The Deadly and the Dangerous

I investigate the mirror on top of my dresser and stare at my ruby red hair. My hair is exceptionally long. I glance at my reflection and notice how my eyes appear to be as green as polished emeralds. My eyes lack kindness and warmth they seem empty, like I have no soul. My eyes appear cold and harsh, they used to be warm and filled with joy and happiness but when my mother died all of that drained and I was left feeling broken and heartless, hell I even felt dead. I reach down and pick up my black choker. I absolutely love how the red gem on it glistens in the light, it has always fascinated me. I apply some black eye shadow and create my signature style. I always use black eye shadow because it makes my eyes pop and seem more vibrant. I grab some concealer and begin covering the dark bags under my eyes. I work two jobs and don’t really get any sleep, the bags under my eyes are proof. If anyone knew about my two jobs, there would be countless rumors about me. As I finish up, I add some red lipstick and wipe off the mess it left on my lip ring. I glance into the mirror once more and notice how my skin is so clear and smooth. I turn away and head towards my bed so that I can get dressed. I grab a pair of ripped skinny jeans and pull them on over my pale legs. Next, I grab my black V-neck and pull it over my head and cover up my black lace bra. I find my black stilettos and fit my feet into them. I sit up straight and brush a strand of hair behind my ear feeling my gold earrings dangle. I stand up and walk over to the mirror and do a once over. I straighten out my skinny jeans and fix my black V-neck. It really pushes the limits of the dress code. My shirt shows off a lot of cleavage. I don't really care; I mean I do worse at my one job. I won't get in trouble for what I am wearing because nobody really cares. The stupid girls at school care but even then, they dress like skanks. I at least still have some dignity. They only give a damn because I catch the eyes of every guy at our school. I mean I have the entire football team crushing on me. So yeah, they have it out for me, but I don't give a s**t, I could beat their asses in a heartbeat if I wanted to. I'm positive they know I could. I reach into my jean pockets and feel around for my lighter, but it isn't there. I look on the top of my dresser hoping that I left it there while I fixed my hair, thankfully it was. I pick it up and leave my room, which is like a basement apartment. I mean I still live with my father and brother, but I live in the basement and have a door that leads outside. My room is quite interesting. It's the size of a master bedroom, and the lighting is dim. I have my own privacy most of the time... I walk out of my room feeling stressed out. I reach into my sweater pocket and feel around for my pack of smokes. Once I grabbed the pack, I take out a cigarette and put in into my mouth. I closed the pack and put it back into my pocket. I reach into my other pocket feeling around for my lighter but felt the cold metal of my trusty pocketknife. This knife acted as a savoir for me. I held the knife tightly then let it go and grabbed my lighter. This lighter means everything to me. This lighter that I hold so dearly to my heart was given to me by my best friend Zayn a few days after my mother died. The lighter he gave to me is a black metal zippo lighter with a picture of a tiger’s face. Every time I touch the lighter a smile appears on my face. This lighter always makes me think of all the good times we shared. I would be devastated if I ever lost this lighter, it literally means everything to me. I started walking the same path I take every day to go to school. I grab out my phone, plug in my headphones and play my most common playlist and begin the journey to school. I despise school almost as much as I despise my father and brother. The farther I walk the more stressed out I become. While I walk to school everything hits me, all my worries and anxieties even my fears. I can’t help but worry about what could happen. I’m so used to living in fear that I no longer possess the ability to show it. I’m particularly good at hiding my emotions; for me emotion is weakness and I can’t be weak. I must hold everything together, so I don’t lose my mind. Because once my mind is gone, I have nothing else to hold onto. Suddenly, I feel someone tap my shoulder and I jump a little. "Hey Kasim." I turn around to face the voice ready to do anything I must to protect myself, and I'm met by Zayn. His face is inches away from mine and I am frozen in place. Zayn has a strange aura about him. It’s calming yet worrying at the same time. He has a look in his eye, you know the one where you can’t tell what is going on through his head. Sometimes it’s genuinely concerning but I’ve grown so used to it that sometimes I don’t even notice it. But when he gets this close, I can’t help but notice. Zayn is my best friend and he means the world to me. We have known each other since we were babies. Our moms were best friends since elementary school. They had so much history, my mother and his were inseparable. When my mom died my dad wouldn't let her or Zayn near me, but that didn't stop me. I would go see them whenever the hell I pleased. Whenever I ran away, I would go to them, they protected me. Also, they are the only ones who know about what happens at home and I plan to keep it that way. I guess you could say I like to live a life of mystery or adventure but in all honesty, I live a life in fear and pain. I suffer every night, whether it’s from working two jobs after school or from my so-called family. And since Zayn's mom is a doctor, whenever I get hurt, I go to her. I haven't been to the hospital since the death of my mother and I will never go there for as long as I live. If I ever said that to someone, they would think it’s because my mother died in a hospital, but they are completely wrong. I never correct them because then they would know my most painful secret. I look away from Zayn and blush a little bit as I take out my headphones.  "Hey Zayn, you startled me.” I say with a smirk. "Would you like some company on the walk to hell high?" We both laugh for a little, our school is called Hellebore High. So, we shortened it down to Hell High. Which makes more sense since I find everyone there to be an asshole. "Sure, the walk to hell high should always be with friends rather than alone." Zayn and I link arms and we continue the boring walk to school. I honestly hate our school so much. It’s just full of preppy bitches who want to show me up. But I'm just 10 times better. Now I know a lot of people would say that I’m no better, that I’m just a stuck-up b***h, but I don’t really care because I have the right to be a b***h. I own up to being a b***h. And at least I don’t try to rub it in other people’s faces. I mean I have the whole football team going after me. If one of those snobs tried to mess with me when I'm with them they would handle it, definitely Hunter, he is the star quarter back on the team. He looks out for me, but not like the way Zayn does. Zayn is very protective while Hunter gives off that big brother feeling. He and the team treat me like a princess and a sister. It makes me feel important and not so useless. In fact, it makes me feel a little better about my body that has been through hell, half the time I just wish I could escape to another one a cleaner one. We soon arrive at the school, where all the girls waited to torture me.  Every girl in school was head over heels for Zayn and Hunter which kind of pisses me off. I have feelings for Zayn and Hunter. I like Zayn in a way that's hard to describe and I like hunter in a completely different way. Of course, they don't know it. But damn they really piss me off. If they happen to see me enjoying myself in the slightest, they will do anything and everything to ruin it on me. If I could, I would just drop out and work for a living. I hate the pointless drama that is handled here. I would literally do anything to leave. I un-link my arms from Zayn and give him a peck on the cheek like I do every day. He watches me walk away to stand near a wall and have a smoke. Once I reach the wall he walks over to a table and takes out a sketchbook and pencils from his bag. Zayn has always been into drawing; he plans on becoming a tattoo artist once he graduates. As for me I have no clue on what I want to do, probably because I fear I might die before I get the chance to do anything or make something out of myself. I put my headphones on, and press play on my phone. I quietly stand there and watch Zayn hard at work drawing. The sketch book he's drawing in is the one I gave him for his birthday a few years ago. I’ve never seen what he draws in it, but I know it must be beautiful. He always draws things that either make him happy, that he finds unique or just random ideas that he has. But that’s in his other sketchbook. He usually doesn't show me or anyone else what he draws in this one. It makes me wonder what he's hiding. As I’m watching him, I see him glance at me and smile. It doesn’t last for a long time because the bell rings for classes and I start getting pushed around by the mass of students trying to get inside. Zayn rushes over and shields me from all the other students. "Are you ok?" "Yeah, I'm good." We stand there and wait for everyone to get inside. We just stand there holding each other just to make sure I don’t get pushed around or dragged away from him. He says it’s because I’m so skinny, but I know the real reason. Once we are alone, he takes my hand and helps me to my class. The teacher gives me a look but doesn't say anything. I take my seat and he began taking attendance.