Author's Note: HOLA AMIGOS Y AMIGAS (terrible Spanish, I know). How are you guys? God, I feel so hyper today. I posted two stories earlier and I am feeling pumped. It's time for my first real Fanfiction commitment: The Chapter Fanfic. Dun Dun Dun Disclaimer: I am not Rick. I OWN NOTHING IN THIS FANFIC BUT THE PLOT AND ANY OC CHARCTERS. Now, onto the story!
I sat there, trying to remember how to breathe. How many times has this happened this week? 6? 7? I quickly got up from the floor, wincing in pain as my side throbbed. It was 5:30 am, almost enough time to get to school. Jason was in the corner, but he ran over to me. "Thalia?" I winced at the pain in his voice.
That lady beat him. No no no. Never him. She never beats Jason. I looked him up and down. Bruises on his stomach and a ripped tee shirt. He took it off, ripped it into long, slender shreds. Thank he began wrapping my wrist. I knew he was trying hard not to wince in pain from his bruises. He shouldn't even know what it feels like! My hatred for the monster we had to call our mother was astounding.
Bring home any man stupid enough to love her.
Never caring for us.
Always being a stupid alcoholic.
At least our father sends us money every week. He's a better parent then she is!
Then, I remember our groceries. I get up slowly. "Jason, get some rest, clean up, eat, and then go to school. I'm going out to get some groceries really quickly." For once, he doesn't argue, and just goes shower.
-Later at Walmart-
I get the stuff, pay and walk out. A stupid guy, who tried flirting with me earlier, drunk, walks up to me and says, "Want to go my place, hot stuff?" I turn around, my mouth open to tell him off, but a friend of his whispers something in his ear. Now glaring at me, the drunk screams, "FREAK!" before kicking my groceries and walking away. I start picking up the stuff. When someone walks over and helps me. I look up, trying to see if I know the person, but he looks unfamiliar. He had pale, olive skin, and dark brown-almost black eyes. He was about the same height as I was with impossibly dark pitch-black hair. As I size him up, I conclude that he's new. Why else would he be helping me? After all, I'm a freak. A monster.