ROXANNE’S POINT OF VIEW.

My nails dug into my palms, creating crescent moon shapes as I bit my lip angrily. I stared at my uniform with disdain; the plain colours meant for the scholarship kids felt like salt on an injury as I tried my hardest not to scream.

My name is Roxanne Lemaire; my grandmother’s last name was the name I’d chosen to take on because it felt exotic, perfect, luxurious. I was the fucking queen!

Not Sloane fucking Bishop….oh right, ...