the curse
folder
Fantasy & Science Fiction › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
858
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Fantasy & Science Fiction › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
858
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Meet Kriss
Kriss\'s POV
I met her in my dreams. Dreams are suppose to be your own world. Why did it seem like she was the one controlling it the whole time? Constantly throwing me to the ground with the nod of her head, sending toxic emotions through my veins just with a blink. I remember the smirk on her face when I broke down crying, smashing my fist into the closest thing I could. How could you possibly understand though? I guess the only way for me to really explain the story, is to start from the very beginning....
My God I wish this woman would shut the fuck up. Mrs. Lawson takes the cake when it comes to being a raging bitch.
\"Are you listening to me? Now next time you come in late, miss, I\'ll dock a whole 10 points off of your final grade\", Mrs. Lawson snarled. Told you, Raging bitch.
\"But Mrs. L I thought it was impossible to have your final grade be a negative number\". I tend to mumble unfriendly remarks too much. Thankfully some guy walked into the class before bitch 1 could send me down to the office... again.
Looking up I realize it\'s that new student everyone\'s been dying to meet. Wow, he\'s pretty cute. Guess we know what that means... He\'s a rich jock and has healthy income by the looks of his outfit (obviously from a store that I would never be able to pronounce if my life depended on it).
Let\'s see I know I get pissed off when people don\'t give me the full visualistic descriptions when it comes to physical attributes, being dyslexic (haha I can\'t even spell my own disorder) it\'s really hard for me to understand mere words. Anyway, he\'s about 5\'11, maybe breaking 6 ft, has dark brown hair, has a sort of tan complextion. Obviously he\'s not from around Massachusettes. You\'ve got to love his outfit though, he\'ll definately fit in with Medford\'s finest. Just to warn you, I\'m not the typical girl who can spew all the different words used to describe pants so when it comes to a persons clothing ensembles, I might fall a bit short. So, I can get on to the good part of the story instead of me rambling on like bitch 1 tends to do; he\'s wearing black pants, green button up shirt thing, some kind of shoes (told you I suck) and has his hair in a messy \"I want people to think I\'m hardcore so I\'ll make my hair look like shit even though I know it looked perfect when I woke up\" look.
It\'s too bad he\'ll be falling into the prep level of hell soon. Those evil sluts will tear his modest body into a deceitful piece of jock shit. Now it may seem I have something against jocks and, you\'re absolutely right. Not only do I feel this way about them, but the feeling is mutual so there\'s no need to feel sorry for the insensitive pricks.
Now I\'m sitting here staring off into space, reminiscing of all the wonderful experiences I had with the various jocks at this school. Like the time i punched one in the face because he thought it appropriate to harrass me in the lunch line. I mean seriously, what kind of jackass hits on a girl in the friggin lunchline???? Especially one who has made it obvious several times how violent they are in confined spaces.
Then he looked at me. Not the jock whose face i rearranged, the new kid. A slight tremor ran through me, he must have saw it because he kinda smiled and looked down. How embarrasing.
\"Class, we obviously have a new student with us. His name is...\". Mrs. Lawson stammered flipping through pages of useless material.
\"Gabriel, Gabriel Richards\", he commented quietly.
\"Okay well since you are new here and you missed the first day name game why don\'t you just tell us a little about yourself. Where you moved from, what kinds of things you are interested in and so on.\"
\"Uhm, well i moved here from Medera California because my dad got transferred.\"
\"Oh really, and what kind of work does your father do for a living\"
\"He\'s an architect, he designs huge mansion like houses\"
\"Okay well since my class has been interupted so much today already, you can take a seat right back there next to christina\"
I hate when people call me Christina, wait... what. The guy just looked around... I kinda did a hand flip thing so he\'d realize I was \'christina\'. I hate my mother, the least she could have done before she bolted was give me a decent name. If i had friends I would make them call me kriss but... I don\'t have to worry about that because i don\'t have friends. I live with my grandfather, my mother left us when i was 3 years old to be with another guy. My dad and older sister died in a car accident when i was 12. Pop is all I have left in the world.
I met her in my dreams. Dreams are suppose to be your own world. Why did it seem like she was the one controlling it the whole time? Constantly throwing me to the ground with the nod of her head, sending toxic emotions through my veins just with a blink. I remember the smirk on her face when I broke down crying, smashing my fist into the closest thing I could. How could you possibly understand though? I guess the only way for me to really explain the story, is to start from the very beginning....
My God I wish this woman would shut the fuck up. Mrs. Lawson takes the cake when it comes to being a raging bitch.
\"Are you listening to me? Now next time you come in late, miss, I\'ll dock a whole 10 points off of your final grade\", Mrs. Lawson snarled. Told you, Raging bitch.
\"But Mrs. L I thought it was impossible to have your final grade be a negative number\". I tend to mumble unfriendly remarks too much. Thankfully some guy walked into the class before bitch 1 could send me down to the office... again.
Looking up I realize it\'s that new student everyone\'s been dying to meet. Wow, he\'s pretty cute. Guess we know what that means... He\'s a rich jock and has healthy income by the looks of his outfit (obviously from a store that I would never be able to pronounce if my life depended on it).
Let\'s see I know I get pissed off when people don\'t give me the full visualistic descriptions when it comes to physical attributes, being dyslexic (haha I can\'t even spell my own disorder) it\'s really hard for me to understand mere words. Anyway, he\'s about 5\'11, maybe breaking 6 ft, has dark brown hair, has a sort of tan complextion. Obviously he\'s not from around Massachusettes. You\'ve got to love his outfit though, he\'ll definately fit in with Medford\'s finest. Just to warn you, I\'m not the typical girl who can spew all the different words used to describe pants so when it comes to a persons clothing ensembles, I might fall a bit short. So, I can get on to the good part of the story instead of me rambling on like bitch 1 tends to do; he\'s wearing black pants, green button up shirt thing, some kind of shoes (told you I suck) and has his hair in a messy \"I want people to think I\'m hardcore so I\'ll make my hair look like shit even though I know it looked perfect when I woke up\" look.
It\'s too bad he\'ll be falling into the prep level of hell soon. Those evil sluts will tear his modest body into a deceitful piece of jock shit. Now it may seem I have something against jocks and, you\'re absolutely right. Not only do I feel this way about them, but the feeling is mutual so there\'s no need to feel sorry for the insensitive pricks.
Now I\'m sitting here staring off into space, reminiscing of all the wonderful experiences I had with the various jocks at this school. Like the time i punched one in the face because he thought it appropriate to harrass me in the lunch line. I mean seriously, what kind of jackass hits on a girl in the friggin lunchline???? Especially one who has made it obvious several times how violent they are in confined spaces.
Then he looked at me. Not the jock whose face i rearranged, the new kid. A slight tremor ran through me, he must have saw it because he kinda smiled and looked down. How embarrasing.
\"Class, we obviously have a new student with us. His name is...\". Mrs. Lawson stammered flipping through pages of useless material.
\"Gabriel, Gabriel Richards\", he commented quietly.
\"Okay well since you are new here and you missed the first day name game why don\'t you just tell us a little about yourself. Where you moved from, what kinds of things you are interested in and so on.\"
\"Uhm, well i moved here from Medera California because my dad got transferred.\"
\"Oh really, and what kind of work does your father do for a living\"
\"He\'s an architect, he designs huge mansion like houses\"
\"Okay well since my class has been interupted so much today already, you can take a seat right back there next to christina\"
I hate when people call me Christina, wait... what. The guy just looked around... I kinda did a hand flip thing so he\'d realize I was \'christina\'. I hate my mother, the least she could have done before she bolted was give me a decent name. If i had friends I would make them call me kriss but... I don\'t have to worry about that because i don\'t have friends. I live with my grandfather, my mother left us when i was 3 years old to be with another guy. My dad and older sister died in a car accident when i was 12. Pop is all I have left in the world.