Orelia Foster never thought that she would escape.
She never thought that one day, someone would come and take her away from the man who's had her most of her life.
Who only cares about the money he can make off of her.
That's how most foster par...
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❀ 𝑂 𝑅 𝐸 𝐿 𝐼 𝐴 ❀ (ᴜɴꜰᴀɪʀ - ɴʙʜᴅ)
Son of a bitch.
The cheerleader from before had deliberately tried to trip me when I tried walking past her and her large group of friends.
I could hear them snickering behind me as I pushed down the urge to spin around and yell at her.
But today and everyday, I'll be keeping my head down. Try to go unnoticed. Try to be the girl people ask "who?" To whenever my name is mentioned.
I don't want to attract attention. I just want to get through this year and be done.
I pull Rogue's hood further down my head as I push the door to the school open and step inside.
Im immediately hit with a rush of cool air, touching my skin and causing goosebumps to pop up even through the thick sleeves of the hoodie.
I shiver, stuffing my hands into my pockets and keeping my eyes on my flip flops, only glancing up to scan the dark corridor, where only a few people linger, talking to there friends or doing something in there dark blue lockers.
It's oddly calming. The flickering lights up above and the quiet chattering voices.
I pass the classrooms lining the hall, graffiti covering some of the doors. I smile lightly at a sticker of a flower.
"Do you think he'll like my skirt today?" I hear a voice sound out from behind me. I restrain from looking over my shoulder to see who it is..
"Oh please. He won't even pay attention to you." The voice that answers sounds stuck up and snobby. I can hear her popping her gum as I walk in front of them.
For some odd reason, I feel like I know exactly who's speaking. The cheerleader from before who tripped me.
The girl who spoke first doesn't respond and I kind of feel bad.
At least I know now what people to watch out for.
Im walking so quickly without looking up that I don't watch where I'm going and soon, I'm crashing into someone and stumbling back, having to catch myself.
The person who I bump into let's out a humph sound before they fall to the ground, not being able to catch themselves like I did.
Their bookbag must have been unzipped because all of the contents spill out across the hall, bumping up against the bottom of lockers, pencils rolling every which way and towards peoples feet.
