Chapter one

Grrizzzzzzzzz! Grrizzzzzzzz!

I struggled to turn off alarm without opening my eyes. Yes it was my alarm that sounded like that. It originally sounded like `Ringggggg! Ringggggggg!` But it was a like million years old. I scooted to the edge of my bed and tried to reach for the alarm eyes closed and to snooze it, just five more minutes, five more minutes of bliss, my hand not fully awake swiped and everything on my nightstand ended up in the floor with loud crashing noises which jolted me awake and led my to scrambling movements that had me sliding off the bed, my tangled bed sheets wrapped around and entrapping my left leg.

I quickly held on to the floral patterned curtain at my window and ended up pulling the whole thing off as I ended up on the floor, the curtain over me, my alarm clock still of course ringing.

My name is Catherine and I hate my life.

"What the fucking hell is wrong with you."

A 40 year old woman barged into the room with an overnight mask raised to the top of her head and a concoction of of green disaster that was supposed to be a treatment for her skin but will never do anything to help her mangle, evil, dastardly, hopeless, -

"You ungrateful thing. Because I allow you the privilege to go to school you think to ruin my house?"

"Its my father's house."

I muttered cause it was the truth.

The truth though does not always save you cause I got a red cheek that day for my efforts. A result of the slap she gave me in case you were wondering.

I'm just glad my little sister Emma wasn't around to see that. She was currently off at a sleepover and was a sweet little 13 year old thing that didn't deserve to live with or even know people like my step mother exist. Yes that thing was a human thing my father married. Why? I don't know either.

My life wasn't always this bad. I had a loving mother, loving father, annoying little sister that I constantly want to murder. A perfect family.

And then my mom died of a terrible malaria fever on a trip to Africa.

My dad of course was grieving and grew distant. If only it stopped at that though. He started drinking and smoking and all those bad habits they talk about in the movies about abusive fathers. You read that right. I cleared my throat and mentally read; Abusive: Noun: Prone to treat someone badly by coarse, insulting words or other maltreatment; reproachful; scurrilous. . . . Or was it an adverb? English isn't my best subject. I know weird right? Anyways the first time he hit me was when I refused to get him a beer. I was 13 just like my sister is now and refused to get him a beer because it had been 2 years since mom died and he needed to cut the crap. He was remorseful when he was sober he'd apologize and take us the park. Problem was that he was only sober once in two months.

My annoying sister became the reason for me to try everyday. I do it for her. Or maybe for future me, I don't know anymore these days.

He died in a car accident -don't drink and drive folks- I knew my father had become a drunk but I never thought he'd be as stupid as to drive while drunk.

We would have been sent to am orphanage or foster home, assuming he hadn't married that witch 5 days ago.

I know, I know, it sounds too much like a fictional Cinderella story, but unfortunately in my case, there is no prince looking for me with a glass slipper in hand.

I looked at the ugly curtain on the floor. I'll have to fix that before leaving for school.

I hate my mornings. It sucks ever since my mom died, sometimes I find myself wondering what could be worse than my present, little did I know I was about to be forced into the the worse aspect of my life.

I am a soon to be 20 year old college student at this varsity a few miles away. St. Louis Cardinal was a school for rich kids. I don't know why my stepmother can let me go to a school like this, but I'm not mad at it. At all.

Unlike in the high school movies, most of these kids aren't bullies or anything mostly because they are too fragile and bothered about how to make their twenty third birthday bigger than their twenty second -while they are still twenty. Mostly rich kids being mean is a stereotype. And poor kids being the bullied ones? Also stereo type. I have 2 best friends one of who's father is a minister and the other is the next thing to Jeff Bezos. They are the richest kids in school and I bully them all the time.

Maybe I don't get discriminated because of my friends or the bitchy assholes in the school haven't found me yet. Either ways I love my school life.

I walked into the school premises and walk past the student's parking lot which was filled with exotic cars ranging from ferraris, lambos to all those other fancy cars I never bother to learn the name of.

I should hate being in a school like this, right? Where all I see are spoilt rich kids who can't clean their shoes on their own if you put a gun to their heads. Okay maybe a little exaggeration but you get my point. I don't have an issue with their lifestyle, cause they aren't trying to brag -well some of them- it's just the way they were brought up. Sometimes I get a little envious but its okay, I'm only human.

"What up bitch."

Emerald one of the best friend I mentioned earlier said goodnaturedly walking up to my right side.

She is around my 5ft 7 height with blond hair green eyes like mine and perfect teeth.

"Hey B. I had a dream we made pretty babies."

And that is Beast - don't ask me why his parents named him that.- and contrary to his name he is very much a soft little thing. Around 5 ft 9 with black hair a shade darker than mine, and blue eyes and a body that guys will kill to have. He is the very definition of sex on legs and very much gay and he thinks no one knows.

"My teddy bear."I hugged him.

"Hey. How comes I never get a hug."Emerald pouted.

"Because I'm not into girls." I smirked.

"Even if you were you last person on earth I wouldn't do you." She said.

"That is impossible emerald. If she were infact the last person on earth you wouldn't exist." Beast as always has my back.

Even though we were studying different courses it never affects our friendship.

Beast is studying psychology and Emerald English literature. Barf. I hate English. In high school I'd prefer to be run over by moving train than take an English course that wasn't compulsory.

And now I'm studying Pure and Applied Chemistry. Sigh. I should have applied English literature.

Oh well I'm I didn't and now I'm stuck calculating acids.

Ew. Okay you got me, I just hate education in general.

I went to my chemical structure and bonding class and after exchanging casual Hellos and His, I as usual took a seat in the middle of the class.

I saw my reflection in the window across from me and hated it. I have to apply makeup sometimes to cover the physical bruises but how does no one see the pain in my eyes. Not even my best friends. I mean they definitely know something is wrong but had never really gotten around to finding out. I really wish they knew cause it'd be easier than saying 'Attention Emerald and Beast. I am about to tell you my horrible life story so that you may pity me and give me money to run away with my sister.'

Yeah, not so good. Don't get me wrong. I don't want their money. Their sympathies maybe a tiny little bit of me wants it but call me prideful or whatever but I'm not a charity case.

My sister gets home today from their school trip. I hope she doesn't meet our step mother in a too foul mood cause she's always in a foul mood as long as it's my sister and I. Why won't she kick us out though, I have no idea but I'm grateful because we have a roof over our heads atleast.

Sometimes I do think myself as Cinderella, wash the dishes, do the mopping, the sweeping, and don't forget the stripping.

Yes stripping. The nights I hate more than my mornings are spent in a stripping club. Thank to my step mother dearest of course.

I could be a waitress, cashier or even a bartender but no. I am a College student by day and stripper by night.

Sigh.

I am in severe hate with life.

Don't get me wrong I'm not suicidal or anything. I am not going out without proving to this woman that despite all her efforts I am a winner. I shan't fold. Not to mention, what would happen to my sister if I did.

The idea is sometimes tempting though. Until I met him.