It was only about 4:51 A.M and already the day was rotting away to hell. My eyes cracked open slightly, the sunlight blinding me momentarily. I groaned and looked around. Everything looked so blurry. I rolled over on my side, trying to ignore the real world, but of course my bitch of an iPhone had to remind me that I couldn't just laze around like I normally would, and had to go to that horrendous place known as Hokkaido Sapporo Minami High School. Well, since I don't have the patience to repeat that mouthful, why don't we just abbreviate it to HSMHS, okay?

"Looks like I forgot to close the blinds again.." I whispered hoarsely. My throat was still raw from last night's fight with my parents. I couldn't help it. They were planning on moving to Kyoto, and of course I had no say in anything. So I fought for my rights as teenager and fought for my place and judgment in family's decisions. I deserved the right anyway. Besides, why would they want to move to that old crusty dust bag anyway? It's only full of historical landmarks and old buildings and crap like that, but I guess that would be appealing to dad, considering he's a historian. God, sometimes I hate how his whole life revolves around the history of this country.

I tiredly rubbed my bloodshot eyes. It was pretty evident that there were dark opaque lines under them. The fight managed to eat up the entire time I should've been sleeping so I only got to fall asleep around 2 am. I normally went to bed then anyway, but I would've been less cranky if I was doing what I normally did instead of wasting time and energy trying to adjust their solid decision. I could care less, I'm not moving.

After I was fully awake I looked around the room, noting all the imperfections about it that helped create who I was. Piles of dirty clothes strewn around the room, dirty dishes on my desk, dim lighting, writing scrawled on my dresser mirror in different sharpie pen colors (most used colors being red and black), and stains all over the carpet.

I let my eyes wander to the stains, the trail leading from my lovely Queen sized bed across the floor over to my superficial bathroom. I had always told my parents that it was paint. I've lied and said it was paint so many times that even I was slowly beginning to believe that I was telling the truth. Everyone whoever asked was told that it was some basic form of red paint, which the immediate variation in hues would fool them. They always believed me. Yet, it was so simple. They shouldn't believe someone like me.

I'm a Liar.

I slithered from under the comforters and sheets, tossing them aside and slipping my legs over the edge of my bed. I reached into my thick, matted, pale red locks of hair and scratched at my scalp. I had my hair up in a loose and sloppy bun. I'll tell you this; I was never good with looking girly. Mama always said I looked so cute with my hair in a bun or in pigtails. It's funny 'cause I never believed her anyway. Maybe lying runs in the family.

Tiredly, I walked to my bathroom, dodging whatever crap was on my floor. I had come so accustomed to my room being a pigsty that I just knew where everything was in it and could dodge it in my morning fatigue. Mind you, despite how I live like a slob in my room, I do watch my hygiene and keep my bathroom nice and tidy. I instinctively flipped the switch in the bathroom, turning on the artificial daylight bulbs. I don't find natural light as comforting and useful as that of manmade mechanics, I hate the sun, after all. As my eyes adjusted I looked up into the mirror at my appearance. I looked...Horrid. I was wearing a solid black tank top that stuck to my little figure and very skimpy, stretchy, bright red shorts with the words 'Bubble Pop!' written across the ass cheeks. Very classy might I add.

I always hated this time of the morning because I hated looking at myself. I hated myself, but I just can't bring myself to end my life. I can't because Meiko and Kiyoteru, Mom and Dad, have worked so hard for me to be where I am today. I'll go into talking about Mom and Dad while I'm on my walk to school, but for now, let me introduce myself.

'Sup, I'm Miki Hiyama, and I'm in 11th grade, which in Japan is my second year of High school. So I suppose in America, I would be a sophomore. Or would I be a junior? Now that I think about it, indeed, I would be a junior. Our school system is different from the one in America. In Japan, you are in elementary from 1-6, then in middle 7-9, last being high school, which is 10-12. Right now I'm 17, and as you already can infer, I hate my life.

I stared at myself in the mirror, a long, hard, cold glare. I couldn't bear to look at my ugly body. I tore my eyes away from the horrible image before me and reached a hand into one of the drawers, pulling out a razor blade. "Go down the road, not across the street, Miki. Oh wait, since when do you listen to what you're told?" I snarled at myself, holding the blade in between the index finger and thumb of my left hand. I gladly slid the blade across my wrist. Oh God, how good it felt. I smiled at the pain. I loved to tear my veins open. I love to shred them apart. I think I suffer from sadomasochism.

I winced the third or fourth time I slid the blade across my arm. I must've cut too deep that time. Honestly, I'm not sure if I did, nor do I care too much. I've become so numb to the feeling that this is basically the average routine; I cut them, they heal and it all just falls into place like a useless game of cat chases mouse. I finally stopped when my vision began to go fuzzy and spots began to cloud it, but I managed to wrap a bandage around my arm before something drastic happened to me.

Now that I've done that it's about time I get ready for school. I lazily exited the bathroom; of course I forgot to turn off the light. It's a habit of mine, and I can't seem to break it. After tiptoeing over crap strewn about I reach my walk-in closet, and of course my uniform was ironed and pressed, waiting for me on the first rail to my left. "Mom must've ironed it for me." I scowled. I hated it when she ironed my clothes. I liked looking like a slum, thank you. Reluctantly, I undressed out of my skimpy stripper sleepwear and grudgingly slipped into my cream colored skirt that only seemed to barely cover my thighs. I swear, high school uniforms were always so revealing, I just couldn't stand it. Of course, all the other girls, regardless of how short the skirt is already, tucked the hem up a few times, just to look more like the sluts that I know they are. As you can probably tell by now, I hold a lot of resentment in my heart. Next I grabbed my bra. Ha ha, unlike people I know who sleep in their bras, I could care less. I think they sleep in their bras because apparently they believe, "If someone comes in, I don't want my boobs drooping in my shirt!" shit, who cares? Anyway, I will tell the truth and say that I am a small size, but doesn't mean I have to tell you the specifics. I slipped the straps over my shoulders and then grimaced at it. It was a dull pink and was lacy; very lacy, with a little bow in the center. God I hated it when Mom went shopping for me.

Next I pulled on my white blouse, flipping the collar up for a moment so I could button it up. I hated buttons too. I hated a lot of things. I always fumbled with the openings and the button wouldn't go through and I would get frustrated. I hate them, okay? After a few more attempts with the top button I got it, finally. I reached for my bright red colored tie, wrapping it around my neck and professionally tying it. This was one of the only additions of the uniform that I actually loved.

Lastly, I pulled my arms through my cream colored blazer, buttoning from the center down. I like to leave some buttons at the top undone to show off my tie. I walked out of the closet, remembering to flip the switch and then stalked over to my dresser. I opened the drawer, and let me tell you, everything was jumbled up and rummaged through. I can never keep clothes folded for long. I pulled out a pair of white tights. God, they were such a pain. Sometimes Mom would accidently buy me mediums, which I don't know why it was such a big problem, I mean; she knows how tiny I am! But yeah, she buys me mediums, so I always end up giving her the tights and stockings she buys for me. I swear she purposely buys me the mediums 'cause she knows I'm gonna end up giving them to her anyway. I know this for a fact because the stockings and tights she buys are always her style; red, black, or lacy.

For once in my life, she bought me the right size. I stretched on the stockings, the lace on the ends of them scratching at my thighs. I disregarded it easily, groaning as I pulled myself off the floor and stalked back over to the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror once more. No matter how hard I may try (That's not very hard actually) I still have that burning passion of hatred towards myself. I grimaced. I'm just gonna have to live with it.

My hair wasn't as matted as I was expecting. What I mean by matted is..Well…You know those times where your dog gets those huge knots under their ears? Well, it depends if your dog has curly fur and floppy ears from what I've noticed, but you get what I mean! Anyway, that's the type of matted I'm talking about. But I was actually very surprised about my hair. I always kept it in a shitty bun, but it always manages my unkempt ways to taking care of it. I pull out the scrunchy, tossing it aside on my countertop and grabbing a wire brush from the brush drawer. Surprisingly enough, I was organized too. I think I have these types of mood swings when I'm on my period, and I just have OCD for those entire 5 to 7 days.

Yeah, that's right. I just told you about my period. So what? You're the one that decided to listen to my life story anyway. Ugh..You made me digress. Oh yeah, so I'm brushing my hair thoroughly and getting out whatever knots are there. I grabbed my bright red scrunchy and tied it back in a bun, this time brushing out my bangs to frame my face. I never let my hair out, it makes me overheat. Soon I reach into my makeup pouch and pull out the eyeliner. Trust me now, I don't cake on my make up to cover my entire face. All I do is dab some powder on there to cover my acne and then line around my eyes. I did the eyeliner first today. I yanked off the cap and placed it lightly on the counter, it landing with a small 'tap!'

I line under my eyes, adding thicker lines towards the middle and thinning them out towards the corners. I don't line my upper lid; it's always too much work. Don't call me girly either! I only put on eyeliner to give myself that look that says 'Don't fuck with me', okay? Following suit, I drag small wings from each corner, making stunning cat eyes. This is one of the only forms of makeup I'll wear, so get used to it. Next I pulled out a bristly, large brush and I dusted it over my right temple. That's where most of my acne happens. So far since I've started using Proactiv I've only had 1 pimple that's too stubborn to go away. I might as well name it Miki Jr.

And Yes, I do somewhat care about my skin and how it looked. The only reason why is because when I was younger in junior high, I had the maximum acne and along with it, bright pink braces. Everyone always made fun of me, calling me that same old childish nickname; Pizza Face. So of course I would be insecure about how I look, well, skin wise. My clothes I could care less about. I looked in the mirror one last time before turning on my heels, bounding out of the bathroom. Oh My God! Guess what!? I remembered to turn off the light! Props for Miki!

I stopped by a small pile of papers stacked untidily on the floor. I rummaged through, looking for the 9 pages of my English report. "Damn…Where are you, you monster?" I rummaged through the stack, flinging anything unrelated to the side, slightly covering up the faded stains on the carpet. Ah! Yes!

Finally! All 9 pages of the worthless English report were found and gracefully stuffed into the pocket of my bag. Look. I'm in a hurry, so I don't have time to worry about organization! I plucked my phone off of the Chester drawer, clicking the slightly concave circle in the center to see that it was 5:12. I looked at my phone, pulling off the case to check its back. You see, when I leave my case on for too long (which it was a bright red Minnie Mouse case with cherries around her. My favorite character ever is Minnie. Never question it. Or I will kick you in the throat.) The marble-like back always gets a little grimy, so I'm just checking. Anyway, since I wasted time doing that I charged towards the door, of course I slipped on a paper that I had flung.

"S-Shit!" I shouted, falling flat on the floor. Ha, well at least my face broke the fall. Who am I kidding, that fucking hurt. I bitterly got to my knees, rubbing my sensitive nose in the process. God it stung. I whimpered, pulling myself up from the ground and resentfully storming out of my room, slamming the door behind me. I continued on my way, jogging down the hallway and jolting down the staircase. I was in a hurry. I gripped the railing, hoping to not fall this time around. I reached the bottom, throwing my bag onto the couch and gripping my phone in hand, walking into the kitchen and quickly passing both my mother and father.

"Well good morning to you too, Hot Head." I heard my Mom hiss. She was sitting at the table next to Dad. She looked like a worn out, old, russet brown towel. There were dark circles rimming her eyes and she looked obviously drowsy. Her hair was tussled and was messy, but since it was kept short only a few strands looked out of place. She mostly looked fluffy. Mom had her elbow resting on the table, head leaning on her fist while the nails of her left hand were tapping angrily against the cherry wood. Dad's eyes flicked back and forth from me to Mom back to me and falling on Mom again, until he let his eyes fall back to his newspaper. He just tried to stay out of this. He could sense that the air between Mom and me right now was tense.

Dad just sipped his coffee; and might I add that he looked just as scruffy as Mom. They both were clad in their black robes, which underneath I don't even want to know. I bet Mom's wearing a thong and her lacy nightdress while Dad's wearing boxers. AAAAAH! My eyes…I really want to shoot myself in the temple right now. Well any who, putting that aside, I'm surprised they got up this morning to even see me off. They both were only up to make sure I would head off safe, but in truth they go off to work at around 7:30 or 8.

"Good Morning, Mom." I hissed through clenched teeth. My knuckles were getting very pale with how tight I was scrunching my fists. I really just wanted to jump across the breakfast table and tackle her to the ground and scream my decision in her face, but since I was raised differently, I'm just going to take the safe route.

"So, have you thought about my decision-?"

"No, I don't pay attention to silly things like that." She darted daggers back at me; fire meeting fire. Her eyes were more of a chocolate brown, but you could definitely see the maroons and crimsons in there, and besides, she always claimed her eyes and hair were both russet. I think she dyes it, but I have no room to talk with the fact that my hair is cherry red with the matching eye color. I swear, digressing is totally my thing, you know?

Anyway, I clenched my fists tighter. My nails ferociously dug into my skin, making me cringe. "Why is that?" I always tend to speak more sophisticated when I'm angry at someone; it makes me feel superior to them. I could see the logs being thrown into the fire of her eyes. Oh ho! I'm getting to her! I smugly smiled, walking over to the bread box and grabbing the loaf, still not cut. Conveniently, the drawer with utensils was right in front of where the box sat, so I pulled out a sharp edged knife, smoothly cutting through the bread. I swear, if only I had zoned out, because I heard Mom's arrogant retort.

"Until you pay a bill around here, your decision doesn't mean anything and no one fucking cares."

"H-Honey!"

"Dear, it had to be said. I'm tired of Miki being so selfish."

That's the straw that broke the camel's back.

"Selfish!? I'm the one being selfish!? Please enlighten me and tell me how I'm being selfish! You both are the two wanting to ship our whole family away to that barren historical drab called Kyoto!"

"It's not that bad, besides, it's not like it would fucking kill you to get out of Sapporo!"

"You know that you work here at that big music industry, right Mom!? The fucking company isn't going to pick up off the ground and move all the way out to fucking Kyoto for you!"

Mom rose to her feet, fists hitting the table as she stood up and defensively clenching her hands. She looked about ready to jump across the table, drag me up the stairs by my hair and then shove me out the window, throwing all my stuff at me in the process.

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to? I will personally beat the shit out of you if you talk to me like that one more time! Who the hell do you think you are, you stubborn brat? Watch your fucking mouth!"

"M-Meiko..Dear.."

"Can it Kiyoteru!"

"O-Okay hun.."

"Now, get your ass to school, right now! I don't wanna hear any lip! I don't wanna hear any calls from your teachers! One call and I teach your ass something!"

I was pissed. I'm serious, I was fucking pissed. How dare she talk to me like that! Mother or not, I demand respect and her treating me like a child wasn't helping! I was so pissed I wasn't even in the mood to stay in the kitchen long enough to put the Smuckers grape jelly on my bread. Great, now she ruined my breakfast! That bitch. I stomped out of the kitchen with heavy footsteps, immediately grabbed my bag and charged for the front door.

"Have a good day, Brat." Mom hissed hoarsely at me, a glare on her face. She sounded quite smug too, now that I think about it. All I could do now was grit and grind my teeth and clench my fists in resentment. I even puffed out my cheeks, and I reminded myself that I, even though it should have already sunk in years ago, I had to sink to the level of using Mom's mocking words about me being a baby to remind myself that I wasn't a little girl anymore.

'One more year…One more year of her shit and I'm out of here…' My thoughts threw a little rebellion. The sweet taste of being 18 was on the tip of my tongue. All I have to do is graduate high school. Time is already going by so fast, so I might as well just push it a little faster, to meet my goal of being an adult and leaving the clutches of my She-Devil Mother.

Muttering to myself as I sat on the floor mat that settled idly in front of the door, I pulled my sneakers off of the steel rack that held the different varieties of shoes owned by Mom, Dad, and Yuki. Ah, yes! Yuki is my little sister, who is currently 11, about to turn 12, and in 6th grade. Oh God, I remember my junior high days; crushes, passing notes in class, defying parents and teachers. Oh Boy, I could list a whole bunch of memories, but since Mom made me late, I gotta skedaddle. But yeah, I can't believe I forgot to let y'all about that little angel. She is always a sweetheart, and I swear every chance Mom gets, she always talks about how Yuki is better than me, but I'll save those tales for another day.

After pulling on my converse I looked at the time on my phone. 5:24. Oh No! Oh Shit! I'm gonna be late for the train! I pulled myself to my feet and swung open the front door, harshly tugging the outer knob and slamming the door harder than I actually intended. The last thing I heard from my home was the shatter of glass hitting the wooden floor of the foyer.

"What the Fu-Grr…MIKI!" My mother shouted from inside our lovely little home. I couldn't help but smugly smirk with knowing the fact that I got the last laugh in our little morning brawl.

"Ha ha, what can I say Mom? Looks like the underdog landed on top this time around~." I giggled with my arrogant smirk of success evident on my face. I was leisurely walking until I remembered what time it was. I immediately broke out into a sprint, dashing down the street and dodging cars, apologizing ever so slightly. S-Shit! I really gotta run! I have six minutes to make the train! Shit, Shit, Shit! I r-really gotta make a dart for it! I gotta go! I'll catch up with y'all later, and hopefully I make the train! Thanks for listening in; I'll be talking to y'all later! AAACK! 2:26! Fuck! Bye guys! Miki Out!

So, how do you like it so far? I hope y'all enjoyed it! I had lots of fun writing in first person XP

It was lots of fun making Miki! I love her personality~ I kind of designed her to be rough around the edges and very reserved. She doesn't tell people a lot, so that's why she didn't tell you guys much about her, personally. She can be very sweet and kind, but when it comes to being in fights she is always ferocious and angry. Haha! Let's not forget how clumsy she is~.

Miki inherits most of her traits from Meiko, except Meiko has a great sense of humor and is very loving and caring when it comes to her family (well, right now you saw the pissed side of Meiko haha)

Kiyoteru, lol he's a little betch /shot

Yuki, lol she's a little angel /bricked

This story originally was made one day when I was driving up to West Virginia, and so, with that said, and a story about Miki being self loathing and Kaito came to mind, so I just started with ideas and little sketchy thoughts, and thus, chapter one was born lol

Again, I hope you enjoyed it lovelies~

~Snowy-Chan