Let the Flames Begin
Chapter 1
I woke up to the startling sound of my alarm clock.
I sat up with a sigh and turned the loud racket off.
Let me clear up a few things for you:
(a) No, I don't hate my job/life. Everything is wonderful in my world.
(b) I am most definatly single, like always.
(c) I'm not original.
(d) I'm a journalist.
There. I think that'll do enough for you.
So here I am. 5'4, 18 year old girl. I have longish dark brown hair, aquamarine eyes, and I'm basically like any other 18 year old girl.
I look like everyone else at Alternative Press.
I'm a journalist for Alternative Press magazine, and I love it there.
I don't get judged, because everyone who walks through that door with a purpose looks just like I do.
I didn't get abused as I was a child either, so if that's what you're looking for, then this isnt for you.
I stood up, still in slumberland, and walked to my closet to get clothes.
I pulled out a Paramore RIOT shirt, orange skinny jeans, and the rest of the stuff I'd need, and ran to the bathroom.
I also live with my obnoxious sister.
You know, the one who slaps her gum, who's the ditz of the family that everyone loves?
She's the reason I'm single.
I brought my old boyfriends home, and they ended up with her by the end of the night.
So that's why I'm single 99.9 percent of the time.
I also only have friends from where I work.
I don't have many friends outside of my day to day job.
I don't support my sister in any way. If she wants that Gucci purse, then she'll have to get money to buy it, or go complain to my parents.
I ask for a place of my own and they say I'm asking to much, but when perfect litte Layne wants a couple million dollars to go on a shopping spree,
thats not alot, and she gets it. She gets everything she wants.
I turned into the bathroom, the door unlocked, and walked in. Steam was coming from the shower, so I almost walked out.
Because of Layne being the worst sister anyone could want, I walked to the toilet and flushed it, then ran out of the area and into the closet where the towels go.
There were many times when I hid there when she was threatening to poke my eye out with an earring, or choke me with a necklace.
"OHMAGAWD!" I heard her yell as the water turned hot. She jumped out wrapping a towel around her and running into the hall way. She ran to my room.
I jumped out of the closet, closed the door and locked it.
She just got Punk'd.
"I am so going to kill you...and stuff!" She screamed on the other side of the door.
"Nice comeback. Sounds like something a 5 year old would say." I screamed back.
I quickly took a shower, dried my hair, got dressed, and put make up on. I then slung the makeup in my purse and grabbed my keys of the counter where I had my clothes sitting.
I opened the door with the long haired blonde girl, who should've been named something like 'Claire' or 'Nicole' or something along those lines.
"Why'd you do that, it was uncool," She said, snapping her gum.
"Because, unlike you, I have a job that I have to go to."
"I have a job."
"Yeah, using up all the hot water and making me late for mine," I retorted, then pushed her out of the way so I could get to my room.
I grabbed the messenger bag I kept my reports, interviews, cds, and past magazines in and slung it over my shoulder.
I ran out of my room, closing the door behind me.
"I'm gone to work. Be back later," I called.
Like it'd matter to her.
I sat up with a sigh and turned the loud racket off.
Let me clear up a few things for you:
(a) No, I don't hate my job/life. Everything is wonderful in my world.
(b) I am most definatly single, like always.
(c) I'm not original.
(d) I'm a journalist.
There. I think that'll do enough for you.
So here I am. 5'4, 18 year old girl. I have longish dark brown hair, aquamarine eyes, and I'm basically like any other 18 year old girl.
I look like everyone else at Alternative Press.
I'm a journalist for Alternative Press magazine, and I love it there.
I don't get judged, because everyone who walks through that door with a purpose looks just like I do.
I didn't get abused as I was a child either, so if that's what you're looking for, then this isnt for you.
I stood up, still in slumberland, and walked to my closet to get clothes.
I pulled out a Paramore RIOT shirt, orange skinny jeans, and the rest of the stuff I'd need, and ran to the bathroom.
I also live with my obnoxious sister.
You know, the one who slaps her gum, who's the ditz of the family that everyone loves?
She's the reason I'm single.
I brought my old boyfriends home, and they ended up with her by the end of the night.
So that's why I'm single 99.9 percent of the time.
I also only have friends from where I work.
I don't have many friends outside of my day to day job.
I don't support my sister in any way. If she wants that Gucci purse, then she'll have to get money to buy it, or go complain to my parents.
I ask for a place of my own and they say I'm asking to much, but when perfect litte Layne wants a couple million dollars to go on a shopping spree,
thats not alot, and she gets it. She gets everything she wants.
I turned into the bathroom, the door unlocked, and walked in. Steam was coming from the shower, so I almost walked out.
Because of Layne being the worst sister anyone could want, I walked to the toilet and flushed it, then ran out of the area and into the closet where the towels go.
There were many times when I hid there when she was threatening to poke my eye out with an earring, or choke me with a necklace.
"OHMAGAWD!" I heard her yell as the water turned hot. She jumped out wrapping a towel around her and running into the hall way. She ran to my room.
I jumped out of the closet, closed the door and locked it.
She just got Punk'd.
"I am so going to kill you...and stuff!" She screamed on the other side of the door.
"Nice comeback. Sounds like something a 5 year old would say." I screamed back.
I quickly took a shower, dried my hair, got dressed, and put make up on. I then slung the makeup in my purse and grabbed my keys of the counter where I had my clothes sitting.
I opened the door with the long haired blonde girl, who should've been named something like 'Claire' or 'Nicole' or something along those lines.
"Why'd you do that, it was uncool," She said, snapping her gum.
"Because, unlike you, I have a job that I have to go to."
"I have a job."
"Yeah, using up all the hot water and making me late for mine," I retorted, then pushed her out of the way so I could get to my room.
I grabbed the messenger bag I kept my reports, interviews, cds, and past magazines in and slung it over my shoulder.
I ran out of my room, closing the door behind me.
"I'm gone to work. Be back later," I called.
Like it'd matter to her.
♠ ♠ ♠
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