chapter four.

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Eyeing the doors of the infamous 5 start restaurant that was worldwide known for its Italian food and the amount of big celebrities that come to this place to eat out on their breaks. Letting out a sigh in stress, one of my scared hands flew up into my straight dark hair, running that hand through my hair while my eyes narrowed lazily at the wide open doors, they were my worst enemy at the moment

Realising that I might looked like a crazy sick psychopaths in front of a expensive restaurant with eyes narrowed and a hand in my hair while dressed like homeless person for a place like this but then again I was Raven Stone and never really paid much attention to what I wore or what I looked like in any choice of clothes. I leaned to get used to how my life was and started enjoying the small things, not worry about how other people will judge me for what I wear, or how I look or the way I act. I leaned to turn people out and just put my focus on my two brothers and me 

I quickly stopped my thoughts from running wild like they always managed to do when I let lose for a hot second. I pressed my back against the cold hard oak doors before using all the energy that I had in my body and prey them doors open before quickly making a beeline to the back of the restaurant to the small changing room that was suited for women and beside that room their was a room set up for men to change as well

As soon as I stepped into the changing room i made sure to close the door behind me, just in case if I'm changing no one walks in and takes a view on how completely ruined a supernatural body's can get from the abuse they received over the years. My scars didn't make feel insecure about my body but it made me feel strong like a solider that survived a war and managed to crumble out just breathing. But that didn't mean that I was exactly proud to carry these scars around on my body and that led to cover some of them with tattoos that held meanings behind them. These scars told a silent story that I don't know if I will ever have the courage tell anyone about

I flipped on the lights for the dark red walls to shine with the bright light of the bulb. My eyes squinted together to get used to lightening of the room before I walked over to my locker to grab my waitress uniform while also harshly shoving my small bag into the back of locker one I had grabbed

I stepped back with my clothes in hand before dropping my blaze and blouse onto the bench behind me before slipping the short shirt over my long tan legs that had been tattooed over a year ago, hiding the deep fearful scars that littered my skin painful

Pulling the all black skirt up on my legs I was left unsatisfied as it only ended mid-thigh, just barley covering my inner thigh burns, or marks that gazed my ugly thick thighs, that I hated since as long as I hand remember. My hands clenched tightly as I closed my eyes to relax myself, this was normal for me to wear this type of clothing so why was my body overreacting itself today?

Slipping a stressful hand through my hair I just decided that I wouldn't pay much attention to the short uniform shirt that wrapped tightly around my torso, hugging my ass tightly and showing how round and plump my ass was. It was the reason that I would get very uncomfortable lustful looks thrown down at me in this restaurant that was apparently supposed to be friendly towards their waitress and waiter but men seemed to love grabbing woman's asses now a day

I desperately need the money from this restaurant if I want to support my brothers and feed them. I reminded myself the reason why I was doing all of this, not for me but them

Letting out a restricted sigh with my head dropping down my shoulder in defend I grabbed the white tightly like corset blouse and pulled it over my body without letting my eyes glanced at the mirror that was right in front of me. I didn't want to see the scars that filled my body was bad that I couldn't afford to get many tattoos done to cover them marks. I hated every inch of my body, I hated every mark that aligned to my that I could offend find myself gripping a particular scar on my skin before digging my nails painfully inside the flesh as if to somehow rip the scar away from me

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