Falling

Chapter One: Falling

     {A/N I'm Baaaccccckkkkkkk. I'm sorry for my absence, but here is the first chapter of my new-ish book. Thank you guys for giving it a chance. I want this to be my first published book, so please-please-pleaseeee spread the word.}

"Belle! Get up! You're gonna be late for school!"

         As the untarnished sunlight filtered through the windows of the Reeves' House, Annabelle opened her eyes and stretched out across her queen-sized bed, waking up as women do in movies sometimes. She was flawless, unruly dark locks surrounding pale skin, cheeks flushed red with the weight of morning. She was perfect, that is, until the mountain of black pillows that covered the head of her bed rained down on her. The shock jolted her from the fog of sleepiness that had covered her since the moment her eyes opened.

         After a series of gasps, shrieks, and groans, she finally found a way out of the prison. Although still just as beautiful, her waist-length, black hair was now a tangled mop on her head. Muttering curses at the world; and the gravity that made the pillows tumble, Belle connected her phone to the speaker dock in her bathroom. As she scrolled through her playlists, she found the one that, four years ago, she'd labeled 'School' and hit play all. Rock music immediately filled the small bathroom. She twisted a knob until the music pulsed through the bedroom as well, calming her morning nerves.

         She opened the door surveying her clothes. A sea of dark colors stared back at her. Nothing in her closet contained the bright yellows, pinks, or florals that her grandmother used to force on her. She'd gotten her fashion sense from her mother, from the band tees to her combat boots. Without hesitation, she pulled out a shredded band tee and a pair of torn and frayed white jeans with a red paint-like substance dripping down the front, sides, and back like blood. Her outfit, accented by a chain hanging from her left hip, down her thigh, and back to the belt loop, found at the back center of her jeans.

         It was odd. Belle didn't remember much of her grandmother. Her father's side of the family had been nearly nonexistent for years, despite her mother being closer to her mother-in-law than to her own family. Belle remembered her Baba coming around when she was a kid, but it soon ceased. Perhaps it was due to wanting nothing to do with Lucifer. Baba was a sharp lady. She probably knew what he was before the incident ever occurred.

Although it was the first day of her senior year, she wasn't the type to go all out when it came to dressing. She was casual, a woman that preferred comfort over beauty. She finished her daily routine, showering, brushing her teeth, managing her disobedient, black curtain of hair, and moisturizing, before applying her eyeliner and blood-red lipstick, all wrapped in a fuzzy, silver towel. Although she was stunning, she never thought of herself as such, so she'd never indulged in expensive makeup. If it hadn't been for her extremely persistent best friend Tanks years ago, she probably wouldn't wear any at all. The makeup she wore now, although only out of habit, was cheap (free) and easy to obtain (...borrowed... from her mother's makeup satchel). Finally, after going back to her closet to grab a pair of socks and her black, military-grade combat boots, she began slipping her clothes on, careful to avoid smudging her eyeliner or getting lipstick on her favorite musicians face.

Just as she finished dressing, a horn that had grown to be insanely familiar over the summer sounded outside. Belle walked over to her second-story window and looked down at the street below. The driver side door of a silver Suburban opened and out stepped someone that Belle had come to know very well. She couldn't help but smile as she recognized the face as belonging to her boyfriend of 4 years, Alex. He was handsome and very well built. He sported a head of thick, wavy blonde hair, golden eyes, a squared jaw and shoulders, along with muscles that rippled under soft, tanned skin and a smile that could melt the heart of the coldest old ladies in the world. She opened her window halfway.