Dead Roses

Rain

Chapter One

This book contains abuse and harassment. If you get triggered by these themes, I suggest you stop reading now.

London's P.O.V

Through the mirror, I stared at my emerald green eyes, noticing how they lack excitement. I looked at the mess of russet blonde hair resting on the top of my head. I reached for the wand of mascara on the granite bathroom countertop flicking it on my eyes and applied concealer on my eye bags, hoping to diminish the look of the lack of sleep visible on my face. I re-tucked my baby blue t-shirt into my worn black jeans and adjusted my gold pendant necklace. Greyson gave it to me six months ago for our first-year anniversary and since then it hasn't been removed. Harsh banging on the bathroom door pulled me out of my trance and I immediately unlocked it, being hit in the face by the door.

"Your lover is here London," Aliza teases, as she threw her arms around me. I continued to hold my nose until the stinging sensation wore off. "Sorry about that," she stands back, ending the hug and laughing lightly, showing her beautiful set of straight teeth. Aliza is blond from root to tip and her soulful blue eyes are as bright as any glacier yet warm and inviting.

"Thanks, I've got to go before he honks," referring to Greyson, stepping beside her and walking downstairs to the large open front door. Greyson's off-white Land Rover Discovery parked on the curb, greeting me as I walk out of the house. I was about to continue walking until I felt a large calloused hand gripping my arm painfully warranting a high-pitched shriek from me.

"Leaving without saying goodbye is very disrespectful London," Dad's familiar voice slurs as he spoke into my ear, alcohol lacing his breath.

"Sorry father, I will never do so again," I promise, just hoping he would let go of my wrist. He released me, throwing me towards Greyson's car. Dickhead. I opened the door to Grey's car plastering a fake smile on my face. "Hey, Grey," I buckle my seatbelt, locking my door before Dad could come back.

"You didn't put much effort into looking good today, did you?" he asks without greeting me. Easy for him to say. He is the star quarterback of the Fernyard High School, strands of dark, shaggy hair barely grazed his chiseled jawline, almost covering his brilliant, cornflower blue eyes and for some reason, he's with me.

"I did,"

"No, you didn't. Clearly," Greyson emphasizes, stretching over the console, lightly kissing my cheek. He then reversed out of the driveway and drove us to school in complete and utter silence.

***

Greyson swiftly parked in his 'reserved' parking spot. I opened the car door stepping out and intertwining my fingers with Grey's. As we walked into school, I received the usual looks and glares from envious girls and overheard the usual 'why is he with her' comments from girls who try way too hard. By now I would have thought those comments and glares would have died down, but they seem to have worsened.

I parted my farewells with Greyson and left for my locker. I attempted my locker combination three times before it unlocked and sighed as I fished in my disorganized locker for the textbooks, I would need for the next two periods. A warm hand covered my eyes, startling me making me drop my textbooks on the floor.

"Would you stop greeting me like that. A simple hello would be nice," I blankly say, reaching down to get the textbooks that had fallen on the grimy floor.

"If I was simple, your life would be boring," Aubrey's sweet, yet sarcastic voice replies, helping me collect my books. "Why so many books, loosen up it's the first week back," she quizzes, picking up the last book and handing it to me. Aubrey is a thin chocolate skinned girl with long, curled onyx strands of hair attached to her dark scalp and black circles outlining her golden-brown irises. Today she was sporting a plain white spaghetti strap t-shirt and a pair of ripped black jeans covering her beautiful long legs.