Average.

So... This is something I came up with today when I skipped school with people and went to our place. Whoops, don't lecture me about how school is important please?

I hope on finishing this, probably try to update every two-three days because I'm lazy?

Hoping the coding works, as usual criticism is welcome. I know I have trouble with past and present tenses.

~~~

Average.

I hated high school. Teenagers all desperately trying to get noticed, girls developing into harlots, guys forming into young cunts. Fun on a bun, right?

Don't think that this is one of those sappy, relatable 'high school gave me depression or low self esteem' love stories that ends in the most cliché way.
No. This is different.

Okay, at first it's going to seem so cliché, but bear with me. Trust me, it'll get different.

My name is Anastasia, this is how I became someone I vowed I would never become.


Chapter 1.
Compulsive Liar.

So, I'll skip the whole 'I woke up to my alarm blaring' crap. We see it all the time.

This was an average day. As usual.

I wake up and dress in my school uniform. Simple, drab. The school decided everything would change when we merged with the primary school closest to us.

Everything did.

We adapted this stupid private school name. We adapted 'tailor made' uniforms that looked like a toad was sacrificed to make them.

They voted in shirts consisting of a mix of 'charcoal', 'lavender' and 'jade'. Bull.

I grumble as I search my bag for my school shirt, throwing it on over my oversized Nirvana jacket. I love that jacket. It covers up my scars perfectly. I quickly head to the bathroom and apply my make up, ruffling up my short pink hair.

"Anastasia Rose come here right now!" Melissa screeches from the kitchen.

I cringe, nothing good ever comes from this.
You got that right love.
Oh shut it you, I don't need this today..

Yeah, I have a voice in my head. My alter ego.

I slowly make my way to the kitchen, knocking on every door on my way to wake up all the other kids.

"Anastasia, did you do this?" Melissa points angrily to a burn stain in the sink. Whoops.
Yup, our fault. Not even sorry.

"Nope. You know me, I can't even touch a lighter without cringing..." I lie.

I guess it's partly true though... When I was younger I was in a house fire. My entire back is a mash of burn scars and grafted skin. That is how I lost my parents.

"Whatever. Present." Melissa folds her arms over her chest as I roll up my sleeves. Melissa squints, trying to figure out if any are recent.

"You're good. Here's bus fare for today. Go." Mel is sharp, shoving $5 in my hands.
Oh darn, no 'I love you?' from my favourite caretaker in this God forsaken boarding house?

I quickly run for the bus, grabbing out my make up wipes as I run. After I pay my fare and take my seat, I start scrubbing at my arms.

Hey, I never said I applied the make up to my face, did I?

Guess I should really explain, right?

My parents died when I was young, about seven. Now I'm fourteen. It was a house fire, coincidentally on Friday the 13th. Shock horror, I was the only survivor. Barely, mind you. I was hospitalized for quite a while..

I've had 'self mutilation disorder' since I was eight. I've lived 'under government care' since I was nine. My aunt shoved me in it when she found out I harmed myself. She thought I was a psychopath.

You are a psychopath sweetie...
Whoops, maybe I am.