Just imagine it. A warless world. Kind words from every corner. Smoke not filling our lungs. Drugs being completely gone from our eyes and ears. When death is just as peaceful, too. Everyone is treated as they should be. Beauty is all that's natural and plastic surgery is performed on those who actually need it. Imagine living pollution-free. A world where knowledge is accepted.
Too bad it's only imaginary. I wouldn't mind living in a world like that. I wouldn't see this hell. I wouldn't cherish pain because it's the only thing that never leaves. My family already has. My friends are already gone too. My adopted family might accidentally drop me off at a crack house instead of the library or bookstore. Too bad that my imagination just loves to run wild.
"C'mon, Dumbass. Mom's going to be here soon." My foster sister, Emily barked, blowing me out of my thoughts.
I hastily dashed to her side. At the wrong moment too. She had flicked her long lustrous golden hair as soon as I stood beside her. She glared at me with her dark brown eyes. Emily likes making me feel small. Not that I'm all that big anyways.
"Hey Emily. Hey Dumbass." Jordan greeted as he strolled out the exit of the Dick's Sporting Goods beside the beauty parlor.
The broad-shouldered, massively muscled, perfectly tanned douche bag just has to be my foster brother, Jordan. He was the one who came up with my rude nickname, Dumbass. He does realize that I'm not a stupid donkey, right?
I rolled my eyes as the two siblings began rambling away about how excited they were for the pool party they will be attending tonight. They always went to parties together. They're best friends and apart of the "cool" crowd. I beg to differ about the whole "popularity rules" thing.
"How was the library, Dumbass?" Jordan asked.
"Like you actually care." I grumbled.
Here we go again. Every sine time I admit in any way that I doubt he cared, he behind this long, tiresome, annoying speech, saying he actually does care. I rolled my eyes again, mumbling the answers he wants to hear.
I was greatly relieved to see my foster mom's black Ford Expedition with its bumper stickers. As usual, I climbed to the very back. Jordan and Emily hated sitting next to me. Always making arguments saying they don't want to catch my disease. I don't have any sort of disease. My immune system is quite strong and I haven't been diagnosed with anything life threatening or any mental disorders. Sure I sometimes believe I might be bipolar but my foster parents haven't been too worried and haven't taken me to a psychiatrist.
"Stay back there, Dumbass. I don't want to become crazy." Emily growled in her beyond annoying high-pitched squealing voice.
"Emily, be nice to your brother. He doesn't do anything to you." Her mother said.
"You'd be surprised, Mom." Emily spoke in a low tone.
Is she seriously trying to get me grounded? I don't do anything to hurt her. Heck, I help her paint her nails! Of course, her mother grew concerned.
"I simply warned you that Ciel isn't so perfect, Mom."
"Has he been hurting you?"
"Not at home."
"Ciel, get out of my car." Mrs. Brown barked like a Rottweiler.
I quickly climbed out. I didn't bother protesting. I'm the suicidal adopted son. Nobody will ever see past my scars. They only see a psychotic maniac.