Chapter 2: Ashes to Ashes

The sunlight filtering through the black curtains of my room was a gentle mockery, a reminder that even on the darkest of days, the world outside would always try to intrude. I lay in bed, surrounded by the familiar comforts of my cluttered, velvet-draped sanctuary, and let out a disinterested sigh. Another day, another opportunity to indulge in the farce that was high school. As I swung my legs over the side of the bed, my black fishnet stockings caught my attention. A faint hole near the toe would have to be repaired. I mentally filed it under "things to do today." My gaze wandered to the collection of silver hoops on my nightstand and the dark eyeliner on my dresser. My makeup was a carefully constructed mask, one that kept people at arm's length and allowed me to observe the world around me with a detached air. Downstairs, my mother was making pancakes, the sweet scent of batter and syrup wafting up to my room. My stomach growled, and I begrudgingly got to my feet. I shuffled to the bathroom, flipping on the light switch to reveal a space adorned with Edgar Allan Poe quotes and a few well-placed cobwebs (artificial, of course). I began to mechanically go through my morning routine, washing my face, brushing my teeth, and running a comb through my long, curly black hair. My mom called out from downstairs, "Angel, breakfast is ready!" I rolled my eyes and made my way to the kitchen. My dad, sporting his signature long hair and tie-dye shirt, beamed at me from across the table. "Hey, kiddo! First day of school, and you're looking...different." He chuckled. I raised an eyebrow. "Different?" I repeated, pouring myself a cup of black coffee. "Yeah, you know, your...style. It's, uh, quite...goth." He awkwardly patted my hand. My mom intervened, saving me from having to respond. "Honey, don't worry about it. Angel's just expressing herself." The ride to school was uneventful, the warm sunshine and chirping birds outside my window a stark contrast to my melancholy mood. As I stepped out of the car, I noticed a commotion near the entrance. A group of students were gathered around a tall, dirty-blonde boy, laughing and chatting with him. He was grinning, his eyes crinkling at the corners. For a moment, I was annoyed by the noise, the brightness of his smile, and the way everyone seemed to be drawn to him. Who was this...interloper, and why was he disrupting the carefully crafted monotony of my school day? I pushed my way through the crowd, leaving the boy and his admirers behind. As I walked into my first-period class, I couldn't shake off the feeling of annoyance. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed to hum in sync with my frustration. I took a seat in the back, trying to blend in with the sea of familiar faces. But my eyes kept drifting back to the newcomer, wondering what it was about him that seemed to draw people in like a magnet. The bell rang, and our teacher began to drone on about the syllabus. I pulled out my notebook and started to take notes, my mind wandering to the photography internship I was determined to get. It was a long shot, but I had to try. The thought of it kept me focused, and I found myself lost in the intricacies of aperture and shutter speed. As the class drew to a close, I gathered my things and filed out of the room, my eyes scanning the hallway for any sign of the mysterious boy. But he was nowhere to be seen, and I was left with only a faint sense of irritation and a nagging feeling that our paths would cross again soon. I made my way to my next class, my feet carrying me on autopilot as my mind wandered to the day ahead. It was going to be a long day, but I was ready for it. Bring it on, I thought to myself, a small, dark smile spreading across my face.