The Story of a Rebellious Greaser
About A Girl
When I came to, the pain in my head returned. I felt it and realized it was wrapped up in gauze. Where was I? What the fuck happened last night?
"Cherie." I heard someone mutter. I looked over and saw figures, but it was too dark to tell who they were. I groaned and tried to get up, but my wrists were tied to whatever I was lying on. A figure came closer and I almost wanted to scream. I knew who this was. Her long brown hair, which used to be blonde like mine 3 years ago, came down to her shoulders. Her deep brown eyes studied me and her thin, pink lips traced into a smirk. I didn't struggle or try to fight my way out of here, I just stared at her with an passionate hate.
"Ashlen." I spat out. She uttered a small laugh and turned around. Three guys appeared. I knew one as Jim Anderson. He was my boyfriend from California...or ex boyfriend. The one Ashlen stole. The other two were unknown but I knew they were from California. One of them, he had black spiked up hair, gave Ashlen a syringe. I began to struggle, but it was too late. Whatever she injected inside me, already took effect and I fell into an unwanted sleep.
When I finally woke up once again, I was sitting in a chair. My wrists still tied. I could try and break free from this, I knew I could. This has happened more than once, I used to get tied up by my weird friends and my specialty was breaking free. Soon, I felt a hand around my throat. I stopped struggling and trying to break free. The hand loosened their grip and a bright light turned on. Before me was a mirror. But in that mirror, the reflection was different. My hair was jet black. My skin no longer pale, was tan. The make up on my face was vaguely close to that of a Soc and my clothes weren't what I'd wear.
"Hello Cherie...or should I say Cheryl?" Ashlen whispered in my ear. I shuddered in disgust. What did they do to me?
"My name's Cherie, you slut." I said and she slapped me. Pain has no effect on me...at least not much. But this stung a whole lot.
"Cherie's dead. Everyone knows." She said and I felt confused.
"What do you mean?" I asked and she threw the newspaper at me.
Teenage delinquent jumps off bridge...
"Cherie." I heard someone mutter. I looked over and saw figures, but it was too dark to tell who they were. I groaned and tried to get up, but my wrists were tied to whatever I was lying on. A figure came closer and I almost wanted to scream. I knew who this was. Her long brown hair, which used to be blonde like mine 3 years ago, came down to her shoulders. Her deep brown eyes studied me and her thin, pink lips traced into a smirk. I didn't struggle or try to fight my way out of here, I just stared at her with an passionate hate.
"Ashlen." I spat out. She uttered a small laugh and turned around. Three guys appeared. I knew one as Jim Anderson. He was my boyfriend from California...or ex boyfriend. The one Ashlen stole. The other two were unknown but I knew they were from California. One of them, he had black spiked up hair, gave Ashlen a syringe. I began to struggle, but it was too late. Whatever she injected inside me, already took effect and I fell into an unwanted sleep.
When I finally woke up once again, I was sitting in a chair. My wrists still tied. I could try and break free from this, I knew I could. This has happened more than once, I used to get tied up by my weird friends and my specialty was breaking free. Soon, I felt a hand around my throat. I stopped struggling and trying to break free. The hand loosened their grip and a bright light turned on. Before me was a mirror. But in that mirror, the reflection was different. My hair was jet black. My skin no longer pale, was tan. The make up on my face was vaguely close to that of a Soc and my clothes weren't what I'd wear.
"Hello Cherie...or should I say Cheryl?" Ashlen whispered in my ear. I shuddered in disgust. What did they do to me?
"My name's Cherie, you slut." I said and she slapped me. Pain has no effect on me...at least not much. But this stung a whole lot.
"Cherie's dead. Everyone knows." She said and I felt confused.
"What do you mean?" I asked and she threw the newspaper at me.
Teenage delinquent jumps off bridge...