Epilogue
Whiskey tainted morning breath swimming across her dimly lighted room from the too harsh hallway chandelier light was usually how her morning began. The breath from a drunk man's mouth pooling around her nostrils like the smoke from her cigarettes was not foreign to her, in fact, she is almost too acquainted with the experience for a girl her age.
...
The world is a filthy place, it's polluted by dumbasses that don't know whether their going or coming. They litter the earth like trash at a dump yard, it's almost impossible to find a spot on this goddamned planet they don't infest themselves. Maggots. All of them are like maggots to him. Squirming uselessly and disease filled taking up precious space where the important people should stand. People that can change the world if they wanted and change it for the better.
Tate, like most mornings, is leaning against the wall just outside the school entrance were the rest his of classmates sit and spew their teenage babble bullshit until the bell rings and beckons them inside. He studies them. Studies them all. People interest him in a way most would deem psychologically unhealthy, but it isn't like any one of them sparks a real flame in him. After a while he finds them all stereotypical, he realizes he can tell what they're going to do and how they react to most things before they even do it. But yet like a habit he can't break, he still stands there each morning waiting for someone to light that flame inside him. He's always waiting for that one person to prove him wrong, to break the teenage stereotype.
It was September 23, 2011 that he finally found the person who would strike the match to a fire that would end up consuming him, burning him alive but he loves the pain in a sadistic type way.
He thinks what got his attention is her hair. Swept under a hat with blonde locks that caught the light in such a way they seem to shine gold. She was glowing, and she eclipsed all around her with her fierce eyes that didn't falter even under the most venomous of stares being shot at her. He knew at once she was different, with her numerous layers of tights, a long sleeved shirt topped with a dress, and pulled together with a hat and cigarette hanging from her mouth. In truth, she looked like a 4 year old that got dressed in the dark and her breathtaking features clashed in comparison with her mix-match apparel. So there she was, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, shining like the sun and storming through the school lot, not giving any notice to the hostility she has bubbling around her, and why should she? What they thought about her was just words, they didn't matter. Smoke tumbling from her pouty red lips is what caught the brunet's attention. Nudging for the two lackeys she was talking to for back up, they storm up to her like a cliché in a chick flick. He scoffs at the unoriginality and unfairness in the attack but doesn't intervene, he wants to see what the blonde will do because for the first time he just doesn't know. He doesn't like the feeling of not being able to efficiently detect what will happen before it does but the search is a rush.
After the accusation of breaking a "student council rule" about smoking the blonde says something inaudible to Tate's ear then drops the cigarette putting it out with the toe of her boot.
"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?" the brunet bitch demands.
Tate shakes his head at the bimbo as she leans down to scoop up the still slightly lit bud and wave it around in the blonds face.
"People sit there, they eat here." She continues with her rant.
Tate found he unintentionally moving closer to the fight, closing in on it. Because of this he heard the blonde say "You don't know me, why are you doing this?" It's funny he was wondering the same thing.
"Eat it." The ringleader says next, cool and easily like it's something she says on a daily basis.
"What? No!" she says in protest, disgusted this girl has the audacity to tell her what to do let alone something so vulgar.
One of the brain dead followers who was previously mute tugs on her elbow slightly ushering Leah to come along calling it quits. Leah. So that's her name. Tate's watched her before too but hasn't cared enough to learn her name. She's a rich coke whore who brags about her addiction and sexual encounters, probably secretly hoping word leaks through to her parents and they feed her some kind of parental attention at all opposed to money.
"NO, NO! I WANNA SEE HER EAT IT!" She declares, arm hooking around her neck and pushing the bud towards her mouth.
That's when the petite teen snaps, clawing at the hand attempting to force feed her, her own cigarette she collects bile in the back of her throat and flings a thick sticky glob of spit into the screeching face of the bitch.
Spinning on her heels and through a whirlwind of her own locks she takes off toward the school, ignoring the multiple threats of revenge but turns around to give her a shit eating grin. Tate doesn't thinks he's laughed this hard in a while, she spit in her mouth. She wasn't afraid or shaken, that was a game to her, like a little something to spice up her day.
Tate thought that was the day he found someone he could finally call friend. Little did he know that he not only found the girl that could change the world but bring it to its knees with a bar of her eyelashes. She could dazzle the world, and he found eventually she did.
Continue? And OH MY FUCKING GOD AHS 3 IS PERFECTION AND IT PHYICALLY HURTS .