I sat up with a start, breathing heavily. With a slow blink I forced myself to calm down, what the hell kind of dream was that? I lay in bed for a few more minutes, thinking in circles, with a sigh I turned, looking at the clock on my bedside table. The red numbers read: 12:27, in the afternoon. I grumbled to myself, but forced myself out of the tangled mess of blankets. I wore short shorts and a blue tank top. I had fallen asleep in my clothes, it wasn't really surprising: Shannon's party had lasted till half past four in the morning.
My head buzzed weakly, I knew there had been alcohol in that punch, and now the dizziness I had confirmed it. I sighed again, dragging myself into the bathroom and taking a long shower. The warm water took away the tired feeling that pulsed through me. When I got out, sparkling clean and smelling like strawberries, I felt renewed. I blow dried my hair, letting the back wave its usual way, I had come to the conclusion that my hair would do what it liked, me and my hair instruments had no say. But I forced my side bangs straight; it looked demented if I didn't.
I grabbed some new clothes, and then turned to look at myself in the mirror. I was a typical seventeen year old girl born and raised in Los Angeles. I went to parties, wore designer clothing, and wasn't happy with my life. My mom was always at work, convinced that this mansion was the best thing she could give me, screw love. And my father lived someone. Somewhere, that's all I knew. I was a mistake, a one night fling that changed my mother's life forever, if our positions were switched, I would have hated myself as she did.
The girl with the sad, ocean blue eyes that looked back at me from the mirror didn't feel like me. Her shoulder-length sun-bleached blonde hair, and thin frame, donned by tanned short shorts and a sky blue shirt with clouds on it, both Hollister, that girl wasn't how I felt about myself. I didn't feel beautiful, as all my friends said I was, while they talked badly about me as soon as my back was turned, when all the guys lied and said they had screwed me, and the teachers hit on me. My life was fucked up, I concluded, giving the girl in the mirror a dirty look. She never smiled, never laughed, she was the queen of high school, and everyone wanted her approval.
Those blue eyes looked scornfully at me as I turned away; I wanted to go for a run. I grabbed my blue iPod, blaring Three Days Grace, as I changed into another pair of shorts and a yellow tank top, pulling on my sneakers, grabbing my keys and phone, and running from the white mansion, and the girl with the ocean blue eyes.
AN: YAY! I finally put something up. I'm not completely happy with my writing but it'll get better!