Shsha

Hi, my name is Rose. I'm 17 and I live with adopted parents. My adopted mother died five years ago, so I live with my adopted dad. After her death we moved here, to Colorado. I like the place, and well, I guess I donn't have any friends, but that's all my fault. With my many fears and total abusive father, I hide at school, scared to talk. I make straight A's, and I haven't talked to anyone for five years. My best friend is Emie. I write notes to her, and that's how we communicate. This one girl named Angie works hard to make my life a living hell. That's because I was much prettier than her. Angie is actually the only one that was there for me with my mother's death. In seventh grade we were best friends. Those were her tom boy years. She had worn her dark hair in a twisted ponytail. But as you get older you also become prettier. So now she wears her long hair down her back, and I style mine every morning. My hair was a beautiful blonde, and I had the bluest eyes. I wish that I could live my life without fear, and forever long I thought I would. But that was before December came.