Ashley’s Perspective
The jarring shriek of my alarm pulled me awake, and a dull ache throbbed in every muscle. Despite the pain, missing school wasn’t an option – I never missed school. This was my senior year at Angels High School. The name felt ironic, considering the rot that festered within its walls. Corrupt didn’t even begin to describe it, but who was I to judge?
Lost in thought, I forced myself out of bed and went through my usual morning routine. After dressing, I pulled on a large hoodie, determined to hide. The hoodie concealed not just my body, but the scars beneath it.
Walking down the stairs, I clutched my keys to the front door. The silence was a relief; my uncle, Benson, was already at work. I hadn't heard any weird sounds.
????????????
The school building loomed, and I was immediately enveloped in a warm hug by Michelle Johnson, my only real friend. She wasn’t much for gossip, but she was stunning, with a model’s figure and dark green eyes.
“Hey, how are you doing, Ash?”
“Good, and you?” I lied, returning the question as we walked towards our lockers, luckily side-by-side.
“I’m good. Have you finished your math homework?” Michelle asked, pulling her textbook for her next class. We only shared math, which was, admittedly, my favorite subject. It was weird, I knew.
“Yep, I’m done.” I replied. She always wanted to copy my answers.
“Can you please—" She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes locking on the trio of boys who dominated the school halls. They moved like they owned the place. Let me introduce them.
Mason Anthony, the cute one, was a player. He rotated through girls weekly, with blond hair and light green eyes, standing at six-foot-three. Taller than my five-foot-three.
Then there was Ace Parker, the silent one. Some called him the Silencer because he rarely spoke. He was cool, lethal if provoked, and never smiled. But he was undeniably hot, the second choice for girls after Chase. I'd never seen him with anyone, which suggested he wasn't interested in relationships. He had light blue eyes and smooth black hair, towering at six-foot-five.
Finally, Chase Martins, the leader. The hottest guy in school, and completely indifferent to the existence of girls. He wore a perpetual cold glare, radiating an icy arrogance. His death glare made you want to pee yourself, especially if you accidentally bumped into him. His expression was always the same: cold, detached, and utterly dismissive. He had beautiful grey eyes and brown hair, the same height as his friend Ace.
(Author's Note Removed)