A/N Hey guys! He was so excited to see that people favorited/followed/reviewed that he decided to continue this story! Keep it up!
Jet black hair, deep green eyes, a dark green hoodie, and a solid gold bracelet that was given to her by her mother before she had passed away. The girl had pale skin with soft freckles and white wires hanging from out either side of her head traveling to the pockets of her jeans belying some sort of smart phone. She thought of herself as average looking, nothing special except for her dark green eyes. She was boring in her appearance in every way. Average face, average build, not too thick or curvy, nothing impressive about her breasts or her stomach or her behind. No abs or thigh gap or even the strange things mentioned in movies and old books like a long neck or beautiful wrists. No, she was totally grey. It was good this way though. She was sick of boys almost as much as she found it impossible to relate to other girls. She wasn't some rebellious loner or some mysterious poetic romantic waiting to blossom. She just was. She was nervous and lonely and unkempt and wholly untrained in the art of womanhood.
At school she kept to herself and by way of blending into the crowd managed to avoid the exciting drama of teenage life. Lacy got pregnant, Macy got herpes, Jacey got engaged again for the third time this semester, and Addison? Well she got mostly A's because she has no social life. At school she genuinely missed being part of something, anything that mattered, or having some sort of companionship. At school she hated being invisible and meaningless.
At home however, she knew that being invisible was the key to survival. She always went straight to her room, buried herself in the latest Maas novel, and didn't make a peep.
The house was the most confusing of living arrangements. The outside was ramshackle and run down. The roof leaked, the heater and the air conditioner never seemed to make it upstairs, and the place had a faint smell of mildew and trash. It was in a terrible neighborhood and the constant sounds of ambulances and police sirens made it a place of constant unease.
Still, one would think that with the ruin of the building that they were poor, but her dad managed to have the most up to date home theater system, could afford to order delivery every night for dinner from expensive restaurants, and had the most ridiculous and gaudy gold chains and Adidas track suits. He had when she was younger earned a mean scar across his face and another along his neck that made his speech come out like a wooden door creaking against its hinges. He had several teeth knocked out and replaced them with gold dentures, and had himself covered in tattoos announcing his loyalty to his race, his varying religious beliefs, and most importantly his hatred of immigrants and non-white people in general.
When she was younger she had asked her father to come to career day in the 2nd grade. He said, "I don't have to work, I had me a rich uncle and he left me a load of inheritance." When she asked what the uncle's name was so she can pray for him and thank him Harold said, "Shut your gob you little cunt. I ain't here for interrogation, what are you the flatfoot? Little Miss Gumshoe wants to back talk her old man!? Your lucky I keep you around what with your mother gone!" For a 2nd grader to hear this sort of talk, it was not supposed to be normal, but unfortunately she was already used to it. She just looked down, kept her eyes to the ground, sniffed back her tears, and waited for him to finish. If she were lucky he would just yell at her, if things got worse then he would hit her, she just had to wait and see. "Oh I see, crying like a little bitch then. Like I'm the bad guy! Your mother is the one that checked out early! She's the one that left you with me! Now I'm stuck raising an ungrateful brat!" This was one place she just couldn't let him go. "She didn't leave me! She died! She was in a car accident when I was a little baby and she died!" What followed was not a spanking, or a paddling. It was just a beating. Not for discipline or for training or even punishment, it was just rage. It was the kind of beating that left bruises, cuts, swollen eyes, loose teeth. She didn't ask him about family ever again. She told the teacher she fell down the stairs... again. The teacher didn't care... again.
Nowadays the habits formed at home transferred to her school life. Addison chose to be grey. She chose to be unnoticeable. She chose to make absolutely no waves and to blend in as best she could. She was, when she was occasionally noticed, accused of being a tom boy, a plain jane, and a nerd. Her secret outlet was through fantasy. She would consume books about strong women overcoming terrible adversity. She loved stories about dark evil forces, and a woman with courage and cunning overcoming brute strength and impossible odds. She loved reading stories about impossible men falling in love with these powerful women and yet the heroine making their affections a second priority to something far more important like family or saving the world. There was something wonderful about being able to enjoy the company of men, but not being ruled by them. These of course seemed like such far fetched fantasies though, when the headmaster of her school was a man and a tyrant, her father was a man and a tyrant, and the boys at school either choosing to sleep with you or ostracize you.
She would have preferred the company of women, but in her school it seemed she would have to wear pink every day, dress in ways that got uncomfortable glances from older male teachers, and spend all day gossiping. She eventual discovered gossiping was just another form of hating other women. Her options were to hate men, hate women, or hate herself. Being incapable of bringing herself to despise other people, she chose to hate herself. She hid herself away from the world behind her black hair falling in her face, her thick hoodie covering the bruises and cuts on her arms and wrists, and the headphones which screamed classic rock and pop-punk to drown out the hateful noises of the day, whether it was the gossip from the girls, the pressure from the boys, or her father pointing out her shortcomings again.
She sometimes lay awake at night thinking of the one thing that she was missing that would have thrown it all together. She needed mom. She needed someone to have her back. She needed someone to hold her and let her know it was all going to be okay. She needed someone to keep her father in check. She needed someone to stick up for her at school and teach her how to navigate this life as a proud and happy woman and not just a scared little girl.
