L
Lily Anna Moreland


He was devine in every thing he would do. With his full lips and porcelain teeth, he projected a smile of full gold; and a frown, I'm sure, of a broken rainbow being misted upon the damp earth after a heavy rain. With his eyes sparkling like the ocean basking under moonlight in all its glory, and his eyelashes casting a hurricane each time he blinked, all of the stars in all of the galaxies put together would never rise to the bright shine of the blue band rapped around each of his pupils. He would destroy me. The end to my sanity, the death of my mental health would be him. But that's alright. That's what I wanted. Oh, he would be worth my mind's innocence and peace.


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#dark #comedy #drama #tragedy #Thriller #obsession
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Chapter 1: Halo and Horns.

Hi, my name is Zoey O'Dell. Let me tell you a little about myself.

I was sixteen when I met the love of my life. Now, I know what you're probably thinking, "Some dumb teenager thinks she's found Prince Charming, and is going to blab about until they stop dating in three seconds". But I can assure you: my story is nothing like that.

I fell in love (more like was cursed) when a tall, lean, sun kissed, brown haired, blue eyed, muscular Mr. Scott Lenner moved to my horrid, little town, Black Creek Crossing in my state, Indiana to teach history.

He was the most exquisite, beautiful, breath taking thing I had ever seen.

He did more than just catch my wondering eye, he jerked the heart out of my chest and squeezed it as he held it within his grasp, smiling that soul crushing, "neal down for me" type of smile while the blood my cardiac muscle produced dripped from his hand, down his brawny arm, and eventually down his sleeve.

Excuse me. I can be a quite visual, creative-in-a-dark-way creature.

Now that I gave you a small amount of in site, let me show you the day I first laid eyes on the cravable sweetheart-

The day was sunny and warm, the kind I hate. It was the beginning of the school year, and was entering junior high. At sixteen years old, I know, that's bad. But I was held back for a few years, since I spent most of my time in rehab because of my obsessions, depression, and what not.

"Zoey," My best friend, Rory Lowe talked my head off as she was over, raiding my closet for something to wear on the first day of school. "Do you think Brice would like me in this dress?"

Brice was the air-headed boy Rory had been drooling over ever since the third grade, and now, it was worse as he earned the label, "captain of the football team".

Rory held my favorite black dress up against her, making it flaunt her curvy figure.

"Sure." I said, not hiding my disapproval. Rory was blessed with gobs and gobs of curly, red hair, was gifted with sparkling, hazel eyes and was praised for her award winning smile. She didn't need to waste her time trying to fetch the attention of a immature, brainless collection of cells like Brice Campton.

She sighed, rolling her eyes and hissing. "Zoey, you know you'd understand if you were in love."

She said the word love as if it were true.

"Yeah..." I said. "Anyways, I heard we're getting a teacher all the way from New York."

And that would be the one I would later lose my sanity for.

Rory nodded. "He's supposed to be our history teacher. "

"Oh, great! That means he'll hate me." I was never that awesome at history, no matter how fascinating and important it might be.

Rory grinned, momentarily consumed with perfecting her hot pink lipstick. "Well, you can copy me in the tests."

I struggled to get a brush through my tangled, brown rat's nest of hair. "I doubt that'll do any good. You're too distracted by Brice."

She scoffed then started pulling her hair into a messy bun. "Now you sound like a teacher." She paused. "No. Now you sound like my mom."

I laughed.


It was about an hour later before we got to school.

And "lucky" enough for me, history was our first class, followed by geometry, P.E., chemistry, and all of the etc.

At least I had most of my classes with my best friend, right?

She would never send countless amounts of sticky notes to my desk, talking about how ugly and stupid her crush's new girlfriend, Emma Peterson was. Never ever.

When we walked down the hall, Rory was of course chattering something that was really none of my own concern, my ears neglecting listening...

Then there it was. The door with the word history written on it and a small, dirty window revealing and withholding the end to my sanity, mental health, and the ability to focus on anything other than him.

Mr. Scott Lenner.

At the teacher's desk, he stood facing the rest of the class room, tightening his tie.

I felt like I was going to faint when it flashed before my eyes. By it, I mean my ruthless, guilty future caused by this wingless angel. Little did I know he had a halo and horns. Well, let's get to that later.

"Hello?!" Rory waved her hands in front of my face, desperate for my attention. "Are you even listening?!"

"We need to get to class..." I was sure she could hear the anxiety and fear in my voice. This was going to crush me. This was going to devour me whole.

I shoved the door open, not waiting for my friend to grab it before I fled to the back of the classroom and sat down, avoiding eye contact with this man, though I stared a hole through himany time he wasn't looking my way.

"Alright, class," He said, smiling brightly once all of the students shuffled into their seats. "My name is Scott Lenner-" He pointed at his name written on the chalkboard- "You may call me Mr. Lenner, or however you may. I will be your teacher for the next year."

Obvious, a bit. Just a little bit.

"I hope we will have a wonderful year together." He finished.

Then he did the name calling, making sure we were all here, blah, blah, blah...

Apparently when he called on my name, I didn't notice. I guess I may have been too busy memorizing his name and saying it over and over again in my head.

"Zoey O'Dell...?" He said for probably the hundredth time.

"She's here." Rory answered for me, then gave me a look that might as well have screamed, "What the hell, dude?"

I shrugged, as to say that I was deep in thought. Well, at least it wasn't a lie. She passed me a pink sticky note, and I sighed internally to know that it was beginning.

"What's wrong with you?" The note read.

"Nothing." I wrote in tiny letters under her words.

"Tell me!" She wrote back in big, bold letters that took up the rest of the space on the sticky note. I turned it over, and wrote, "We're all supposed to be silently reading, and you're going to fail history. Ttyl, k?"

(In case you didn't know, ttyl means talk to you later, and k means OK.)

Rory huffed out a sigh, rolled her eyes and then mouthed "Fine".

Good. I thought. Now I have the rest of the class to stare at the new teacher. Oh, no. Rory wasn't going to fail history, I was.

'Cause the only thing I was studying was the teacher's face, clothing, voice and that perfectly curved body.


Hi, my name is Zoey O'Dell. Let me tell you a little about myself.

I was sixteen when I met the love of my life. Now, I know what you're probably thinking, "Some dumb teenager thinks she's found Prince Charming, and is going to blab about until they stop dating in three seconds". But I can assure you: my story is nothing like that.

I fell in love (more like was cursed) when a tall, lean, sun kissed, brown haired, blue eyed, muscular Mr. Scott Lenner moved to my horrid, little town, Black Creek Crossing in my state, Indiana to teach history.

He was the most exquisite, beautiful, breath taking thing I had ever seen.

He did more than just catch my wondering eye, he jerked the heart out of my chest and squeezed it as he held it within his grasp, smiling that soul crushing, "neal down for me" type of smile while the blood my cardiac muscle produced dripped from his hand, down his brawny arm, and eventually down his sleeve.

Excuse me. I can be a quite visual, creative-in-a-dark-way creature.

Now that I gave you a small amount of in site, let me show you the day I first laid eyes on the crave able sweetheart-

The day was sunny and warm, the kind I hate. It was the beginning of the school year, and was entering junior high. At sixteen years old, I know, that's bad. But I was held back for a few years, since I spent most of my time in rehab because of my obsessions, depression, illusions and what not.

"Zoey," My best friend, Rory Lowe talked my head off as she was over, raiding my closet for something to wear on the first day of school. "Do you think Brice would like me in this dress?"

Brice was the air headed boy Rory had been drooling over ever since the third grade, and now, it was worse as he earned the label, "captain of the football team".

Rory held my favorite black dress up against her, making it flaunt her curvy figure.

"Sure." I said, not hiding my disapproval. Rory was blessed with gobs and gobs of curly, red hair, was gifted with sparkling, hazel eyes and was praised for her award winning smile. She didn't need to waste her time trying to fetch the attention of a immature, brainless collection of cells like Brice Campton.

She sighed, rolling her eyes and hissing. "Zoey, you know you'd understand if you were in love."

She said the word love as if it were true.

"Yeah..." I said. "Anyways, I heard we're getting a teacher all the way from New York."

And that would be the one I would later lose my sanity for.

Rory nodded. "He's supposed to be our history teacher. "

"Oh, great! That means he'll hate me." I was never that awesome at history, no matter how fascinating and important it might be.

Rory grinned, momentarily consumed with perfecting her hot pink lipstick. "Well, you can copy me in the tests."

I struggled to get a brush through my tangled, brown rat's nest of hair. "I doubt that'll do any good. You're too distracted by Brice."

She scoffed then started pulling her hair into a messy bun. "Now you sound like a teacher." She paused. "No. Now you sound like my mom."

I laughed.


It was about an hour later before we got to school.

And "lucky" enough for me, history was our first class, followed by geometry, P.E., chemistry, and all of the etc.

At least I had most of my classes with my best friend, right?

She would never send countless amounts of sticky notes to my desk, talking about how ugly and stupid her crush's new girlfriend, Emma Peterson was. Never ever.

When we walked down the hall, Rory was of course chattering something that was really none of my own concern, my ears neglecting listening...

Then there it was. The door with the word history written on it and a small, dirty window revealing and withholding the end to my sanity, mental health, and the ability to focus on anything other than him.

Mr. Scott Lenner.

At the teacher's desk, he stood facing the rest of the class room, tightening his tie.

I felt like I was going to faint when it flashed before my eyes. By it, I mean my ruthless, guilty future caused by this wingless angel. Little did I know he had a halo and horns. Well, let's get to that later.

"Hello?!" Rory waved her hands in front of my face, desperate for my attention. "Are you even listening?!"

"We need to get to class..." I was sure she could hear the anxiety and fear in my voice. This was going to crush me. This was going to devour me whole.

I shoved the door open, not waiting for my friend to grab it before I fled to the back of the classroom and sat down, avoiding eye contact with this man, though I stared a hole through him any time he wasn't looking my way.

"Alright, class," He said, smiling brightly once all of the students shuffled into their seats. "My name is Scott Lenner-" He pointed at his name written on the chalkboard- "You may call me Mr. Lenner, or however you may. I will be your teacher for the next year."

Obvious, a bit. Just a little bit.

"I hope we will have a wonderful year together." He finished.

Then he did the name calling, making sure we were all here, blah, blah, blah...

Apparently when he called on my name, I didn't notice. I guess I may have been too busy memorizing his name and saying it over and over again in my head.

"Zoey O'Dell...?" He said for probably the hundredth time.

"She's here." Rory answered for me, then gave me a look that might as well have screamed, "What the hell, dude?"

I shrugged, as to say that I was deep in thought. Well, at least it wasn't a lie. She passed me a pink sticky note, and I sighed internally to know that it was beginning.

"What's wrong with you?" The note read.

"Nothing." I wrote in tiny letters under her words.

"Tell me!" She wrote back in big, bold letters that took up the rest of the space on the sticky note. I turned it over, and wrote, "We're all supposed to be silently reading, and you're going to fail history. Ttyl, k?"

(In case you didn't know, ttyl means talk to you later, and k means OK.)

Rory huffed out a sigh, rolled her eyes and then mouthed "Fine".

Good. I thought. Now I have the rest of the class to stare at the new teacher. Oh, no. Rory wasn't going to fail history, I was.

'Cause the only thing I was studying was the teacher's face, clothing, voice and that perfectly curved body.



1 декабря 2021 г. 22:57:55 1 Отчет Добавить Подписаться
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