Never trust a survivor until you know what they did to get out alive
The chaos in the cafeteria was amusing. Gemma- she’s a brunette, five four in height, gorgeous green eyes and a killer figure. She was in her cheer outfit, making quite a scene as she was confronting her boyfriend on cheating with her. I may or may not have something to do with this. She should have seen this one coming, though. She might not lack anything in the looks department, but she did lack a bit of common sense. Jackson, being the ladies girl, as I call it, has been checking out and flirting anything with big boobs, even the teachers. How she didn’t see this until now is beyond me. He’s not even known to be loyal in a relationship. He must have dated a quarter of girls in our year and flirted with ninety-nine percent of them.
I was just sat back in my seat, enjoying the moment, whilst sipping on my juice with a straw that came attached with it. I’ve always loved having chaos around me. Maybe I should have phrased that differently. I’ve grown up with a quiet life. Literally, quiet. I didn’t have a father from what I knew and my mother, well, she was a complicated case. She passed away a few years ago, but it’s not like I’d care about that. I had no remorse for when I found her dead in the house. Someone had shot her during a burglary. She was never the best mother in first place anyways, so I wasn’t bothered. I had her body disposed of, which wasn’t that hard, considering who I’d been hanging around with since I was ten years old. I didn’t want to go to the police, already knowing about the foster system. I was being selfish. I had two choices at that point. Either tell the police about my mother passing away and get sent into the foster system. Or, have her body disposed of and continue living the way I was before. It wasn’t difficult to decide. By having a quiet life, I meant a house quiet life. My life outside the house was filled with chaos, anger, blood. Anything that helped my disorder. I started off with ODD as a child, which then developed into ADHD, which is now, as my therapist puts it, ASPD- sociopathy and psychopathy- in simpler words.
I blame my mother for it after doing research about it. If she was a nicer mother, then maybe, I’d have some empathy, but no. To be honest, now I just didn’t care.
Suddenly, I saw a girl try and pull Gemma off Jackson, but Gemma had shrugged her off hard, making the girl land on the floor. Whilst I saw everyone panicking about their star players, I was chuckling, sipping on the juice in satisfaction.
Then, two teachers came and tried their best to separate them.
“You were really enjoying that, weren’t you?” I turn my head to face Flynn. He and I weren’t too different. He has IED. His anger issues and mine are almost on the same level. He was one of my closest friends. The other being Harley. She was the baby of our group. She was the complete opposite of us both. She’s the person who grounds us together. She’s our translator. She doesn’t have any issues like we do, but she translates for us. Mine and Flynn’s EQ is nowhere near hers, so while we share our IQ with her, she tries to teach us how to empathise. Let me just say, it only works with her around. Other than that, we couldn’t care less what we do. For some reason, with Harley, we don’t get mad. It’s like she was meant to be our friends from the beginning.
“What can I say? I’m sucker for this. It’s like music to my ears,” I smirk, still staring as Jackson punches one of his friends as he finds out that Gemma had kissed him whilst they were dating.
“You’re both my worst students ever,” Harley grumbles, burying her face into her arms and we smirk at that, continuing to eat calmly.
“We’re your only students, Harls,” Flynn speaks up.
“Whatever Flynn Rider,” she retorts, knowing he hates being called that.
The bell rings and I sigh, throwing the empty carton into the bin and I stand up, slinging my bag over my shoulders. Harley gets up and Flynn gets on Harley’s other side. Flynn wasn’t in the same lesson as we were this time, since our classes were split into two and the teachers didn’t want two students with major anger issues in one room together either, so Flynn and I were split. I drop my bag to the floor, taking a book and a pen out.
I look at the words that the teacher had put on the screen and I analyse them, understanding them and memorising them before I wrote down my interpretation of them. This method usually works. I mean, I’m not a straight A star student over nothing. We do only study three topics, unfortunately, but I have taken courses outside of school to get me where I need to be in the future.
Just as I was mid writing, my pen ran out. I huffed, scribbling it across the page roughly, but accidentally ripping the piece of paper in the middle. I tighten my grip on my pen, shutting my eyes tightly as I take in a deep breath. I felt the kid sat on the other side of me tense, knowing how my outbursts get. I snatch the pen from his hands and continue to write.
“Hey, that was my-”
I turn to look at him, giving him just one look to shut him up.
“Your pen,” he grumbles.
Rolling my eyes, I start writing again, but this time, the tannoy calls my name over. Everyone was silent.
I packed my things, flicking the pen back to the guy and Harley looked at me. “Did you do anything?” I think for a moment.
“Nothing intentionally this time. Or I may have. Who knows?” She groans, covering her head with her hands.
“You really don’t learn, idiot,” she grumbles. She was the only one who could get away with talking to me like that, too. “Message me,” she warns me, as I step away. I give her just one nod, my expression not changing as I left the room. I made my way to the head teacher’s office. Without knocking, I opened the door.
“What did you want?” I was quite annoyed that they had interrupted me after I had began to focus.
Mr Fitz looked at me, giving me a stern look. “How many times do I have to tell you to knock before you enter?” I raise a brow as I take a seat.
“Get on with it. I didn’t come here for a fucking lecture. Who is this?” I point to the woman in the chair.
“I’m from social services, Miss Smith,” I still didn’t feel anything.
“What do you want?” I raise a brow.
“Maybe it’s best if we talk elsewhere,” she says, raising her brow at me. I roll my eyes, getting up and making my way out, following her to the car park. She goes to her car and since I don’t have one yet, I get lifts from Flynn, or I walk majority of the time.
“Spit it out,” I snap at her, giving her a glare. She wasn’t surprised at my behaviour and she takes in a deep breath.
“We were informed by an anonymous source that you live alone,” she tells me, “how long have you lived alone for, Miss Smith?”
“Quit diverting the fucking topic. What do you want?” I ask her, not glaring, or scowling at her.
“We have contacted your closest relatives, which happen to be your brothers and your father and they have decided to take you into custody,” she tells me. This is gold. “Since you still sixteen, you will be sent off to live with them as of this evening.”
“Sent off? What am I, a fucking parcel? I’m not leaving,” I respond, clenching my fists together.
“Miss Smith, I’m afraid you don’t have a choice. It’s either there- to Stratford, or the system,” she told me, a stern look on her face. God, I don’t like her.
Then, my mind began to think about it. Stratford. Shakespeare’s Stratford. Warwick has good opportunities for what I want to do later in life. I don’t even need to get along with the assholes. I just need to study and get myself the fuck out of there. It’s the best plan. I nod my head slowly, a slow smirk appearing on my face.
“Right. And how exactly will I be getting to Shakespeare’s town exactly?” I lean across her car. She’s uncomfortable after seeing me smirk. I can tell.
“You will be getting picked up by your father,” she clears her throat.
“Right,” I drag out. “Well, excuse me. I have school to finish,” I say, turning to walk, but she stops me.
“No, you’ve been dismissed already,” she tells me, making me sigh, as I turn around. I face her, giving her a bored look.
“I have school to finish. Don’t make me repeat it a third time,” I say, my tone bored too.
“Miss Smith, I think that-”
“Oh, who gives a fuck what you think?” I roll my eyes, shaking my head. “I’m going inside. I’m finishing school. I’m getting some chocolate. I’m meeting a friend. Then, I’ll pack my shit and do whatever the fuck you need me to. Otherwise, it’s a pretty car. Vintage. Someone special must have passed it to you, no?” I ask, seeing the small, passport sized picture on the dashboard. “It’s clean and looks very well taken care of. Who, your grandfather? Must be a shame if his car somehow ends up crushed in the junkyard, no?”
She pales slightly and I know instantly how valuable it is to her. Nodding my head, I give her a smirk.
“I’ll meet you at the house at four,” I pat her car, leaving to go back inside.
okay, so basically, i changed the entire plot for this story because the other one was just not working out.
hope you enjoy it!