Perfectly Wrong

It is wrong. It is so, so wrong . . . but it’s perfect too. It’s perfect and it’s wrong. And I don’t know . . . maybe it’s perfectly wrong.
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Sometimes people don’t fit in.
They just don’t, no matter how they try to.
Sometimes, they fit in perfectly but the place is so wrong. It isn’t right, but they fit in anyway. Confused as hell, these people pull away and search for the “right” place. Only most of the time, they don’t find it. They don’t find the “right” place and have already left behind the place where they did fit in perfectly because it was “wrong”.
So they either put up a barrier between them and the world, or they put up a façade.
What she chose to do was the latter.
Putting up a façade everyday so that she can fit in. Twisting herself to at least appear to be an insider. Fighting tooth and nail to become a part of the circle. That is what her life is. And to think she’s only seventeen.
But then that isn’t where it ends. Oh, no, no . . . not a single life can go without more complications.
Danger wraps its arms around her, wraps itself around her already complicated life . . . and you have the perfect horror story ready.
But what if the danger comes with a lot more? What then? What type of story does that make?
A romance.
’Cause a romance has it all—the danger, the drama, the adventure, the happiness, the sadness, the anger, the love, the hate, the attraction, the fear, the strength, the weakness . . . everything.
***