Let's Play A Game. (#Wattys2017)

I Don't Wanna Go.

No. No no no no no no. NO! This cant be happening. You seriously cant be doing this. Its blasphemy! Pure and utter blasphemy. He is THE best character in the whole entire series and you are just going to KILL HIM?! Just like that?! No warning? No Caution tape? Not even an intermission so we can get our tissues?! You suck! You really freaking suck.

I turn the page in the book, and keep my eyes glued to the words. I dont dare breathe. I dont dare move an inch because if I do, I might miss a word. An apostrophe that could change the entire meaning of the novel. He has to confess his undying love for the main character before he dies. He has to. The book wont be complete if he doesn't. Everyone knows its coming.

"You watch me beat it til I cant breathe. Shaking, falling onto my knees. And now that Im without your kisses, Ill be needing-" I jump about a foot off my bed, and send the book flying to the floor. I scramble to the end of my bed and grab my phone off of the nightstand, quickly turning the blaring music off. I do not appreciate being scared to death at 5:30 in the morning by a phone. Especially when I am in the middle of THE most important scene in history and that phone is signaling that it is time to start another year of hell.

I take one last look at the book that is now sprawled out awkwardly on my floor, and decide that I am going to have to get ready before I can finish reading. Man, Mondays really suck.

~

Its not until I am standing under the scalding hot water of the shower that I realize just how exhausted I am. I have been staying up all night for weeks trying to get my summer reading list done, and now that school is finally here, and I am going to be getting up at five thirty, my body no longer wants to cooperate with me. This first week is going to be hell on me.

The shower finally ends and I dry myself off, shake my hair out and slip into my school clothes. A black flowy dress that goes to about mid-thigh, a long black sweater that hangs to my knees, black laced tights that have been ripped to shreds, and my Gothic styled high heeled combat boots. Even in my 4 inch heels, I come in at just over 5'6". I take no time at all to do my makeup, just my foundation, black eye shadow, and a lip gloss. My jewelry take considerably longer since i wear 3-4 necklaces, 10 bracelets on each wrist, and 1 ring for each of my ten fingers.

What? I like my jewelry.

My clock reads just after 6:45 when I finally get all of my curls in just the right spot and hair sprayed down. My jet black hair goes down to the middle of my back so it takes for-flipping-ever to curl. I pin half of my hair up with a black bow, and slowly look myself over in the full length mirror. I have a darker sense of style then most of the people in my school. I like the color black on me, and most people refer to me as goth or emo.

I dont really like to label myself as anything. Im just a girl who loves to read and really enjoys dark clothing.

And I am gonna be late if I dont hurry up and go.

I make sure to turn off my light and grab my leather backpack before shutting the door behind me and making my way downstairs. The halls are silent as I make my way through the house that is too big for one person. Hell, its too big for a family of 8. I live in a mansion. All by myself for 11 out of the 12 months of a year.

I am almost to the top of the stairs, when I realize something.

"Shit," I run back to my room, throw open the door, and onto the other side of my bed where my book is laying open on the floor still. I pick it up and then leave, turning off the light and closing my door. I have 300 pages left in my book and I need to know what happens to my beloved characters.

I make sure that all the lights are off in the house before I lock the door behind me and head out to the driveway where my car is sitting and waiting for me. My baby. My precious. The thing that I cherish more than life itself.

My electric blue, 2015, Dodge Charger.

Black leather interior. Blue stitching throughout everything, and a stereo that can blast any music I care to listen to. She is my everything. The only thing I really have that is mine. Except for my books.

I slide into the car and put my bag into the passenger seat, turning on the ignition and listening to the purr of the engine for a moment before I plug in my iPod and turn it on shuffle. Ex's and Oh's by Elle King comes blasting through my stereo, and a small smile escapes my lips.

Well, if I am going to go to a school where everyone makes fun of me and no one likes me, I might as well go in style.

I leave through the gates of this "proud" gated community and onto the road that leads into town. I live in one of the richest neighborhoods in the state. The ones with huge backyards, magnificent pools, and stuck-up personalities. The neighborhoods where they have cook-outs every weekend on their expensive back patios with only the best steaks and best grills. And why do they do this? Not because they want to have a simple dinner with the family. Hell no. They do it to make everyone believe that their family is perfect, even though it is most likely falling apart at the seams. Every family that owns a jail cell behind those prison bars they call gates makes sure that they let everyone know it any chance that they can get.

Alright. Lets do this.