78

Beep… Beep… Beep… I slammed the alarm clock, it falling onto the floor, breaking it again. Not like it mattered, I just popped the screen back onto the the small box.
“Makayla, time for you to get up!” I rolled my eyes and myself to the closet. I grabbed some ripped black skinnies from the hamper, and Of Mice & Men tshirt to follow.
I trudged down the stairs, my black untied combat boots making loud thuds with each step. My black Misfits hoodie already on with the hood pulled up over my face, and earphones blaring Suicide Silence in my ears.
I dumped the rest of what was left of the coffee into a mug, bringing the black liquid up to my lips. I gulped down the dark perfection and pulled out the earphones.
“Bandit, mom. My name’s Bandit.” I shoved the earphones back in, blocking out her retort.
I quickly moved around the kitchen, grabbing junk food, too quickly for Lyn-Z- my mom- to see what it was, also grabbing cash from the glass bowl of loose change. I walked back up to my room, grabbing my bag- a small, beat up black duffel- and putting a fresh pack of cigarettes in my back pocket. My wallet and gum following suit.
I glanced at my clock, 7:45. I took the steps two at a time, grabbed my house key, and locked the front door on my way out for school.

-
So, I’m just an average teenage girl in her last year of middle school. Well, I guess I’m not exactly what you would call ‘average’. For example:
- my hair is cut to a mohawk, keeping it at a fringe in front of my left eye
- hair color is black, dyed red at the sides
- I smoke
- I’m gay

Ah! Yes, that familiar twist in this story of my life. I’m sure as hell that you were expecting that though. Not saying that my story is any different from any other ‘gay punk’ story, just mine consists of five things.

-Alcohol
-Blood
-Drugs
-Money
-Music

See, I even alphabetized them for you.You may be taken aback at most of these titles, so I will just tell you straight up; this is no fairy tale, I will not make this clean, and sure as hell, I am NOT going to be nice. This is a story of how one girl goes from being a bitch, to being an ULTRA bitch.
Don’t bother wiping your feet as you enter this house of alcohol, blood, drugs, money, and music.

-
I walked into the building,not even close to being spared from insults, most of them involving the words ‘emo’, ‘fag’, ‘lowlife’, ‘suicidal’, etc. And I’m not saying that those words don’t describe me accurately.
My favs though- the ones that hurt the most- were ‘addict’, and ‘cutter’. Ooooh, ouch! Yeah, those ones sting. They hurt more than ‘fuck up’ and ‘good for nothing’ do. Two short reasons why they were the worst:
-I was an addict, a very bad one at that
-My arms, legs, and stomach are lined with scars, most of them fresh

So in a way, I am everything that I am called.
Don’t you DARE show me ANY pity or affection, or any emotion at that, besides, of course, hate, discomfort, insultive, repulsed, I could go on. Just don’t love me. The word kills me.
Okay, now let’s see what’s on the agenda for the day.

I got to my locker, of course, there were more pieces of paper taped on. Paper, of course, no one would DARE spray paint MY locker.
I flipped through open my lighter, the small chemical flame hopping from page to page, dying only once there were no more insultive papers on the metal door.
I threw my bag in my locker, grabbing a bag of miniature cookies and my sketch pad. Forgetting something, am I… School books! I looked at the schedule inside the metal box… first, History.
I slammed my locker and hurried down the corridor, hood up, music blasting. I got to Coleman’s history class. I tall pair of legs in front of me, I ignored it for a few songs, songs by Cannibal Corpse and Falling in Reverse. Finally I looked up to see his face.

-
THIS IS NOT A LOVE STORY- I’m gay!!!!

-
I rolled my eyes and I took the earphones out.
“So, what’s up emo fag?” I closed the sketch book I was doodling in and relaxed into my chair.
“Well, let’s see here,” I said sarcastically. “there’s the ceiling, sky, clouds, sun, my foot and your ass in a sec if you don’t fuck off.” He stumbled back, knocking into a girl. “Heya! Watch it, fuckface!” He turned around to face her, and she whimpered an apology before he turned back to me.
“So, Alex, tell me how you are these days, haven’t seen you in around, almost starting to miss your tacky threats……” I pretended to gaze off into the distance. Then he snapped, losing his cool, his clenched fist swinging in my direction. I grabbed his hand, throwing it back into him. “Trying to hit a girl, oh, shame on you.” He jumped back, his cursing coming out in one word. Him and his jock friends stumbled out the door as I stood up.
I sighed and relaxed again, putting my earphones back in and hood up. I continued with my drawing.

Notes

So its something different. tel me what u think and if i should keep writing! thnx luv u all

-Val