Blood Stains - Intro

"Hey! Yoo Hoo!!! HEY!!!!" Every morning this is what I wake up to, an ordinary house, filled with ordinary people, and an ordinary wake-up call from my good freind Karen. Well, it's not her actual presence that wakes me up, but the ring tone she programmed on my phone for when she calls. Of course, it wasn't out of the goodness of her heart but from her constant boredom in English. None-the-less, it is Karen's voice I wake up to each morning, and it is the voice that ends my day. I am only a junior in highschool, and yet I feel as if I've discovered everything in this life worth discovering. I've been drunk, gotten wasted at a party (a dull one), I've been in love, then been heart-broken, and even smoked once. Other than that, this little town of Cambridge doesn't really have much left to offer. Nothing interesting ever happens, no one interesting ever moves in, and basically my days are filled with the dull thud of disappointment and occasional laughs as a reaction to Karen's cruel humor. And to top it all off, I'm late to school again, otherwise Karen would not be calling. Because of how "routine" my life has become since I've moved to this wasteland, I am already guessing, as I get out of bed, that Karen is outside in her black '98 ford mustang calling and recalling until I peek my head out the window and flip her off. Our relationship is based souly on our need for more. Our personalities clash completley, but hey, we make up for it by cracking eachother up, even in the dullest of dull moments in this dullsville. I've had boyfreinds in this town, but like I said, when you've been brokenhearted once, your future relationships won't get anywhere past the physical. Now that my clothes are on, and it seems, notice I said "seems", that I have everything I need, I barrel my way down stairs with the usual quick goodbye from my mother as she grabs her keys to make her way to her maid job at the local Motel 8. Like the usual sob stories, my mom and my moving here was out of desperation from my mother and father's pain-in-the-ass divorce. He cheated on her, she cheated on him, and no, we were not one big happy family. I don't blame my mom for leaving, I actually commended her, I would have done the same with a husband like that. But thank god for grandparents, well, actually damn them, or I wouldn't be stuck living right next to them in this fucking dullsville of a wasteland. Just as I had suspected, Karen was giving me faces in our front lawn, currently tapping the screen of her phone which read 8:20. Hey, 10 minutes better than yesterday, not bad. If truth be told, no one around here really cared if we were late for school, not even my mom. Well, actually there was the librarian, probably the only male librarian in a 100 years, because quite frankly, that's how old he is, and thats how long he's been a librarian. He has his own personal vendetta against anything thats late, from library books to students. So as you can imagine, I am basically his least favorite person in the world. Yet again, as routine would have it, after finally pulling up to the school in Karen's less than new vehicle, and entering the pearly gates of what is officially known as Cambridge's own personal prison, because of pure luck Mr. Gibb (demonic librarian) was standing at the ready with two tardies. Karen tried her sex appeal, basically the only thing she was able to contract from her genious of a gorgeous mother, but as usual, all attempts at "flirting" her way out of it failed with this old chum. As we skidded down the hall towards first period, I noticed that Karen was having trouble pulling down the skirt she had recently raised for her attempts at Mr. Gibb's lustful side, "that" had obviously died along with the dinosaurs back in the days of his birth. I whispered, "slut", she growled back with a, "skank", and we officially began our freindly day of sarcasm caused by endless boredom. Little did I or Karen know that our day would become a little less boredom filled, and our minds a little less controlled by desperation for something to do. First I feel I must clarify something here. I have always felt that one-night-stands were something practiced by single roaming adults, and single roaming adults only. I never suspected in a million years that I would be pushed into the situation especially in "CAMBRIDGE". And I know that the term one-night-stand is always followed by a face of disgust, but really, it wasn't as hard to say yes as you might think. Anyways, I'm getting ahead of myself, as far as you should know, my name is Catie, and this day started off normal, but ended differently from any day I've experienced in Dullbridge.