She was a rebel, the one your parents didn't want you to hang around. Her sister was the same, the one that gave you a good time if you asked. They were the sisters with a bad reputation, the bad influences and the stereotypical badasses of the scho...
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Hillary's POV
"How are you feeling today?" Was the first thing I heard once I had taken my seat in the first period. I sighed and dropped my bag onto the floor without care for whatever was inside, I don't even remember half the shit I put in there, my phone might even be lost in there somewhere.
I glanced at the Cullen next to me, he was obviously waiting for a short answer from me, and that was all he was gonna get, "fine." I grumbled under my breath, leaning my arms onto the table and trying to get some rest before the class started.
My eyes were closed but I could feel the gaze he was giving me which made me open my eyes just to glare at him. He didn't look away, instead, he chose to stare at my cheek. I narrowed my eyes as a thought came to my mind, he could see my bruise. I quickly covered my face with a hand and grabbed my bag, dashing past the teacher and out the door.
"Where do you think you're going?" I heard him call after me but I ignored him and made a beeline to the toilets. How could I have been so stupid as to let my makeup come off? Now Cullen will tell his siblings and then I'll be the talk of the town, the girl who lets herself be abused by her own father.
I burst through the door to the girl's toilets and grabbed onto the closest sink to keep me from falling to my knees. My breathing was rapid as I was on the verge of a panic attack that I was trying so hard to control. I felt the tears make an unwelcome appearance in my eyes but I would never let them fall.
I looked up, into the mirror before me. I saw a broken girl staring back. She was pale with bags under her eyes, a hand was placed on her cheek that was hiding a probably very noticeable bruise. She looked terrible.
I took my hand away and stared at the fresh mark my dad gave me. My makeup must have come off during our walk to school, I wasn't used to the crap on my face so I continuously rubbed my face to get rid of the constant inches.
I let out a huff that almost could have sounded like a growl, out of annoyance. I had messed up for the thousandth time this week.
As I stood there I began to calm down, I stopped thinking about dad, Martha, or Cullen. I stopped thinking altogether and slid down the wall, I had a clear view of the door, of whoever might walk in on my breakdown.
I was surprised nobody had opened the door and walked in, but I spoke too soon as I watched the door swing open slowly without complaint. The girl looked familiar with her black hair and pink glasses. A camera hung by her side and books were clutched to her chest like they would protect her from anything.
She stopped and stared at me with wide eyes. I probably looked like a mess, my knees hugged to my chest and a huge black and yellow mark covering the right side of my face as if it always belonged there, I despised it.
