"BUZZZ!", the alarmclock on my bedside table went off, loudly making it's presence known.
"Shut uh-huh-up", I whined, reaching a arm toward it and fumbling for the off button. Opening my eyelids slowly, my eyes became adjusted to the light streaming in through the windows. Since moving into the new house, I hadn't been able to hang my curtains up yet.
'It's going to be top priority when I get home', I thought bitterly, glaring out the window and seeing the brown landscapes, which had a few trees covering it. Moving from New York to an entire different climate and slightly different time zone had been a pain, even worse had been leaving behind my friends. Becky Newswick had been friends with me since we were in preschool, not even mentioning that we had been to each other's birthday parties since we were five.
Now I was going to have to go to an entirely different school, filled with dramatic, soap opera girls and big muscled guys making themselves look like idiots. I had to go through that when I started high school two years ago, I really didn't want a repeat of the experience. Unfortunately, my father's business had made him move to this god forsaken state.
'Speak of the devil, he should be barging in here any minute to remind me to get my ass up', I reminded myself, pulling the the cover off me. As if on que, a large pounding started coming from my door, along with a shout.
"Kerri! Get up now, don't make me come in there and get you!", I shuddered at his voice, and quickly replied. I heard his footsteps walk away from my door and I got out of my bed and walked over to the pile of boxes that were in a corner of the room. We had literally moved in yesterday, leaving me little time to unpack my clothes, books, and other personal items. My furniture had been put in it's places, making the dark blue room slightly closer to looking like my one back in New York.
I rummaged through the cardboard boxes, pulling out a pair of black jeans, baggy down at the bottom, and skin tight at the thighs. I found my shirt-filled box and grabbed my red and black 'My Bloody Valentine' t-shirt out of it. Finally I went to a slightly smaller box and found my rubber bracelets, a blue one saying 'WTH', and a white one with a black 'FUCK' on it, and then I pulled out my black fingerless gloves, and I was ready to face my new school.
I hate categorizing people, but I suppose you would have to put me in the emo/goth scene. After putting on my clothes, I went over to my dresser, which had a mirror attached to it and squinted into the reflective surface. I put on my black eyeliner, mascara, and straightened my hair. I have black hair, dyed, which goes down to my shoulders, along with alabaster white skin. 'Though I suppose that is going to change', I thought dryly, glancing out the window again at the bright sunlight.
I finally put my contacts in, which made my hazel eyes turn slightly bluish, greenish, brownish, kinda like when you look at a forest at dusk. My eyes had always been changing color, depending on the color of the shirt I was wearing, the light of the room, or even my mood. But my contacts were the only thing that could make them the freaky multi-color they were now.
I finished touching up my makeup, and grabbed my empty school bag as I headed downstairs. The house my dad bought was two stories with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, both of which were on the second floor, and a humongous living room. All for just two people, my dad and I. I think my dad just bought it to show off how much money he has. Which, due to being a CEO of the company he works with, he has a lot of.
Going down the steps, I went through my phone, deleting the phone calls I had and messages. My friends had started texting me an hour ago to see how I was doing. I smiled as I replied to them, and then put the cell phone in my back pocket.
I went into the kitchen and immediately was greeted with a smack across the face. My father was already standing at the kitchen table, dressed in his suit for work, his dark brown hair combed neatly, and his jaw squared. His arm was pulled back as if to hit me again.
"Bitch, I thought I told you to be up at 8, what time is it?", my father yelled at me. I should have known he would be waiting in the kitchen for me. I glanced at the clock he had just recently put up, probably for what was happening presently. It read 8:10. I gulped, "Um, ten after eight".
He back handed me, "Don't answer me with that smart tone", he growled, grabbing my arm and throwing me at the door that lead out to the driveway.
"Now get in the fucking car, I don't want to be even later than I already am, my assistant called me and said that I had a meeting at 8:30", he marched right behind me, stomping on my black sandaled feet once or twice.
Yeah, I forgot to tell you, my father abuses me.