Hey everybody. I'm Delila.  This story is not to be taken as an insult. Don't yell at me if I mess something up, I WILL GO BACK AND FIX IT!!! Also:: this is completley my story, and if anyone copies it, they will be sorry. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

And without further a do... I bring you... BROKEN!!!!

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Monday. The glorious half-demon we all know to be associated with school, work, or anything tht requires getting up and actually making an effort to get through the day. Of course, there's always a catch to waking up feeling like a princess.

Oh, right.

School.

I sigh, getting up from my bed. I make it, then grab some half-decent clothes to wear. Skinny ripped jeans and a tank top. My usual attire, it's just a good look for me. I get my makeup kit and shove it into my bag. I run out of the back door to avoid my mom. No, I shouldn't even give her that title. Ever since she kicked my dad out, she's been abusive, and yells at me if I say a word at the dinner table.

As I open the door to my car, a piece of rusty metal falls to the ground. I roll my eyes and get inside. I quickly grab my concealer, and cover up the small rose tattoo on my forearm. I drive away, and before I know it, i'm sitting in the bathroom, doing my makeup.

Some mascara, winged liner, and red lipstick gives me a bold, yet trendy, tumblr-ish look. I swipe a little bit of foundation over a bruise on my knee, and head out. I keep my head held high as I hear the insults from the high-schoolers around me.

"Try-hard!"

"Dyke!"

"Fat, ugly whore!"

Of course, I walk past all of them and sit in my seat at the back. While I wait for class to begin, I read. I'm reading my favorite book,  "Alice in Wonderland".

"Hey Allie," I hear, from an all-too-familiar voice.

'Ugh, Britney...'  I think, while standing up. I look ar her in disgust, as she spits nasty comments at my look. I know she's jealous, because she wrote it in her second grade diary. Which I read. She likes my hair, apparently.

"What do you want, Brit?" I ask, already tired of the bull she's pulling.

"Well... I was gonna ask if those extensions were made of horse hair, but clearly they're  just-"

I cut her off, saying with a bright smile-

"Your mom's chest hair." She gasps, and her face gets red and scrunched up, and she lunges for me.

My fist stops her.

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THANKS FOR READING!

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XX,

DELILA