Chapter 1: The Man Eating Dog

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A/N: Hi Reader! Firstly, thank you for taking your time to click onto my story. Let me tell you, you are in for one hell of a ride! Please be aware, I started this book when I was 14 years old and have not had time to heavily edit. When I get some free time, I will be popping into chapters to edit so please be patient with me. Lastly, please enjoy the book and just have fun.

Chloe Winson

Good Girls Are Bad Girls That Don't Get Caught

© 2012, Chloe Winson

Self-publishing

COPYRIGHT: This story, "Good Girls Are Bad Girls That Don't Get Caught" including all chapters, prologues/epilogues and associated content (i.e fanfics, teasers and content within blogs, social networks and eReaders) is copyrighted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights are reserved by the owner and creator of this work (Chloe Winson) and any unauthorised copying, broadcasting, manipulation, distribution or selling of this work constitutes as an infringement of copyright. Any infringement of this copyright is punishable by law.


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Chapter 1: The Man-eating Dog.

For every stupid decision we make, there's a reason behind it- this being a thoughtless idiot. I guess you were expecting a heartfelt explanation as to why we- as humans, fail at making the right decisions. Well, sorry to break it to you, but I got nothing. The only thing I can say is that some people- like me, have a brain...in their toe.

Instead of sitting in my room and binge watching a Netflix series with my hand box deep in some Cheetos like a normal teenager, I had decided to freeze my plump ass off as I attempt to release my inner Picasso on some old man's brick wall with decorative pictures and words that young children should not repeat.

With one hand, I violently shake the emptying can of red spray paint, the ball echoing loudly inside as the contents slowly come to an end.

The nervous shuffling of feet shifting to my right has me glancing back to send a fleeting glare of annoyance at whoever was causing so much noise. Quickly shaking the can, I got back to work, the tip of my index finger that was pressed against the nozzle had lost all feeling and I half expected it to fall off from frostbite.

"Gwen, they're getting closer!" someone hisses and the feet in my peripheral vision disappear. The hand holding the cloth of my jumper to my nose tightens as I apply more pressure and make rapid motions with my hand in a bid to finish my master peace.

Ever noticed how every little thing distracts you when you're trying to do something. Take right now for instance, the cold wind against my exposed fingers, the scratchy feeling of the loose wool from my jumper scratching against my top lip. But above all, it had to be the heavy breathing of the person behind me, completely taking my focus, just like the damn Internet button. Yeah, you all know what I'm talking about. We've all been there while trying to do our homework, 'turn the Internet off' trick. Does it work? Like hell, does it! I always fool myself into thinking I need the Internet to do the bloody homework! But as soon as you connect and that sucker called Wi-Fi is back on...you're boomed because Facebook just happens to pop up- miraculously without you clicking it. Next thing you know, you're spending the next five hours talking to your friends or watching funny dog videos.

It's quite sad, really.

When the high screeching sounds of sirens pierces through the night air, my right eye twitches as I drop the empty can into the open backpack by my side.

"Okay, I'm done." I state in a whisper as I rapidly begin filling the rucksack with empty cans that had been tossed to the side without a thought of who would have the task of cleaning it up later. I hurry up the pace when another siren sounds, closer than the one before.

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