Alright, so I've sorta been playing around with this idea for a while so constructive criticism is appreciated. Hope toi enjoy
She flew down the empty interstate as fast as she could on that old motorcycle as midnight stars twinkled in sky above. She was running away, just trying to forget what had happened that day. What state she was in, ou how long she’d been driving she didn’t know anymore. It all happened so fast. The phone call, the yelling, the anger, and then everything went blurry and suivant thing she knew her father was lying died on the floor. What did I do? She asked herself as she tried to recall the events leading up to what she had begun to call “the blur.”
As she and her adoptive family were eating dinner, the phone rang. It was the doctors office with strange news on the results of the physical and blood test she took in order to continue playing water polo her junior year. She figured it couldn’t be much, maybe some old injury looked like it flared up again, but her theory was quickly proven wrong as she watched her father’s face fill with anger as the person on the other line spoke.
“Dad?” she asked confused as to what had caused this.
“I am not your father, toi mutant freak!” He yelled in the most hostile tone she had ever heard him speak in. She stood in in anger as her father continued to shout at her about how she never should’ve been adopted and called her biological parents six-eyed, three-legged monsters. Then it was blank, and the suivant thing she knew, the house was a mess, things were on feu and her father lay dead in front of her.
“Get out.” she hear her mother muter, “Get out Charlie!” With that Charlie ran out the door, a volé, étole her dad’s old Harley and took off with nowhere to go and nowhere to be, never to return to that place.
She gripped the handle bars tight as she sped up down the nearly abandoned interstate. The desolate road stretched on for miles. The loneliness hadn’t set in until now. Until this moment she was worried about what she was going to do ou where she was going to go. She looked down at the dog tags she was wearing as they danced around her neck. That piece of metal around her neck was the only link she had to her biological family. The dog tags were so mangled, it was impossible to read what was written on them. They looked as if they had been melted and gone through a garbage disposal, but they meant the world to her.
She looked back to the road. Charlotte Anderson, mutant and murderer, she thought to herself as she tried to contain her emotions, but within secondes she Lost control of the motorcycle and spun out onto the side of interstate. She heard a car pull over behind her.
“What do toi think your doing?” She heard a gruff voice ask.
“Uhgh-I-” Charlie muttered in pain as the man pulled the bike off from on haut, retour au début of her. He was a raged looking, unkempt man who looked like he hadn’t shaved in weeks. Charlie slowly began to sit up and pulled her casque off. The grungy man knelt down suivant to her, shocked when he saw how young she was and when he saw her hands literality burning a hole in her leather glove.
She flew down the empty interstate as fast as she could on that old motorcycle as midnight stars twinkled in sky above. She was running away, just trying to forget what had happened that day. What state she was in, ou how long she’d been driving she didn’t know anymore. It all happened so fast. The phone call, the yelling, the anger, and then everything went blurry and suivant thing she knew her father was lying died on the floor. What did I do? She asked herself as she tried to recall the events leading up to what she had begun to call “the blur.”
As she and her adoptive family were eating dinner, the phone rang. It was the doctors office with strange news on the results of the physical and blood test she took in order to continue playing water polo her junior year. She figured it couldn’t be much, maybe some old injury looked like it flared up again, but her theory was quickly proven wrong as she watched her father’s face fill with anger as the person on the other line spoke.
“Dad?” she asked confused as to what had caused this.
“I am not your father, toi mutant freak!” He yelled in the most hostile tone she had ever heard him speak in. She stood in in anger as her father continued to shout at her about how she never should’ve been adopted and called her biological parents six-eyed, three-legged monsters. Then it was blank, and the suivant thing she knew, the house was a mess, things were on feu and her father lay dead in front of her.
“Get out.” she hear her mother muter, “Get out Charlie!” With that Charlie ran out the door, a volé, étole her dad’s old Harley and took off with nowhere to go and nowhere to be, never to return to that place.
She gripped the handle bars tight as she sped up down the nearly abandoned interstate. The desolate road stretched on for miles. The loneliness hadn’t set in until now. Until this moment she was worried about what she was going to do ou where she was going to go. She looked down at the dog tags she was wearing as they danced around her neck. That piece of metal around her neck was the only link she had to her biological family. The dog tags were so mangled, it was impossible to read what was written on them. They looked as if they had been melted and gone through a garbage disposal, but they meant the world to her.
She looked back to the road. Charlotte Anderson, mutant and murderer, she thought to herself as she tried to contain her emotions, but within secondes she Lost control of the motorcycle and spun out onto the side of interstate. She heard a car pull over behind her.
“What do toi think your doing?” She heard a gruff voice ask.
“Uhgh-I-” Charlie muttered in pain as the man pulled the bike off from on haut, retour au début of her. He was a raged looking, unkempt man who looked like he hadn’t shaved in weeks. Charlie slowly began to sit up and pulled her casque off. The grungy man knelt down suivant to her, shocked when he saw how young she was and when he saw her hands literality burning a hole in her leather glove.
Alright, so I've sorta been playing around with this idea for a while so constructive criticism is appreciated. Hope toi enjoy
She flew down the empty interstate as fast as she could on that old motorcycle as midnight stars twinkled in sky above. She was running away, just trying to forget what had happened that day. What state she was in, ou how long she’d been driving she didn’t know anymore. It all happened so fast. The phone call, the yelling, the anger, and then everything went blurry and suivant thing she knew her father was lying died on the floor. What did I do? She asked herself as she tried to recall the events leading up to what she had begun to call “the blur.”
As she and her adoptive family were eating dinner, the phone rang. It was the doctors office with strange news on the results of the physical and blood test she took in order to continue playing water polo her junior year. She figured it couldn’t be much, maybe some old injury looked like it flared up again, but her theory was quickly proven wrong as she watched her father’s face fill with anger as the person on the other line spoke.
“Dad?” she asked confused as to what had caused this.
“I am not your father, toi mutant freak!” He yelled in the most hostile tone she had ever heard him speak in. She stood in in anger as her father continued to shout at her about how she never should’ve been adopted and called her biological parents six-eyed, three-legged monsters. Then it was blank, and the suivant thing she knew, the house was a mess, things were on feu and her father lay dead in front of her.
“Get out.” she hear her mother muter, “Get out Charlie!” With that Charlie ran out the door, a volé, étole her dad’s old Harley and took off with nowhere to go and nowhere to be, never to return to that place.
She gripped the handle bars tight as she sped up down the nearly abandoned interstate. The desolate road stretched on for miles. The loneliness hadn’t set in until now. Until this moment she was worried about what she was going to do ou where she was going to go. She looked down at the dog tags she was wearing as they danced around her neck. That piece of metal around her neck was the only link she had to her biological family. The dog tags were so mangled, it was impossible to read what was written on them. They looked as if they had been melted and gone through a garbage disposal, but they meant the world to her.
She looked back to the road. Charlotte Anderson, mutant and murderer, she thought to herself as she tried to contain her emotions, but within secondes she Lost control of the motorcycle and spun out onto the side of interstate. She heard a car pull over behind her.
“What do toi think your doing?” She heard a gruff voice ask.
“Uhgh-I-” Charlie muttered in pain as the man pulled the bike off from on haut, retour au début of her. He was a raged looking, unkempt man who looked like he hadn’t shaved in weeks. Charlie slowly began to sit up and pulled her casque off. The grungy man knelt down suivant to her, shocked when he saw how young she was and when he saw her hands literality burning a hole in her leather glove.
She flew down the empty interstate as fast as she could on that old motorcycle as midnight stars twinkled in sky above. She was running away, just trying to forget what had happened that day. What state she was in, ou how long she’d been driving she didn’t know anymore. It all happened so fast. The phone call, the yelling, the anger, and then everything went blurry and suivant thing she knew her father was lying died on the floor. What did I do? She asked herself as she tried to recall the events leading up to what she had begun to call “the blur.”
As she and her adoptive family were eating dinner, the phone rang. It was the doctors office with strange news on the results of the physical and blood test she took in order to continue playing water polo her junior year. She figured it couldn’t be much, maybe some old injury looked like it flared up again, but her theory was quickly proven wrong as she watched her father’s face fill with anger as the person on the other line spoke.
“Dad?” she asked confused as to what had caused this.
“I am not your father, toi mutant freak!” He yelled in the most hostile tone she had ever heard him speak in. She stood in in anger as her father continued to shout at her about how she never should’ve been adopted and called her biological parents six-eyed, three-legged monsters. Then it was blank, and the suivant thing she knew, the house was a mess, things were on feu and her father lay dead in front of her.
“Get out.” she hear her mother muter, “Get out Charlie!” With that Charlie ran out the door, a volé, étole her dad’s old Harley and took off with nowhere to go and nowhere to be, never to return to that place.
She gripped the handle bars tight as she sped up down the nearly abandoned interstate. The desolate road stretched on for miles. The loneliness hadn’t set in until now. Until this moment she was worried about what she was going to do ou where she was going to go. She looked down at the dog tags she was wearing as they danced around her neck. That piece of metal around her neck was the only link she had to her biological family. The dog tags were so mangled, it was impossible to read what was written on them. They looked as if they had been melted and gone through a garbage disposal, but they meant the world to her.
She looked back to the road. Charlotte Anderson, mutant and murderer, she thought to herself as she tried to contain her emotions, but within secondes she Lost control of the motorcycle and spun out onto the side of interstate. She heard a car pull over behind her.
“What do toi think your doing?” She heard a gruff voice ask.
“Uhgh-I-” Charlie muttered in pain as the man pulled the bike off from on haut, retour au début of her. He was a raged looking, unkempt man who looked like he hadn’t shaved in weeks. Charlie slowly began to sit up and pulled her casque off. The grungy man knelt down suivant to her, shocked when he saw how young she was and when he saw her hands literality burning a hole in her leather glove.