Little Shadows

The Tree

A/N:
(Y/n) = your name
(U/n) = Uncle's name
(H/l) = hair length
(H/C) = hair color

(Y/n)'s P.O.V:

Everything has a dark side. Even though everyone says "look on the bright side," I tend not to do that, because I don't believe that. I prefer the dark, mostly because it's quite soothing. I like sitting in the shaded parts of the bleachers at school, because the sun's rays bother me.

So when someone asks me if I like night or day more, I always say nighttime. When they ask me why, I say that night is far better than day.

To me, night is better than day because when I was about eleven or twelve, my parents crashed in their car when it was day time. I had been home alone, and the power went out because of the thunderstorm. Before they left, my parents told me they were going out to dinner. They asked if me wanted to go, but I said no. They asked me if I needed someone to watch me while they left, but I had insisted that I'd be fine on my own.

When they never came home that day, I cried silently on my couch, worried about them.
It was when my uncle, (u/n), came to my house and told me my parents crashed in their car.

I had cried the rest of that night, wishing they hadn't left in the first place. I couldn't live with myself, knowing that they were never coming back.

Ever since, I've had depression. And to make everything worse, my uncle put me in an orphanage. I had desperately asked him for him to take care of me, but he refused.

Now I live in an orphanage where the staff are cold and distant from the kids. Even though they get enough food and sleep, the place was boring. The walls were white with no paintings whatsoever. The windows WERE clean, but they were always closed. And all the other kids left eachother alone.

"(Y/N)!" My math teacher, Miss Johnson, shouted. I was slapped back into reality.
"Y-yes?" I stammered, fiddling with my (h/l), (h/c) hair.

"Were you even PAYING ATTENTION?!"

I remained silent, and around me all the kids snickered.

"Fine, I'll repeat it," she said. "If Thomas has thirty bottles of dish soap, and he gives thirteen away to his friends, how much does he have left?"
What was this, kindergarten?
"Thirty, because Thomas has no friends. Therefore, he couldn't have given any away," I said, smirking because I just roasted someone.

Miss Johnson glared at me. "That wasn't correct. And also, Thomas is my son!!" she shrieked, coldly.
Oops. My bad, I had no idea! How about NEXT time, don't ask me stupid kindergarten questions in high school! You brought yourself into this mess!

All the kids around me were silent until the bell rang. "YES, FINALLY! SCHOOL'S OVER!" Screamed Harry Holmes. I quickly got up, getting my stuff. Harry practically jumped out of his seat and pushed everyone out of the way, shoving me to the ground. He didn't even BOTHER to APOLOGIZE! BRUH! Rude!!

Oh and to mention, everyone trampled over me as if I was just another cockroach. BUT I'M NOT! I'M A KID JUST LIKE THEM! And they say I'M the idiot...well, LOOK who just came to town! The mirror of DESTRUCTION! Hahaha!

I mentally laughed and ran out the room and into the hall. That was when someone rudely decided to shove me against the stinky boxes that everyone calls lockers.
"Hey, nerd! Do ya have some FUN FACTS up your sleeves for us??" UGH! It was fricking Danika Cane and her so called group of "friends." Well, they're probably not even her friends. They probably hang with her because they have NOWHERE ELSE TO GO. And she has a butt-load of money. Sucks to be them, I guess.