It was a dark and stormy night.

Not really. It was actually bright outside, birds chirping and kids playing.

But in my heart, it was a pit of darkness.

Black as the eyeliner I drew on my lids. Black as the polish I spread on my nails. Black as the leather jacket I pulled over my arms.

I guess they thought of me as their leader, The Dark Ones. But in reality, I hated the gang. Hated how they trapped me in the black clothes and makeup, turning my heart hard as stone.

Everyday, I got up for school. I did my makeup; black eye makeup and dark red lipstick. I pulled on clothes made wholly of black leather.

I dodged my parents on the way out the door so they wouldn't see my get up, walking to the corner to meet the gang. They'd have my motorcycle waiting. We'd rode to school, making noise, spraying things with spray paint cans, and scaring little kids.

The rest of the gang thought that I liked it.

I didn't.

.....

Once we got into school, we spent all the time before homeroom putting pranks in place, breaking hearts, and terrorizing freshmen.

During homeroom, we messed up our teachers, making them forget the role call and marking everyone absent. Then, we dodged the principal and spent lunch stealing people's lunch money. Study hall was the time for redoing makeup and for costume changes (one leather jacket for another).

After school was over, we went to the club, where one of our gang member's cousins let us in free. We danced the afternoons away and I let my gang members get way too drunk, though I never drank.

We all ate dinner at one of the member's houses. Usually we'd have a sleepover and then sneak into our own houses at 3 am.

.....

That was a normal day in my life. It was a life full of dark and stormy nights. And I knew that they'd never stop if I didn't quit the gang. But I didn't have the courage. And so those dark and stormy nights raged on.

THE END