*Sorry for the long delay! I just figured I wouldn't wait to get the movie (since I missed the first 15 minutes of it) and that I would just set it after, which makes the possibilities with the storyline endless!
Alex trudged towards her destination with heavy, sodden feet. Rain poured down atop her in a torrent, sheets of angel's tears creating a curtain all around her. Are they crying for me? she wondered miserably, finding it difficult to walk in her drenched skirts. She didn't bother to open the petite umbrella her mother had tossed out the door at her to shield herself from the downpour, it dangled loosely from her backpack. No, the water pelting her skin felt soothing to her weary body, cleansing. A sigh escaped her lips and she allowed her mind to go blank, revelling momentarily in the wetness that kissed her lips as she turned her face skyward. But unwanted memories flooded her, shattering the calming effect of the crystal liquid. The crack of a whip, screams, an angry voice, pain...tears. She stamped at a puddle with a tiny white shoe in utter frustration, sending muddied water spraying up at her and staining her soft pink dress with flecks of brown. For a moment she simply stood there, numb, staring down dimly at what looked like a child's small foot, big black buttons on a round toed slipper. She blinked, narrowing her eyes in tortured contemplation. What was she? she asked herself, the words echoing around in her despairing mind. Had she become this thing, this living breathing doll, a brainwashed zombie? Or had she been this way from the beginning?
She winced as the wetness seeped through the fabric of her clothing, causing her burning lash marks to sting. As soon as she had opened her door the previous day, upon returning from school, she had been abruptly grasped by the hair and drug into the house, flailing and pleading for her derranged mother to release her. That night she had dared to lay a hand on her daughter's body where the marks could be clearly seen on her pale skin in addition to the whipping. The particular outfit Alex wore today revealed no skin past the collar bone, effectively hiding the deep black bruise marks spreading across her left shoulder and down her upper arm. Why would her mother do such a thing to her? Wasn't a mother supposed to love her child? A great heat began to build in her stomach from the tight knot of discontent that had grown upon itself over time, and flared suddenly up until she could feel the warmth creeping into her face.
*That bitch!* she thought to herself. *Why the hell do I put up with her?!* *Because she is a man with the wrong body parts,* she realized with despair, *she could kill you easily.* Silent tears of pain and hatred began to stream down her face to join the cool wetness of the rain as she resumed her treck toward the large building that provided her little solace, but for an escape from the physical pain she bore at home.
As she neared the institution of learning her rage grew and by the time she had pushed through the double doors that opened into the warm and dry hall she was consumed by it. In her pack she had hidden away a few items of clothing that she had once, in a fit of rebellion, snuck into a store and stolen. She had come up with a plan of vengeance on her sodden trek through the rain. At least she could strike out here, she wasn't a robot. Her dear mum couldn't simply push her buttons. She was about to find her way to a bathroom to strip out of her soaking clothes when she came face to face with Vice Principle Richard. Her resolve paled when she saw the stern look that seemed to be forever plastered on his aging face.
"Miss Shantay," he said, his voice touched with a sort of bitter amusement at the sight of her. Seeing his expression she began to wonder just what she looked like. Her princess-like makeup was undoubtedly running by now, her hair slicked down and plastered to her head, and her dress mud splattered and dripping. She began to worry what her fellow classmates would think when she entered detention, but then shook herself mentally, the anger she felt still strong enough to fight it's way to the forefront. Perhaps it wasn't fair to lash out at others for her misfortunes but at that moment she was pissed at the entire world. She grimaced at 'Dick', as Bender had referred to him, with a look of distaste. He frowned in annoyance at her negative expression. Without speaking he gestured with an arm roughly, reaching out to grasp her shoulder and turn her about. She pulled away from his touch almost violently, her frown deepening, and spun on a heel, marching towards the door he had indicated and bursting through.
All of the other 'delinquints' had gathered and looked up at her as she entered and she smoothed her features automatically, surveying the students who she would be spending the day with. She couldn't help but notice their silent staring, slightly shocked expressions fluttering across their faces at her terribly wet appearance. "What?" she asked in a demanding tone, agitated. Three pairs of eyes turned away quickly, and the people whom they belonged to took to looking embarassed. A dark, intense looking girl at the far side of the room continued to stare at her in indifference, however, as if she were looking directly through her. A tough looking teen whom she recognized failed to avert his gaze as well, and she shifted her eyes to meet his own. He grinned rougeishly. John Bender. She shot him a glare that dared him to make fun of her, but his eyes laughed at her silently.
As she surveyed the room she raised an eyebrow skeptically, although it went unoticed beneath the bangs that were plastered to her face. Every single social group was represented, each sitting seperately at their own tables. She recognized Claire and Andrew emmidiately, seated at the two foremost desks nearest the door. Claire was, of course, a popular girl, a school princess so to speak, with bright red hair and a light pink top. Andrew was a jock and probably the most well known of the group. He sported a blue letterman jacket this day. Another boy, whom she didn't recognize, was seated at an adjacent seat to Andrew's, across the aisle way. He was thin with red hair, and looked like the academically gifted type. Directly ahead of him sulked the dark haired girl, her face nearly hidden by her deep brown locks. She didn't glare, but stared curiously at Alex. And of course there was Bender, slouching down in his chair with his fingers interlaced lazily over his stomach, one foot resting casually on the table top. As she made her way to the last remaining table, across the aisle from John, she could only imagine the silence that would reign that day. How wrong she was.
Alex trudged towards her destination with heavy, sodden feet. Rain poured down atop her in a torrent, sheets of angel's tears creating a curtain all around her. Are they crying for me? she wondered miserably, finding it difficult to walk in her drenched skirts. She didn't bother to open the petite umbrella her mother had tossed out the door at her to shield herself from the downpour, it dangled loosely from her backpack. No, the water pelting her skin felt soothing to her weary body, cleansing. A sigh escaped her lips and she allowed her mind to go blank, revelling momentarily in the wetness that kissed her lips as she turned her face skyward. But unwanted memories flooded her, shattering the calming effect of the crystal liquid. The crack of a whip, screams, an angry voice, pain...tears. She stamped at a puddle with a tiny white shoe in utter frustration, sending muddied water spraying up at her and staining her soft pink dress with flecks of brown. For a moment she simply stood there, numb, staring down dimly at what looked like a child's small foot, big black buttons on a round toed slipper. She blinked, narrowing her eyes in tortured contemplation. What was she? she asked herself, the words echoing around in her despairing mind. Had she become this thing, this living breathing doll, a brainwashed zombie? Or had she been this way from the beginning?
She winced as the wetness seeped through the fabric of her clothing, causing her burning lash marks to sting. As soon as she had opened her door the previous day, upon returning from school, she had been abruptly grasped by the hair and drug into the house, flailing and pleading for her derranged mother to release her. That night she had dared to lay a hand on her daughter's body where the marks could be clearly seen on her pale skin in addition to the whipping. The particular outfit Alex wore today revealed no skin past the collar bone, effectively hiding the deep black bruise marks spreading across her left shoulder and down her upper arm. Why would her mother do such a thing to her? Wasn't a mother supposed to love her child? A great heat began to build in her stomach from the tight knot of discontent that had grown upon itself over time, and flared suddenly up until she could feel the warmth creeping into her face.
*That bitch!* she thought to herself. *Why the hell do I put up with her?!* *Because she is a man with the wrong body parts,* she realized with despair, *she could kill you easily.* Silent tears of pain and hatred began to stream down her face to join the cool wetness of the rain as she resumed her treck toward the large building that provided her little solace, but for an escape from the physical pain she bore at home.
As she neared the institution of learning her rage grew and by the time she had pushed through the double doors that opened into the warm and dry hall she was consumed by it. In her pack she had hidden away a few items of clothing that she had once, in a fit of rebellion, snuck into a store and stolen. She had come up with a plan of vengeance on her sodden trek through the rain. At least she could strike out here, she wasn't a robot. Her dear mum couldn't simply push her buttons. She was about to find her way to a bathroom to strip out of her soaking clothes when she came face to face with Vice Principle Richard. Her resolve paled when she saw the stern look that seemed to be forever plastered on his aging face.
"Miss Shantay," he said, his voice touched with a sort of bitter amusement at the sight of her. Seeing his expression she began to wonder just what she looked like. Her princess-like makeup was undoubtedly running by now, her hair slicked down and plastered to her head, and her dress mud splattered and dripping. She began to worry what her fellow classmates would think when she entered detention, but then shook herself mentally, the anger she felt still strong enough to fight it's way to the forefront. Perhaps it wasn't fair to lash out at others for her misfortunes but at that moment she was pissed at the entire world. She grimaced at 'Dick', as Bender had referred to him, with a look of distaste. He frowned in annoyance at her negative expression. Without speaking he gestured with an arm roughly, reaching out to grasp her shoulder and turn her about. She pulled away from his touch almost violently, her frown deepening, and spun on a heel, marching towards the door he had indicated and bursting through.
All of the other 'delinquints' had gathered and looked up at her as she entered and she smoothed her features automatically, surveying the students who she would be spending the day with. She couldn't help but notice their silent staring, slightly shocked expressions fluttering across their faces at her terribly wet appearance. "What?" she asked in a demanding tone, agitated. Three pairs of eyes turned away quickly, and the people whom they belonged to took to looking embarassed. A dark, intense looking girl at the far side of the room continued to stare at her in indifference, however, as if she were looking directly through her. A tough looking teen whom she recognized failed to avert his gaze as well, and she shifted her eyes to meet his own. He grinned rougeishly. John Bender. She shot him a glare that dared him to make fun of her, but his eyes laughed at her silently.
As she surveyed the room she raised an eyebrow skeptically, although it went unoticed beneath the bangs that were plastered to her face. Every single social group was represented, each sitting seperately at their own tables. She recognized Claire and Andrew emmidiately, seated at the two foremost desks nearest the door. Claire was, of course, a popular girl, a school princess so to speak, with bright red hair and a light pink top. Andrew was a jock and probably the most well known of the group. He sported a blue letterman jacket this day. Another boy, whom she didn't recognize, was seated at an adjacent seat to Andrew's, across the aisle way. He was thin with red hair, and looked like the academically gifted type. Directly ahead of him sulked the dark haired girl, her face nearly hidden by her deep brown locks. She didn't glare, but stared curiously at Alex. And of course there was Bender, slouching down in his chair with his fingers interlaced lazily over his stomach, one foot resting casually on the table top. As she made her way to the last remaining table, across the aisle from John, she could only imagine the silence that would reign that day. How wrong she was.