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Chapter 1: Hell Day 47It wasn't every day that the mornings were this good. It wasn't bright and sunny, rather it was cool and crisp, thin layer of gray clouds lined the once blue skies for miles on end, showing no sign of any sunlight.
Along the streets of the city, a young man was dodging the rush hour of the day. It wasn't even seven thirty yet and he had to weave his way around throngs of people. His school uniform already getting ruffled from being shoved by person after person, his hair was getting disheveled as it brushed the shoulders of those taller than him. He cursed at the idea of being short and he earned himself a few disapproving looks. He glared back with his own look of disapproval, and continued to shove through the crowds with a bit more force than necessary.
It was hard to see at one point, being swarmed by this mass of business suits, dresses, and coats. It was suffocating, and he stumbled across the floor, reaching out and grabbing onto the closest thing to him.
"HEY!" yelled a teenage
Letting GoIt's not easy uprooting a home you've lived in for 16 years of your life, especially since the new home you're going to be moving into is in a different country.
It was all a large shock really, it was nothing but a normal day at the Luis household; I had just gotten home from school, expecting the smell of dinner to greet me rather than my parents sitting on the couch, They both looked rather excited and anxious, fidgeting as they faced me. My little brother Ron was looking a bit upset; his cheeks splotched red while his eyes were puffy from crying.
"Before we even start speaking Brandon, I want you to take a wild guess as to what happened." My father, Andrew Luis, said with restrained joy. It was strange, seeing such a happy expression on my dad's usually exhausted face, his thin features bright with a flush of pleasure. The eyes I usually saw in the mirror everyday were twinkling and his mousy brown hair was unexpectedly shaggy.
This had to mean one thing:
"You got the p
I'm DifferentIt's not easy being someone like me.
Being treated like a freak as you walk down the halls of a stick-up-your ass private school. I always keep my earphones on, the music drowning out the mindless drabble of the idiots around me. It blocks out the taunts, the stupid whispers, the whoops and hollers, not to mention the comments that were meant to bait someone. I'll never fall for that again, sheesh, I got into a lot of trouble at times.
Damn, how long has it been since this all started? Two, three years now? It amazes me just how long these people can hold onto a certain thing. But instead of it being hurtful, it turned irritating. Shit, if they're going to come up with names at least come up with GOOD ones, or have the right mind to just shut up and bash me when I'm not there or in your head. Geez they need to grow a pair, or a brain, preferably the latter.
I still remember what had happened, all of it triggered by a kiss. A single kiss, one that was passionate, painful and a closure t
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