Chiara pov
"Si hurry up, we're going to be late," I called. My little sister's sneakers thudded down the stairs as I reached the kitchen.
"Good morning, Papa. Good morning, Mama," I said, planting a kiss on my mother's cheek. My stepfather grunted from his paper.
"Good morning, princess. How was your night?" my mother asked.
"Fine. I stayed out late," I lied and shrugged a shoulder to hide the tiredness. I do my share of stupid things — drink, smoke — but I don't sleep around. Not my style.
"Come on, Chi. Don't dawdle. First day of junior high," my sister chirped, already halfway out the door. We're different—she's the golden child, and I'm the wildfire.
***
In school
"Hey, princess. You good after last night?" Marco asks, leaning against my locker like he owns it. He's my boyfriend—going on two years now. He's not perfect… hell, he's barely decent. But he was there when I was falling apart. And I needed someone then.
I hate that.
"I'm fine, Marco. Or are your eyes broken?" I snap.
He lifts his hands defensively. "Damn, Chiara, chill. Just checking on you."
Sometimes I wonder what version of me he fell for. The broken one? Or the angry one?
The bell rings, cutting off my thoughts. Thank God.
"I'll see you later, chupa cabra," I say with a smirk and head to science class. I hate science. I hate school. I hate mornings. But I deal with it, because self-destruction has limits—and dropping out would make me just like my worst fear: hopeless.
Just because some asshole from my past wrecked me doesn't mean I'll wreck my future too.