Title-{NO TITLE YET}
Author- Goth Shadow.(Annie)
POV-Multiple
Warnings-Cussing, um some Risque humor.
Hey guys.
Um. This is my very first fanfic ever!
So please don't flame.
Note-
I have very restricted internet
access because of my mom
so, it might be like a month
before you here from me.
Prologue
Victoria's POV
-Beep Beep-
Ugh, I hated mornings.
I dragged myself off the loveley bed,
its comfiness begging me to return.
I turned around and entered my bathroom.
My eyes caught the mirror and
I shook my head in disgust at what I saw.
A very, very ghost looking pale
girl that stood at 5"4
and black raven hair that was straight to her waist.
Her chinese eyes stared at the reflection
for a minute before turning the shower on. A jet of cold water
washed the sleepiness out of her.
She went downstairs to find her parents already packed up to go. They were going to their third honeymoon. She was to stay at home.
"What the ******** are you doing just standing there?" Yelled my
father. "You're supposed to be cleaning the house and making breakfast for us!" Did I ever tell you how I hated my adoptive parents?
Yup, I was adopted, my parents died in a car crash when I was eight,
eight years ago. I'm 16.
I just stood there dumbfounded, and I recieved a slap to my face.
"Well, you heard your father!"
The b***h that called herself my mother yelled.
I did as I was told and put up with them until they left in the afternoon.
I was considering running away.
But I had a roof, food, and clothes to wear.
I couldn't. I was kind of glad it was summer, I was
happy to take a break. " Well Victoria, you'll be in college soon."
"After this vacation you'll have to go to Princeton in New Jersey, Far gfar away from your friends here in L.A. California."
I sighed thinking about this.
I wanted to get out of here, I wanted to DIE.
Well, I already have tried. Three times.
First I had cut my wrists.
Second, I had swallowed pills.
Third, I tried jumping.
Nothing worked for my MCR had saved me.
Their music and lyrics were the one of the things fueling me.
I walked to my bathroom, My place of silence and took
out a long, slender knife.
I cried knowing that cutting was my second way to escape.
The following week, my so-called parents were back and
were more abusive that ever.
That was IT. I had to go.
With tears streaming down my face I packed my clothes and electronics into a suitcase and went over to my friends house.
We were planning to go to a MCR concert that night but I knew I couldn't.
MCR would save me again, returning me to my abusive home.
I knocked on the door that was the opening to her pale home,
but no one answered. "She's probably at the concert waiting for me now." I muttered. I walked to a nearby park that was abandoned and
sat on a swing, crying my eyes out. I heard someone coming , but
I didn't even bother to lift up my head and see who
it was. "Are you okay?" I heard a familiar voice asked.
I didn't answer, I didn't want to.
"Are you okay?" asked the voice again, only it
was firmer. "No, I'm not. Now leave me alone"
I said, making it sound really harsh.
"You like MCR?"
"What? Do you have a problem with them?"
"No, It's just that I'm their rythem guitarist."
-Beep Beep-
Ugh, I hated mornings.
I dragged myself off the loveley bed,
its comfiness begging me to return.
I turned around and entered my bathroom.
My eyes caught the mirror and
I shook my head in disgust at what I saw.
A very, very ghost looking pale
girl that stood at 5"4
and black raven hair that was straight to her waist.
Her chinese eyes stared at the reflection
for a minute before turning the shower on. A jet of cold water
washed the sleepiness out of her.
She went downstairs to find her parents already packed up to go. They were going to their third honeymoon. She was to stay at home.
"What the ******** are you doing just standing there?" Yelled my
father. "You're supposed to be cleaning the house and making breakfast for us!" Did I ever tell you how I hated my adoptive parents?
Yup, I was adopted, my parents died in a car crash when I was eight,
eight years ago. I'm 16.
I just stood there dumbfounded, and I recieved a slap to my face.
"Well, you heard your father!"
The b***h that called herself my mother yelled.
I did as I was told and put up with them until they left in the afternoon.
I was considering running away.
But I had a roof, food, and clothes to wear.
I couldn't. I was kind of glad it was summer, I was
happy to take a break. " Well Victoria, you'll be in college soon."
"After this vacation you'll have to go to Princeton in New Jersey, Far gfar away from your friends here in L.A. California."
I sighed thinking about this.
I wanted to get out of here, I wanted to DIE.
Well, I already have tried. Three times.
First I had cut my wrists.
Second, I had swallowed pills.
Third, I tried jumping.
Nothing worked for my MCR had saved me.
Their music and lyrics were the one of the things fueling me.
I walked to my bathroom, My place of silence and took
out a long, slender knife.
I cried knowing that cutting was my second way to escape.
The following week, my so-called parents were back and
were more abusive that ever.
That was IT. I had to go.
With tears streaming down my face I packed my clothes and electronics into a suitcase and went over to my friends house.
We were planning to go to a MCR concert that night but I knew I couldn't.
MCR would save me again, returning me to my abusive home.
I knocked on the door that was the opening to her pale home,
but no one answered. "She's probably at the concert waiting for me now." I muttered. I walked to a nearby park that was abandoned and
sat on a swing, crying my eyes out. I heard someone coming , but
I didn't even bother to lift up my head and see who
it was. "Are you okay?" I heard a familiar voice asked.
I didn't answer, I didn't want to.
"Are you okay?" asked the voice again, only it
was firmer. "No, I'm not. Now leave me alone"
I said, making it sound really harsh.
"You like MCR?"
"What? Do you have a problem with them?"
"No, It's just that I'm their rythem guitarist."
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