Violet Eyes and the Gang Girl by Patricia Galindez (rm book recommendations .TXT) 📖

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And two days after the whole court thing, here I am in the juvenile center. I've been locked up in here for a month now, and this place isn't as different as my school. Everyone hates me. They also think of me as a freak with violet eyes. But, the feeling is mutual, I hate them all, too.

So, anyway this place sucks big time. Though if this is how juvie is like, can't imagine what it'll be like in Jail with guys all big and buff. Okay, so already covered up about people hating me --which is nothing new --, oh yeah, if you think cafeteria food is bad, you should check out what they serve here. There's the stale bread, watery soup with stuff inside that looks like someone's organs, mystery meat, and other gross stuff. We usually get to go outside out in the courtyard, but I prefer to stay inside if the majority of the people are going to be outside.

Well, right now I'm just getting my food in the cafeteria, which happens to be mystery meat. As I walked to find a place to sit, someone stuck their foot out, and tripped me, making my food fall all over me. Everyone in the room was laughing their heads off. A guard came and escorted me out of the cafeteria to a nearby bathroom to get cleaned up.

When we got there, I went inside, and went straight to the showers. It was always better to shower alone than showering with the other guys there. Not only do they give me a hard time because of my eyes, but my body as well. They all see how my body is not as built as theirs, but see how slim and bruised it is. It always made me self-conscious.

I stripped into nothing as I turned on the water. It felt nice and just plain relaxing, so I just stood there for a while enjoying it. Just minutes after, I began to clean my long shaggy blackish-brown hair from all the mystery meat.

After I was done, went back to get my clothes, but what I saw was a new clean orange jumpsuit that everyone was suppose to wear and a towel. I'm guessing the guard brought these in here. I grabbed the towel and dried myself up before I picked up my boxers and put them on. Then I put on my white T-shirt that I had to wear under my jumpsuit, along with the jumpsuit and shoes.

I exited the bathroom, but by now everyone should be in their cells by now. I went to my cell, which is located on the third floor, and saw one of the guards. He opened my cell, and locked me in as soon as I went inside. My cells doesn't have much, just a single bed, sink, mirror, and toilet. I looked at myself in the mirror, and all I saw was a freak with those eyes that everyone hated.

I heavily sighed, and lied down on my bed to rest my eyes.


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I woke up in a room that was familiar to me. Taking my surroundings, I noticed that this room was my bedroom. It looked the same as it looked a month ago, my bed unmade, clothes spread around my floor, just like any teenage guys room. I wondered how I got here if I was in my cell in juvie.

Throwing those thoughts aside, I opened my door to go see if anything has changed since I left. Apparently, nothing has. All the beer bottles were still lying around the whole house.

When I made it to the kitchen, I found my mother there. She noticed me standing there, and glared at me.

“What are you doing back here, Blake? Can't you see we are better off without you?” she questioned.

“I don't know.” I honestly didn't know how I got back here. It was all a blur.

“What you should know is that you're not welcome here anymore. We're finally happy that you left and you're not gonna ruin that. Now get out of this house before I call the police to send your ass back to that prison!” she yelled.

I nodded before I got out of the house into the streets, knowing that she was right. I don't belong there anymore. Never did.

I walked down the streets while people gave me weird looks like I was some kind of odd animal. I hated it when I was treated so different from everyone else. If only I can just end this misery. But, an idea struck in my head, now knowing how I could do it.

Running all the way to the bridge where it goes over the deep water, that's how I'm gonna do it. I ran to the bridge railing, and just climbed over to the other side. As I looked at the water, I thought that it would be freezing cold. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly before I let go of the railing, plunging into the water. Like I said before, the water was freezing cold. I wouldn't regret this decision as I sank lower and lower in the water. Everyone was right. I would be better if I wasn't around anymore.

Everything was blackening, my last breath has left my lungs, then --


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My eyes burst open, and my breathing was heavy. I was in my cell. I've been here the whole time. It was all just a dream, but the feeling I had wasn't.

My cell door opened moments later to reveal one of the guards. “Come on, kid. You're late for you sessions with Mr. Wilson,” he said. Mr. Wilson was my Counselor. Even if I attended the sessions with him, I never spoke a word since I got here. I could have thought the guy would hate me already with me wasting his time, but he never gave me a deadly glare, or any sign that he was getting impatient with me.

I got up from the bed, stretching a bit before I followed the guard out the door. I always needed an escort to my counselings, for a reason I don't know. We both walked through the halls in peace since everyone else was still in their cells. I had to attend these meetings twice a week on Mondays and Fridays, but if I ever needed to talk or vent, he said I was welcome to come by anytime. Though I never did.

We finally arrived to Mr. Wilson's office, and the guard left me there. Letting out a deep sigh, I raised my hand to knock on the door. And as soon as I heard a 'come in' from Mr. Wilson, I opened the door to find him on his desk filing some papers.

Mr. Wilson lifted his head towards me, and gave me a small smile, “Well Blake, you're a little late, but just take a seat,” he motioned to the chair. Mr. Wilson was defiantly young, like mid-twenties. He had black short hair, forest green eyes, a light tanned skin, and when we first met, he towered over me by a few inches. I would estimate about 5'11, making me 5'8.

I took a seat across from him, waiting for this to be over.

“Alright, so how was your day?” he asked with curious eyes.

It was shit now that you mention it. But I didn't say that.

“Come on, there has to be something you'd like to share,” he said with determination in his voice.

That's unlikely.

“Well, my day went rather well. Sure maybe it was full with other meetings with other people, but it's nice talking and helping them. It's always good helping others, even if it wasn't much.”

Please stop talking, I don't want to hear this crap about helping people when nobody even bothered to help me.

“And the way you just scrunched up your face, I take it that your not into helping people, right?”

I kept my face neutral, not letting anything slip by.

“Is there a reason behind that, Blake?”

Nothing.

“Come on, you can tell me.”

Sigh, he's never letting it go. “I hate them,” I muttered.

He smiled, probably because he got something out of me.

“What do hate, Blake?”

“Everyone,” I muttered again.

“Why do you hate everyone?” I mentally groaned. Why couldn't he stop questioning me? “Blake, come on, we're improving here.”

“Everyone hates me. So I hate them,” I said, my face neutral and voice monotone.

“Why do they hate you?”

“My eyes,” I spat at the word 'eyes'. If I have normal colored eyes I wouldn't be in this mess.

“Why would they hate you because of your eyes?”

This is getting on my nerves. Why this? Why that? Why? Why? Why?

I threw him a cold glare, and hopefully he'll figure out why when he looks at my glaring eyes.

After a while of him looking at me, he said, “I find nothing wrong with them.”

Okay, that made me blow up.

“Are you fucking serious?! What do you mean there's nothing wrong with them!! Are you fucking blind?! They're violet!! There's nothing normal about that!! People think of me as a freak because of them!!” I yelled.

“Blake, just calm down. I find nothing wrong with them because it's what make you you. It's what make you special. Everyone has something that makes them special, and yours happen to be your violet colored eyes.”

“Tell that to everyone, then. They don't care. My own mother looked at me like some type of alien when I was born. It's my fault she and my dad turned into what they are now. They couldn't believe with their own eyes that they created a freak.”

It's true. Mom and dad went ballistic when they found out what they created. Mom turned into a drinker, trying to make herself forget she had a freak for a son. And when that didn't work, she went around hooking up with random men behind dad's back. He eventually found out that his own wife was cheating on him, causing him to blame me she started doing this to him. That's when he turned into the devil's twin, doing anything, and I mean anything he could to torment me, making me wish I was never born.

“What do you mean 'the way they are now'? How is it your fault?”he asked.

“It's not really any of your business,” I answered coldly.