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...Life going forth...
A bright, intelligent, young girl rolls out from under the covers at four thirty in the morning, and forces herself to put on shoes. She grabs a small drink and slips out the door.
I roll over and look at the time, it was only four thirty; I guess now that I’m awake I’m not really tiered anymore. I suppose I’ll gout for a run/ Once again I slide out from the warmth of the embracing blankets and tuck my toes into warm tennis shoes. I go out the door making sure not make a sound to wake either of my parents, as I begin a five K.
The exhausted teen slips back into the house being sure not to make the dog bark. She takes her bruised body takes her bruised body and rubs her brail hands over the cuts and scrapes trying not to whimper as one brakes open from the soap and water.
I manage to stumble home with no energy left and climb into the shower as the warm water relaxes y sore body. Accidentally broke a fresh wound open. I had to do everything I could to hold back the screams as I dried off and got dressed.
After finding the clothes that hid all the evidence of the battery of her life she lies back down under the warmth of the covers, and flicks on the news. It is now six o’clock and time to start her homework.
I am so tiered and have almost no strength left, but I realize that I must get my work done for school, or I will no longer be able to enjoy it. I fall asleep over my books as I listened to the news cast.
Her alarm startles her as it grows louder and louder, faster and faster; she gets up and turns it off. She grabs her bag and out the door and off to school, stopping along the way to pick up a friend.
I throw a book and knock the annoying alarm off my dresser, as I grab y keys and rush out the door. My phone goes off with a friend on the other line asking where I am.
She pulls into the driveway and walks up to the school running into band almost late.
I notice I am a bit late and rush into class. All I can think about is when will first hour end, I hate this kid I sit next to, he’s so rude, and he’s dating my best friend.
As the day goes on the young teen enjoys her with all of the music classes she signed up for, as yet another bell rings, and she’s off to eight hour calculus, once again.
Ding the bell rings. Now I’m off to a class I despise, eight hour calculus AP. I mean sure I plan on majoring in math for college, but this teacher has no clue as to what he’s doing. I mean sure he’s a nice guy; he just doesn’t explain the material, at all.
The girl’s classes seem to be taking forever, as she keeps glancing at the clock counting down by the half minutes.
Ugh! Five? Ten? Fifteen minutes left!
The bell rings as she goes home and falls asleep on the couch until the next day.