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*Fallen Angel*

Novel By: XxalexandraxX

Chelsea is the only emo in her entire town, everyone is getting on her last nerves, she finally breaks and does something that she will forever regret... View table of contents...


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Submitted:Apr 30, 2009    Reads: 234    Comments: 6    Likes: 1   

Life sucks.

I learned that at a very young age. Its hard fitting in when you're the only one wearing all black, and have your hair dyed multicolor. So I don't even try. I've never been a people person. Humans are my enemies. They don't understand me. And I don't care. But sometimes I wish I had a friend. Sometimes…

I walk a lonely path, where others have walked, and have suffered. They have wished to die. But they had no other choice then to bare it. That path is the hallway of Marauder's High School.

Jocks, Cheerleaders, Foreign Exchange Students, Rich Kids, and Bullies, all stared at my direction as I walked by. I was used to being gawked at, so it wasn't anything peculiar. The truth was; I didn't care how the world saw me. The world and I didn't have a friendly relationship, we were two complete opposites. Negative plus Negative equals back fire. I walked to class with my usual lacking pace. I was two minutes late. Ms. Eisenhower gave me a detention slip as I slouched in. Through her tiny seventy's looking glasses he eyes spelled REGECTION. And again, nothing I wasn't used to. She said in her cat lady voice, "Stand here." Her mouth was chewing on a piece of gum like it always was.

Her little round body walked to the chalk board. She grabbed a piece of chalk and started writing Japanese on the board. After a moment she signaled me to come to her. I was there standing in front of the class, listening to those little comments I heard behind my back.

Ms. Eisenhower placed the chalk in my hand. "Why don't you do the Math problem of the day, Chelsea?" She was looking at me through her little devil glasses. Her lips were pouting, and her lipstick was smudged. Her face looked like a big old prune.

I stood there, not knowing what to do. I looked at the board then at the she-devil. She was smiling. But it wasn't a happy smile, no; it was a your-to-stupid-to-do-anything-and-will-probbaly-end-up-killing-yourself-one-day smile. The squishing sound her gum in her mouth made me wish I could have taken out my pocket knife and slammed it right through her eye socket.

I dropped the chalk to the ground. It made this tap sound as it hit the ground, like an empty shell of a bullet. I took my conversed foot and slammed it into the chalk. The students gasped, as I walked out of the class. "I know where the principle's office is." I said behind me in my emotionless voice.

I was wearing the proper attire to go to the principle's office, tight black skinny jeans, with a black t-shirt dress, labeled on the front was "I Know What Your Thinking". My hair was properly done for this formal occasion also; it was sleek and straight, with highlights of blues, yellows, purples, and reds.

The hallways were quite and almost scary looking without all the students crowded in it like ants. I was relived to get out of class, and at that moment I was thinking that I was pretty lucky today. Wrong, with a capital 'R'. Out of the bathroom, came a swarm of hornets. They buzzed at be, and were ready to sting. "When's the funeral, freak show?" Rashel said with her preppy cheerleader voice. She was wearing a pink velvet miniskirt, and a white tank top, that almost covered nothing of her body. The way she looked, she was calling attention to a rapist.

Behind her was her clique. Three girls, all blonde and with signs hanging on their neck that read: RAPE ME. Rashel was my same height, and I was staring at her Barbie doll blue eyes.

"With all that hairspray, you're clogging up your brain, 'cause the only freak show here is you." I answered in my bored tone. I pushed her out of my way and kept going to my destination.

"Are you retarded or something? I said… when's… the… funeral? Freak show." I turned to her, seeing that she was twisting a strand of golden hair in her finger. My eyes were the calm purple as they always were. I kept staring at her. "The only funeral around here is going to be yours if you don't shove a tube of lip-gloss in your throat." She rolled her baby doll eyes and said, "Come on girls, we have better things to do then talk to this cheap slut." The queen and the hornets turned away from me, shaking their stingers as they walked. Who's she calling a slut?

I continued to my second home, hoping for no more interruptions. The principle's office was a few yards away, and I quickened my pace. My hand hit the cold door knob and I froze. I took a deep breathe and turned the knob.

"Do you know how many times you've been here, Miss McAllister?" Well no, I truly lost count after the twentieth time. Mr. Dumbler wasn't happy. He was adjusting his tie, which was never a good sign. "Well, do you?" His old green eyes were tired looking, and I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"No sir, I don't recall how many visits I've had." I answered as I looked up to the blank ceiling. "Thirty-two times. In half of the school year." Mr. Dumbler signed. He fell to his big leather chair. "Aren't you tired of Detention Chelsea?" He looked helplessly at me. His eyes were about to cry. He rubbed his balding head and signed again. "I don't know what to do with you Chelsea. I've given you thirty-two chances."

I crossed my legs, and looked at Mr. Dumbler with my board eyes. "Kill me, why don't you." I told him. He didn't look amused. He ignored my comment and continued with his slumbering lecture. "How many times do you have to misbehave?" I looked at him with my best I-don't-give-a-crap look.

"It's helpless with you, Chelsea! Inside one ear and out the other." He stood up suddenly, and walked to the door in his old man pace. "Just…just get out Chelsea. Go to class." I looked at him by glance; his face was carved in heavy disappointment. I stormed out of his office, and out of the school building. What was the point of going to class now? It's been a bad day already, might as well dig the hole deeper.



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