I take a deep breath as I pin the translucent white veil to my elaborately-styled hair, before draping it over my immaculately made-up face. I fidget a bit in my dress, causing the voluminous strapless creation to rustle, especially as I adjust the low-cut sweetheart neckline. I nervously tap my feet in my low-heeled shoes (Low-heeled as my fiancé is only a couple of inches taller than me), before a call from the next room tell me that it is, at long last, showtime. I grab the bouquet of flowers from the nearby table and step out of my small annex with a wide grin on my face.

He is wrong, and thanks to the help of a girl from his class he is forced explore a side of him he's always hated, and ends up facing some unpleasant truths. Family isn't always to be trusted.
 

Lee-Anne strolled along the beach, following the line of canoes set there for the race that would be starting in a little while. She was thinking about her summers at this camp, her first time being the summer that she was thirteen, then the last three years, including this summer; she felt a slight sense of regret that she had not been here three years ago, but her need to be herself was far more important at that time. Most of her camp experiences here had been quite enjoyable, and it was often a place that Lee-Anne could relax and let go of all the stress.

This is part of a story which will feature forced femme, subliminal messaging as a form of mind control and some physical/emotional abuse.

The tags I've marked are relevant to the story as a whole. The not safe caution is for the whole story, the violence caution is for this chapter.

Anyone in the story, unless specifically stated otherwise, is a fictional character. Places in the story are real.

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1. Monday, January 6, 2014, 1:35 PM Anchor Vans, Bath Rd., Padworth, Reading

I'm either insane, or the next closest thing to it. I'm going to try to follow in Angharad's footsteps by doing a serial story.

I will likely post a piece for it every two or three days, as I do have other stories on the go at the moment.

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"...I think people might be staring," I whispered to Ophelia as we walked through the cramped shopping centre.

"What they wish to do with their eyes is their business, not ours," Ophelia replied, holding her head high even as every head we passed turned to look in our direction.

"Easy for you to say," I mumbled as I tried not to let my cheeks go too red.

The five emoticons of Joy, Anger, Fear, Disgust, and Sadness adapt to Chris' family moving to San Francisco. Disaster strikes as Sadness takes over the control center in Chris' mind sending him into a world of despair and self-loathing. As Chris begins to change, can Joy take back control and save his life?

I dived for the trash can and I vomited into it. I was on my knees, my eyes closed, the acrid, sour smell rose from the can. I convulse again as Dr. Corning opens her door and yells out to bring the nurse. I feel a hand on my back rubbing in a circular motion. She’s trying to soothe me as I break into a cold sweat. I wretch again filling the trash can. She’s resumes rubbing my back softly. I hear the rush of footsteps towards me getting louder. I moan as I begin to cry. “It’s going to be okay.” Dr. Corning says softly. “You’re going to be okay. You don’t have to do any of that anymore. I’ll make sure you won’t have any more interaction with the cheerleading squad or the coaches.”