realise she slapped me. I stared at her wide eyed in surprise because I wasn't expecting it, she never hits me on the face because she doesn't want my bruises to be obvious.

She glared at me then her face went pale when her eyes fell to my cheek. I ran over to my mirror and stared at my reflection. My cheek had started to swell, the area around it red. It made it look like I was punched instead of slapped.

The hell is her hand made of?

"You're not leaving this house until you cover that up." she said.

"I don't have any make-up."

"Do I look like I give a fuck?"

''Never thought you did." I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?" She asked menacingly.

"Nothing."

She eyed me warily before going out and slamming the door behind her.

I lifted my hand hesitantly to my cheek and winced when my hand made contact. Okay, that hurt.

After I had a quick shower, I made up my mind and walked over to my closet. I shrugged on my faded NYC T-shirt and my favorite hoodie. I rummaged through the few clothes I had and picked up my hand ripped pants, finally completing it with my worn out sneakers.

Putting my hair up in a messy bun, I stood in front of the mirror and took in my appearance. Satisfied with how I looked, I carried my bag and literally ran down the stairs and out the front door.

I tried to catch my breath as I headed for school.

Today as always, I'm not going to care what anyone says. Sure, people try to bully me every time because they think I'm an easy target, truth is I don't let them.

I mean come on, I get beat up at home every fucking day and they expect me to be cool with getting beat up at school?

I don't think so.

Today, they can stare all they want at my cheek but if they talk shit, I'll let them have it.

Satisfied with my current state of mind, i raised my head high as I stopped in front of the school.

It loomed over me like a nightmare. I clutched my bag straps tighter as I walked through the doors.

Almost immediately, the whispers started.

"Oh. Em. Gee.'' Someone gasped. ''What is she wearing?"

I rolled my eyes when I heard that.

''Wearing what I have bitch!'' I hollered over my shoulder.

"The weirdo got beat up."

A snicker.

"Probably by the druggies she's fucking."

At that statement I flared up. I retraced my steps and came to a stop in front of a popular girl.. but that didn't stop me.

It has never stopped me before and it wouldn't stop me now.