All Rights Reserved ©

Chapter 1- Bloody Legs

Florence Walker

The hallway was crowded. The floor couldn’t been seen- small freshmen were being innocently trampled by impatient seniors and juniors, all of which were either trying to get to class, or "inconspicuously" follow Blake Evans.

“Blake, we talked over the summer, remember? I messaged you and you responded with a heart? Remember?" A girl practically yelled in his ears.

I rolled my eyes, and felt a little nauseous about how clingy the underclassmen were.

I walked over to my cousin, Susan. My aunt Olivia named her after her own mom, who died.

“Hey Flo!” She yelled out to me.

Like her mom, she had platinum blonde hair, and a strange glint in her eye. It just so happened she held an air of being snobbish, yet I still managed to look past it.

We gave a little hug- we didn’t see each other at holiday’s because Mom always complained that their glass mansion was a ‘bad omen’ to her.

“Did you see Blake? His tan and his perfectly toned muscles under his shirt and-” Susan was actually drooling.

“Blake’s wearing a t-shirt, how would you know he has toned muscles?” I asked her suspiciously.

She shrugged, blushing. Susan, like her mom, chased boys for a living.

“What do you have first?” I asked her.

She told me her schedule. I was sad: We had none of the same classes, except lunch. (I didn’t count lunch as a class.)

“I’ll meet you around.” Susan said sadly.

She walked away to her first period class. I had history first.

People piled in the history class. I plopped down in the middle row seats. I moaned. History wasn’t my subject. I felt a wad of paper hit my head.

I turned around, Blake Evans smiling at me.

"Moan louder won't you."

I shot him a disgusted look, before turning back in my seat. It just wasn’t his sexual remarks that ticked me off, it was more of his hair gel. There was so much, I had to restrain myself from wringing it out of his hair.

“MORNING CLASS!” The teacher said in the front of the class.

I jumped up in my seat, alarmed.

The teacher was dressed strangely. While most teachers wore jeans and a shirt, she wore tight black jeans, and a t- shirt saying: ‘Carpe Diem’.

Everyone in their seats shifted, paying attention.

“My name is Miss. Rottenmier, today we will be- going over your course syllabus.” Miss Rottenmier announced, passing out thick packets.

"How the hell is she not married? 10 star right there." Blake whispered not-so quietly to someone near him.

Mrs. Rottenmier obviously heard: she beamed at Blake and made strides towards him.

"You know, I wonder that too." She said, blushing a red blotchy color.

I instantly felt disgusted, and I noticed several girls glaring at the history teacher, then down at their own bodies and sighing dramatically.

“Meet me after class Blake.” Mrs. Rottenmier said, throwing him a playful wink.

That was enough to send me home from vomiting my guts out. And enough to send Blake’s fan girls in a coma.


“So how was your classes?” Susan asked me as we made our way to the cafeteria.

“Terrible!” I told her.

“Blake acts like a freaking perverted freak!” I told her.

“Doesn’t stop him from being hot though.” She said.

I shook my head. Susan and I both waited in line for school lunch. Ever since mom’s age, the lunch was terrible. But Olivia’s mom told me they had good food back then.

Ever since we had our new principal, our lunches got worse- instead of a hot, meaty hamburgers were traded for an half frozen tofu burgers.

“Next,” Was the metallic, monotone voice of the lunch lady.

They were serving their ‘best’. Chef’s Meat Surprise.

“I honestly don’t wanna eat this.” Susan told me as we sat down at our table.

“We don’t have much of a choice. It’s either we eat it or-”

“- Share with me.” Blake said interrupted me.

My eyes narrowed, while Susan’s got really big. She started to flip back her hair, making her designer shirt stand out more clearly.

“Hey.” He said to Susan causally.

Susan was blushing, her face a beet red. Blake plopped down, as if he always sat there. His little mob had just enough respect to not sit with us, instead taking refuge at the neighboring tables, which they normally never gave a glance at.

“Oh my gosh.” I said, getting fed up with his arrogance.

“Realizing my beauty now, aren’t we?” He said, smirking.

I thumped my head on the table. Susan was completely leaning over to the table, practically drooling.

" So, what’s your name?” He said Susan.

Susan blushed a darker shade.

" Susan. Susan Coldwell’.” She said.

Blake’s eyes widened a little.

"Coldwell’ huh? You wouldn't happen to be related to Caleb Coldwell?” He asked.

"He's my dad." Susan said, her eyebrows furrowing a little. It was basically common sense her family was rich.

Susan’s dad, Caleb was an wealthy entrepreneur who specialized in the technology field. In every state across the U.S., they had like a glass mansions there. They're loaded.

"Hm. I thought the daughter of Caleb Coldwell would’ve been hot.” He said.

He strolled away, acting like nothing happened. Susan burst out crying. I patted her shoulder sympathetically.

" A slinthead will always be a slinthead.” I told her, repeating what my mom told me.

Susan wiped her tears to shoot me a disgusted look.

"Florence, what the fuck is that? 'a slinthead'." She said mockingly.

I knew the only way she'd get over what just happened was by taking out her anger on me. So I grinned alongside her.

“I know he has something more then his outside in him.” She said.

I shrugged.


“FLO.. flo.. Flee! Fwloooooo!” Mom yelled to me when I walked upstairs.

She was in the bathroom, her legs bloody.

“Why did you try to shave your legs while you’re drunk?” I yelled at her.

She shrugged, her head moving sluggishly back and forth.

“I’b noticed me legs were hairy, needed to shave dem up for Brad today.“She said, hiccuping.

I didn’t even ask who Brad was- she had a new ‘Hippie Bar’ buddy every week.

“You chunked off a piece of your skin..” I said.

The blood was making me feel nauseous. Mom was muttering something about body soap. Without warning, she stripped her clothes off.

“Gosh mom.” I said.

I looked away.

She jumped into the shower, and cranked up the water.

A few minutes later she was yelling, cussing.

“HOLY SHIT THAT STINGS!” She screamed loudly

She ran out of the shower, tearing down the shower curtain while doing so. I was desperately trying to block out her naked form.

I checked the soap she was using.

“Mom, of course it would sting! It’s antibacterial hand sanitizer against your bloody legs!” I yelled at her.

She shrugged.

“I sensed it was a good omen for the third eye.” She said.

I screamed in frustration, kicking aside the hand sanitizer.

“MOM! YOU DO NOT HAVE A THIRD EYE.” I screamed at her.

“YOU HAVE 2! ONE HERE AND ONE THERE!” I yelled, practically poking her eyes back in her sockets.

She looked mildly interested. Then she shrugged and walked away, talking to herself while doing so.

I would hate that woman, only if she wasn’t my mom.

Continue Reading Next Chapter

About Us

Inkitt is the world’s first reader-powered publisher, providing a platform to discover hidden talents and turn them into globally successful authors. Write captivating stories, read enchanting novels, and we’ll publish the books our readers love most on our sister app, GALATEA and other formats.