Lyanna was a very pretty girl by most standards. Her silvery-white hair, which she insisted was natural, fell to her mid-back in loose waves. Her eyes were the color of chocolate and as deep as the ocean. She got decent grades and was just an average, mild-mannered, quiet young lady.
At least, that's what most people thought.
She was the new girl in town, a curiosity for the attendants of the High School. This was the third time she'd moved this year.
Lyanna sat on her front porch, reading a battered old book. Bruises, scabs, and scars covered her arms, legs, and face. Her jeans looked too small and had rips in both of the knees. The skin on her knees were scabbed up badly. Her shirt was navy blue and too form-fitting. Both looked worn out, as did her shoes. She shivered a little; it was early morning, just before school. A small black backpack sat next to her.
((Hope this works, Toasty.))
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