Hey guys!~ So, this is my first PTV fanfic and I apology in advance for any errors. I was just staring at a blank Microsoft page and listening to Pierce los Veils and bam, fanfic idea :3 I can't give an estimate of amount of chapters but I've got most of it planned out! Outfit at the bottom and pleassssssseeee review.C:

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thoughts
'inner's thoughts'
"Dialogue or quote"

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The deafening beep of my alarm clock yanked me from my dreamless slumber. Stretching and rubbing at my eyes, I headed to my en-suite bathroom and ran the water. Yet another dull day that consisted of the same damn thing; Wake up, go to school and have my existence either ignored or threatened, return to my foster home and repeat. I reached up to rub in my shampoo and flinched; my arms were sore and littered with bruises. Yesterday at school I was pushed to the ground twice, bruising both arms while trying to break my fall. I haven’t cut in nearly a week and I was quite proud of myself. This past week has been particularly difficult and I’ve cried myself to sleep the past few days. No matter what, I was proud of myself for not caving in under the dark but comforting appeal of the silver blade hidden in the sink drawer. Out of sight out of mind, right?

I let the water drag away the thick conditioner and jumped out. Seeing as how I wasn’t exactly aware of what was in or not, I never really dressed up. It was always simple and I honestly didn’t mind; I can’t exactly afford much more. I threw on an oversized black sweater, a necklace to match my leather and chained bracelets, blue jeans and rubbed on a bit of lip gloss. A few screwed in gauges and swipes of eyeliner and mascara later, I looked at my reflection.

Damn it, my hair.

I ran a brush through my long,boring brown hair. My black finger-nails hurriedly pushed it into a low, messy side ponytail. My motorcycle boots were stuffed onto my feet as I dashed down to the kitchen. (outfit below)

“Good morning Nix!” my foster mom greeted with a cheeky smile. She was a round older woman with warm blue eyes and blonde locks streaked with grey. Her heart held so much compassion, she genuinely cared for the kids she took in and made sure she was more than good to them. Replying with a small smile, I poured myself a cup of coffee and waved bye. I’ve been with Mrs. Riley for a year now. She’s adopted several younger kids and another girl and guy about my age.

The girl’s name is Zoey. She’s outgoing and sporty but she knows I don’t talk. Zoey will sometimes try and pull a word or two from me but politely dismisses herself from the non-existent conversation. I don’t talk, at all. I haven’t spoken a word since my parents died… I’m not involved in some twisted dare or promise, I’ve just found that something goes wrong every time I open my mouth. You may say extreme but I believe myself to be cautious, maybe even a little too cautious.

The only guy around my age is Jaime. Jaime has purposely spiky hair and a huge grin forever carved into his face, displaying his deep dimples. He has the benefit of a year-round tan (courtesy of his Mexican heritance) and he’s a total goofball. He’s one of the few people that actually hang out with me- even if I don’t talk back. He’s always genuinely happy when we’re hanging out and strangely, it makes me feel kind of good. Jaime is only serious and withdrawn when his parents are mentioned, no one but Miss. Riley knows what happened to them. I, being the “not so talkative” person that I am, have not asked and probably wouldn’t anyway. I hardly saw him at school, we only talked at lunch since we merely had two classes together (both of which we’re seated quite far apart).

I gripped my backpack strap tighter as I neared the hell hole we all call High School. It’s pretty safe to say that I’m an outcast, hiding in the shadows and being as invisible as possible. Staying out of the way is what I’m good at and I was grateful I wasn't the rebellious type that needed to get a word in on everything.

'Kind of the opposite of what we are, eh? Mute…'

I clenched my teeth. I've always had a bit of a conflict with I call my inner. She is somewhat like me, just a completely separate part of me. I’ve discovered her thinking process is different than mine. My inner is more direct and confident- my exact opposite. Yet, she resides in my head…? It was all big confusing mess if I thought about it too long.

Shut up. I’m not a mute. I just choose not speak, I murmured at my twisted conscience. I unlocked my locker, grabbed the books I’d need and kicked it closed.

'That is in fact a mute, you idiot,' she chuckled. With all the resilience in me, I ignored her as she continued to try to annoy me. She didn't have to try very hard, really. I've mastered shutting out her unwanted idiocy.

'I heard that, I am in your head ya’know.'

I rolled my eyes.

My trek to homeroom is never smooth. Whether it’s a push, taunting or direct insults- there was always something. Today was a rare occasion; Tinley, the school’s princess and head of ruining lives, was walking towards me. She hit my books out of my hand without missing a beat. Tinley glanced in my direction with a smug look as she walked over to her boyfriend, her hair flowing smoothly with her movements.

Tinley's boyfriend was dangerous looking guy with tattoos, steely eyes, and long hair. His ears were stretched and the rare occasion that I got a glimpse of his smile made my heart flutter against my ribs and the heat would rush to my cheeks. We made eye-contact and his gaze lingered on me for a second too long before he looked away, indifference still evident in his features. I’ve had a crush on Tinley’s boyfriend, Tony, since freshman year. Seeing as how its Senior year and the only thing he’s asked of me is a pencil, my heart still won’t let this damn crush go and it pissed me off.

He was the Tony Perry though, the mysterious, precarious and amazingly sexy heart-throb of Clairemont High. Not to mention he dates Miss. Bitch over there, the most popular female in this god-forsaken place. The very thought of witnessing them kissing and being ‘cute’ with each other sickened me.

'Sounds like your awful jealous Phe-Phe' my annoying inner taunted.

I’ll be the first to tell you I don’t envy her, simply her romantic relationship with Tony.

Jealousy is jealousy, she smirked.

I growled at her and forced myself to shut her out.
But as much as I hate to admit it, she was right. One half of me didn't want to like him anymore, the other was madly head over heels and often fantasized about freeing him from Tinley’s leash and making him mine. But alas, Tinley has made that impossible.

A pop-ish kind of girl with bouncy blonde hair, clear blue eyes and infinite power was every guy’s dream. Then there’s me, doe-eyed nobody with long, wavy, boring brown hair and a taste for post-hardcore and punk rock. She wore flattering shorts and dresses; I stuck to skinny jeans and over-sized sweaters and shirts. Heels showcased her smooth looking legs and the make-up on her face was heavy, softening her imperfections. To say her presence made me insecure was an understatement. I glanced at him one last time with a defeated sigh and a look of sour longing.
I turned back to the mess in front of me. I knew I wouldn't be able to get to class on time. A few feet stepped on my papers and left boot marks on my homework and I secretly cursed at the passing assholes. I did my best to scoop everything up before further damage could be done. Someone kneeled down and handed me two of my books and the rest of my papers. My heart stopped and then pumped anxiety all through me when I made eye contact with the stranger. We were both standing upright now and my heart was racing, my social awkwardness was kicking in and I mentally frowned at myself.

The guy was maybe 4 inches taller than me with chocolate brown hair that came to his shoulders and bangs clipped to swipe over his forehead, resting over his eyebrow; big, innocent brown eyes were staring back at me. He was wearing an open red and black plaid button up, black undershirt and matching black skinny jeans. My eyes quickly looked to his feet and I saw red, beat up looking converse. He couldn't be more than a year or two older than me, maybe even the same age.

He slowly waved his hand in front of me, “Hello?”

I gave him a shy smile and looked down at my feet, suddenly feeling very conscience of myself.
“My name’s Victor but I prefer Vic,” he introduced with a small smirk, the only sign of awkwardness was well hidden in his eyes.

He noticed I wasn't saying a word and scratched the back of his head, “What’s your name?”
I gulped nervously and looked at him with fleeting eyes.
“Did I do something wrong?”

Oh god; Just the opposite. I don’t talk, Vic…
'Speak up you idiot!' she snapped at me with urgency.

“Are you okay?”

Perfect, just please don’t feel bad...Vic.
'C’mon, break that stupid rule of yours for once! You could actually make a friend!'

“H-How about I walk you to class, just to be sure?”

I slowly nodded my head, my eyes still glued to his. He fell into step with me as I made my way to class, his hands in his pockets and my anxiety at an all time high. Everything about him appeared relaxed but it seemed like he tensed when he wanted to say something.
He’s very careful about what he says, he obviously thinks everything through. I actually agreed with her for once and silently acknowledged the truth in her observation. I stopped in front of Miss. Hay’s door and gave him a curt nod goodbye and shy smile. With my head down, my shoulders hunched, I zipped to the safety of my desk and took out the necessary materials for class. She reprimanded me the whole class and I hardly paid attention to the lesson. Chemistry was its usually boring self. Three pages of notes later, the bell rang and the day continued without a single Vic or Tony sighting. It was fifth period (The last class before lunch) and I was excited. This was the only class I genuinely enjoyed, Art. I got out my portfolio with a small smile and looked to the board for the assignment. It was always vague and allowed us to explore our creativity.

Hello class! I’m sure I’m late but you should know the drill by now! For today’s assignment we’re going to do rough sketches that will consist of how you feel early in the school year. Draw yourself, someone else or a scene that describes your emotions poetically. We will do a follow up project at the end of the year and compare the two in front of the class! Sharpen your pencils and begin!

I gulped, "present to class’" rang in my ears as I took my pencil in my hand. I nervously began to sketch a rough draft. Eventually I zoned out and absently ran the pencil across the paper, letting it lead the way. I acknowledged the rough doodle for the first time and my breath caught in my throat. I drew a girl that looked- coincidentally-like me, sitting in a shadowed area. The character had ringed eyes, an ill-fitting tee pulled like a dress under her. Earphones were over her head and she appeared to be staring into space with lifeless eyes and her lips frowned slightly; you’d have to look close to tell her face wasn't straight. What made it hard to process was the sadness in her eyes- almost anger. Her smudged and tired face almost made her look crazed and tired. With her legs pulled to her chest and some distant light shining from an invisible window close to her but not quite touching her, left her in the shadows- almost like she didn't want the light to shine on her pale, sickly-looking body. The theory then added another emotion in the drawing's onyx eyes that I didn't see before; fright.

Notes

Phoenix's Outfit: http://www.polyvore.com/boring/set?id=97175260

Phew! So this chapter was actually pretty fun to write (as well as making le outfit)! I'd like to have 3 comments for me to update again pweeeaaseeee c:
Next chapter is already done and typed so the faster I get those comments, the faster the update! ^.^ it's up to you guys!~~