My Angel

My Angel

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WpMetadataReadMatureComplete Mon, Nov 3, 202513h 52m
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Fiction
Romance
Bellamy Jackson is a sweet girl known by many but only hangs out with 3 people she calls her best friends. Bellamy is a one of the top competitive dancers in her state. Dancing is one of the most important things in Bellamy's life. It helps her forget about her lonely life at home and provides a safe space in her mind. She loves dancing. Kayson Hayes, is an odd one. He has black fluffy hair that reaches just past his eyes. He always where's a black surgical mask to school because he believes that the school air is contaminated. Well, nobody knows he thinks that. But nobody has actually seen his face. He only speaks when he needs to, and is horrible at expressing his emotions. The only thing that helps him is underground fighting. He loves fighting. ------------------------------ "People like to talk, what would your date think if he saw you under here with me? Or someone told him you were under here with me doing something?" He asked huskily, I glared at him. "Nothing. Because we aren't doing anything," I shrugged, he smirked. Kayson is smirking? "And if we were?" He questioned, moving his free hand down my waist and stopped at my hip. His other hand trailed from my waist chain to my back before traveling up to the nape of my neck, my breath hitched. I had to tilt my head up to look at him. "What are you doing?" I breathed, he stared at me deeply with a look in his eyes. He dropped his hands. "I don't know."
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She was the type to stare herself in the mirror and see someone else stare back. Someone who was free and light, being able to spread her wings like an unbound angel. She was neither chained to Heaven nor Hell. Howbeit, no matter how far she reached into the mirror, she could never step through as her ball-and-chain presented itself in the form of a crown. She was a princess with two faces, desperately trying to have a sense of freedom outside of her royal obligations. She found it in the form of a weakness: a passion with another human being. Her love for him and ballet had kept her chin high; her crown not slipping from her pastel hair. So why, why did it suddenly become so hard when a gothic gymnastic back-flipped into her life? Why were her heartstrings being tugged on by someone of her same gender? Why was it suddenly so difficult, so strenuous to keep living in her pastel world when this mysterious girl brought such bright colours with her? TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of sex, suicide and other mature themes will be contained within this book. Read at your own discretion.

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