Living With The Bad Boy [COMPLETE][VERSION ONE]

Chapter 1

(Author's note: Thank you for reading my story!! If you like it [or if you don't] please leave me a comment- constructive criticism is appreciated since this is my first draft and first Wattpad story. I hope you enjoy!)

Author's note x2: This is a reminder to please please please read the newer version of this book before this one! It's called Living With the Enemy and is updated and better written in general.

Scriiiiitch. The long, gnarled fingernails scrape down the cell, sending ripples of fear through my body with each scratch. My heart is pounding so hard I feel like I'm going to choke on it, but I force myself to look up, to face whatever's caging me in. The hand slowly reaches into the bars of the cage, and this time, my eyes travel slowly upwards. The scaly hands are attached to the body of a tall figure hooded with a large, ragged black cloak that ripples when the person beneath it moves. Fear seeps into my bones, slow at first, but speeding up until the wave of terror physically hurts. I don't know why I'm so scared.

"Who- who are you?" My voice shakes, and I can barely get the words out.

The figure laughs, a familiar laugh, and slowly pulls his hood off, to reveal:

"Dad?"

My eyes open automatically and -

Oh my god. I rub my forehead, trying to ease the tension still left from the dream before it causes a migraine, and wipe the hot tears off my face. I shake my head, the pounding in my heart not subsiding a bit. Calm down, Sienna. You're fine.  But I can't calm down, not really, haven't been able to in three years. Not since... I shudder involuntarily, not wanting to think about it. Too many memories resurface when I do.

Wow. Now I really am going to get a migraine.

I spring up from my twin mattress with more energy than I honestly think I have in me after another restless night. It's always the same. I spend hours tossing and turning, and when I finally do get to sleep I'm haunted by nightmares of cages and monsters that always turn back into dreams of the car crash that changed my life and ended my father's.

"Sienna, the bus is going to leave without you if you don't get down here soon!"

Wiping away the last of the tears on my face, I slump downstairs and pour myself a bowl of Froot Loops, forgoing a spoon and instead just shoving handfuls in my mouth as fast as I can before the bus gets here.

I rinse my bowl of froot loops in the icy water. It wastes less electricity that way, and god knows what we'll do if we have to pay any more. My mother is already working three jobs and barely making ends meet. I check my cell phone screen and realize with a jolt that it's 7:45. We only live like 10 minutes away from school but I have trouble enough making the bus every morning, without having to walk. I grab a t-shirt and leggings from the clothesline, throw them on, at the same time brushing my teeth like I'm on steroids and snatching up all of the school papers scattered across our apartment floor. "Have a nice day, Sienna!" My mom calls from her room. Yeah, right. Like that's going to happen. But I call back "Thank you!" anyways because she's just trying to be nice. My mom doesn't know how terrible school is for me and hopefully she never will.

After my hasty departure, I manage to barely make the bus, and I take a seat in the back, my head down. Hoping no one notices me. Unfortunately, that doesn't work. 

            "Hey, Sienna," I hear the syrup-sweet voice of Katie Newman, our school's stereotypical bleach-blonde cheerleader and self proclaimed 'It' girl. "Love your outfit!" she says in her mock-friendly tone. "no ever told me that Dumpster Couture was in style right now."