Missy's Autobiography

I ran, my feet bloodied and aching, my ankle unsteady and shrieking in pain. I ignored it, gasping

The little girl turned to look at her rather abruptly, the look on her face being that of a dog that was just discovered in the fridge. Her tiny hands scrunched up into nervous fists at her sides and the sudden movement made her hair cover her left eye.

“What are we going to do, Wulfric?” Rochelle asked me and her blue eyes were clouded with fear.

She gave us something to talk about. She was entertaining. At the same time, we held back. Because she was different. Different. We had no one to compare her to, no one to measure her against. She was unknown territory. Unsafe. We were afraid to get too close.

de me feel for so long, Parth," she replied, her lips nipping mine. I ran my hands slowly up the backs of her legs until I came to her butt. Instead of squeezing it I let my hands curve around to the outside until I had her hips. Sure enough, when I reached those magical curves I found nothing there. No waistband of panties, no slip, no garter. She hadn't been lying; she really wasn't wearing underwear.

She liked for things to go her way, and if things did not, she would get very upset. She acted as if the world revolved around her, and that it was everyone’s responsibility to make sure she was happy. As the story progresses, she slowly begins to get in tune with her emotions and begins to mature as a young

She had no idea at all. Should I tell her? Fear gripped my throat in a chokehold, preventing me from speaking. “Hey,” she crooned, “you can tell me anything.” I smiled grimly. Is that so? “Val? Val! You’re crying!” I felt warm tears slide down my cheeks, spilling the emotions I could never voice.

The light focused, and I saw a girl checking my temperature. Then, she made sure my temperature was ok.

She didn't pay attention much in class, She had beautiful blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair.

The wind howled through the window, threatening to break it in with every gust. The girl sat all alone in a dark room, huddling her legs, gazing out the window, waiting for the storm to pass. If anyone had walked into the room at that moment they would have noticed the girl, who looked around 12 years old, her messy, brown hair clearly hadn’t been washed or brushed in several days. They would have noticed the tattered clothes she was wearing, the dirt covering her skin, her stick skinny limbs which showed how little she ate and the bruises that looked a few days old all over her tiny body including one near her left eye making it difficult for her to see. And, if someone had cared enough, they would have noticed the look of pure fear and exhaustion in her eyes and seen the tears streaming down her face.

All saw was a big pile of sadness. A once hopeful girl for the future is now a depressed sad girl. Margot had missed the beautiful shine and how it brings warmth to her pale skin. Margot stepped out of the closet slowly. Margot’s heart is beating as fast a cheetah. The children were scared for they did not know what Margot was going to do next. Margot moped madly. As Margot walked away she heard the thunder laughing at her. Margot started running. Then she heard the wind whispering even louder than what it was before. Margot sprinted to her bedroom. Margot immediately pounced on her bed like a predator attacking its prey. Then ZAP BANG BOW. The lightning got even louder. Margot got consumed with her sadness . Margot finally fell asleep. Margot

I gradually got up, my leg hurting I thought to myself “how did this happen”? I looked around but all there was were green hedges and the hard concrete ground, it seemed I was lost and helpless. I shouted “help” but I was shaken because there was a loud bang, it sounded like a gunshot, trying to find where it came from I reached a corner and saw a glimpse of a head. I felt a warm feeling knowing maybe I wasn’t lost, rushing towards whoever it was I was ecstatic and needed an answer desperately.

She was the perfect cliché of the pretty blond hair, blue eyed girl that everyone loved to hate. No one actually hated her though. She did, in fact, have long golden blond hair that fell down her back, and big bright blue eyes, but the difference between her and the cliché was that no one hated her. Everyone loved her for her maturity and her old soul. She was outgoing and never let what anyone thought or said about her tear or down or changes how she felt about herself or anything around her. Whatever she did was done with grace and intelligence. I had always sought to be like her. She was always my role model, and I loved being proud that she was the one I got to look up to. I had always strived for her approval and never wanted to disappoint

She was a smart, optimistic, but was addicted to drinking beer with fragile emotions and blonde hair. Her friend saw her as an annoying, lonely drinker who didn’t know what to do with her life, but still stuck around. Once she slept a whole two days straight. That's the sort of woman she was.

I was walking with her, the one whose arm would typically be swaying, but instead the knobby stump was left hanging there. As I look at her, I notice how it wobbles. I didn’t feel uncomfortable around her, but I wanted to go. No, not because of her, but because I was afraid I'd get bullied too. As we walk down the hall together, Keri, looked over at me with her piercing crystal blue eyes, they looked like the ocean, as they eased my worries. Her brown lengthy, wavy hair was being held together by a piece of elastic, holding her hair keeping it out of her face.