Beginnings, the best yet worst part at the same time. Well, let's just get on with it, shall we?

Ryland's POV

A long piercing sound echoes in my ears. I groan, slamming my hand over top of the source of the sound; my alarm clock. I scream into my pillow in frustration. It's fucking Thursday.... the worst day of every week. Also gym day. Even worse! I curse as I stand up, feeling the cold air from my room rush into my curvy body. I jump, watching my slight fat bounce with me. I smile, proud of my body. I've gotten past the whole 'God you're fat!' part, but unfortunately there was more that would come. I snap out of my thoughts and walk to the closet. I open it, seeing baggy bland clothes. Mostly sweatshirts and sweats.

I go ahead and grab a plain grey sweatshirt and grey sweats. I grab some fuzzy socks, slipping them on. I walk back to my bed and grab my glasses and phone from the side table. I pad downstairs, knowing my mom is still asleep. Dads already at work, so I don't have to worry about him. I walk past the kitchen and go straight to my shoes. Nice and plain. I slip them on and walk back to the living room. I yank my backpack off the couch and walk to the door. Time for another day in hell..

I walk out the door and start in the direction of the bus stop. I lift my left hand to my mouth and absentmindedly chew at my nails. Bad habit, but it helps with stress and boredom. I turn the last corner and see the bus stop, some students already there. I muffle a sigh and walk slower towards them. I keep my head down, my red hair covering my face. I guess they hear my footsteps, because as soon as I'm there, a small area has already cleared for me. I mean, it's not nice to move away from someone like they're a disease, but it is handy sometimes. Well, I guess I should thank Dean for that, after all, he was the one who outed me. Outed me on liking both girls and guys, that is. The only reason it effected me, is because it got to my homophobic dad... and then shit hit the fan.

I murmur some not so kind words but I keep my head down. The conversations around me start back up. Something nice about being me is that nobody ever thinks your listening, so you hear a lot of things. Most things I hear are just personal, so I just brush them off. But there have been a few times where what someone was saying was about me. So that's saved my ass a few times by now. Everyone is interrupted by the sound of the bus coming to a stop in front of them.

I let everyone get on in front of me, getting on last. A few stragglers come rushing around the corner just in time. The bus driver waits for them, then begins its drive towards school. I glance out the window, feeling paranoid, like normal nowadays. I pull my phone out of the pocked in my sweats and unlock it. I instantly go onto a drawing app. I didn't bring my pen, but I can use my fingers. I begin drawing a small fire, only drawing the basic outlines. I finish that, then begin drawing a face in the fire.

The first one to come to mind. I close my eyes, trusting my hand to draw the person. I've done this before, and my drawing had been the most realistic in a while. It almost looked as if it moved. But it was probably because I'd been drawing nonstop in the dark for three hours. I open my eyes to see how it's going. It looks male so far, judging from the basic body type. I'm once again interrupted by the bus as it stops. I glance out the window, seeing the large school building.

I stand up, watching the other students on the bus file out. I follow, putting my phone away. I walk fast, aiming to get into the building and into my first period class as soon as possible. After all, the worst things happen in hallways. I subconsciously rub my hands together, my roughly bitten nails scraping against my skin. I stop at my locker. Number 541, also the one at the very end of the hallway. Closest to the exit door. I set my backpack on the ground and enter my combination quickly. I open my backpack, grabbing my trapper out and moving it into the locker on the hangers.

Suddenly a hand sieges the back of my sweatshirt and slams my face into the locker next to mine. I yell out, feeling my nose begin to bleed. "Hey Ryland, I thought you'd have run off by now!" Dean mocks. I put pressure to my nose, ignoring him. I've learned that it was the best way to deal with his antics. I reach back down, grabbing the trapper I'd dropped. A shoed foot stomps down on my hand. "Hey faggot! I was talking to you!"

I make a fist with my free hand, and bite back tears of pain. "Sorry.." I grit out, wondering why nobody was helping me. Well, now that I think about it, no one has helped before, so why help me now? His foot releases my hand, making me winch. "Better be. It'd be better if you just didn't exist. Then I wouldn't have to listen to your apologies." He growls before stalking off. I begin to shake. Both in anger and pain. Mental and physical pain. I stand up, tears now freely running down my face. I grab my trapper and wipe my tears. I'll be late to class if I wait any longer....

There's the first chapter! So, should there be romance? Let me know! Why do you think she feels paranoid? Go ahead, comment any theories !

Aight, so this author, being me, is probably letting this account die since idk how to delete an account other than just clearing it. So, I suppose I'll edit this bs and move on with my sad little life 

Ahem, I meant, thanks for reading this shitty fanfic, and promise me to never be the miserable edgy person I was