Walking Talking Disaster with A Bad Attitude}}Ben!

[isabella]

Saturday was finally here again. It was nearing lunch time and the young Slytherin student who went by the name of Isabella Swan still hadn’t taken a break from her dancing. She had woken up at six in the morning with all of her different dance equipment and snuck out of her dorm unnoticed, making her way to the dance room. Wearing nothing but a pair of boy short panties and a baggy t-shirt, she charmed the room so that music would play according to her dance.

This was the way it was since Axel broke her heart. It’s always that way when she’s upset. Bella would work herself until she collapsed of sheer exhaustion. Recently, she was thinking of visiting her mothers side of the family in the states. She remembered the last time she was there with her father. She had been introduced to a young man only a year older than her, and was trusted with a huge secret after probing both him and her father for information on who he was. Pushing that thought from her mind she focused on dancing so that she could push herself further.

She started with jazz, then moved to hip hop, then point, and finally ballet. Bell spent two hours practicing each type of muggle dance. While she was spinning on the tip of her toe, she tripped, and twisted her ankle half way around. She wasn’t done with her Saturday practice, and she wasn’t about to let a minor twisted ankle stop the next two hours from occurring. She switched out of her ballet slippers and into her tap shoes extra carefully, careful not to move her ankle to much.

Standing up she started to do her tap routine. While doing a cartwheel, her shoe came off and the blade cut into her forehead deeply. Of course, she should’ve sucked up the pain and fastened the strap on it tighter, even if her ankle did hurt. She quickly flipped back over feeling her bangs sticking to her forehead with blood. F***ing brillant. She thought to herself as she walked over to her bag of clothes. She whipped out her wand and transported herself to the Hospital Wing. The floor was cold on her bare foot, and it sent chills through her spine even though it was barley on the floor, since she was favoring her ankle. Looking around for the healer she called out, “I need help!”

hey it’s, finished!!
cause you’re awesomeBen
they’re all, count ‘em plesee
i love them, template @ + stockholm syndrome / lyrics @ the script *live like we’re dying
just letting you know, “shirt shorts”

I’m sorry it’s so suckish, I’m working with low muse.