Fractured (Josie) novel Chapter 1

Chapter 1

“Good Morning ladies!” The dorm senior, Jenna, shouts as she makes her way down the corridor of the dorms, banging on each door as she goes. I roll over with a groan and stretch to pick up my phone. I read the time and then rub my eyes before checking the time again because there’s no way I read it right. Glancing around the room I feel confident that my eyes are now working correctly and check the time again.

“Mother fluffer!” I curse under my breath. I was right the first time. It’s 5:30 AM! That confirms my suspicions that perfect Jenna with the too-friendly smile is evil. It’s the first day of university and classes start at 9 AM. Why on earth is she waking the whole dorm up at 5:30? I can hear grumbling and cursing from the other girls through the paper-thin walls as Jenna loudly announces that it’s shower time. I grab the pillow and press it over my head to try and block out the noise. I had my alarm set for 8 AM, which would have given me plenty of time to shower and have breakfast before our first class. I manage to block out enough of the noise that I start drifting back to sleep. BANG, BANG, BANG!

“Josie Banks, room number 5, I don’t hear any movement in there!” Jenna’s sickly sweet voice calls through the door as she hammers on it, then she begins to rattle the door handle. With a huff I chuck my pillow on the floor, throw back my covers and get up, stomping to the door I yank it open.

“It is 5:30 AM!” I hiss at Jenna. She smiles with fake sympathy as she looks me up and down.

“I am aware of the time Miss Banks, but this year’s stock is going to need extra time to get ready if we are going to make any of you look presentable,” she grins.

“We are not cattle,” I huff and begin to shut the door in her face. She stops it with a foot in the doorway and looks down at her clipboard.

“Josie Banks, eighteen years old, here to study criminology. Father is deceased, mother suffers from psychosis and currently resides in a secure hospital. Josie needs support to process her emotions and would benefit greatly from structure and routine. Josie has no other living rel…” I cut her off by snatching the clipboard from her hand and reading the information sheet she had on me. With every word I read of my personal information, my anger grows, like each letter adds fuel to the already growing fire within me. Who gave her this information? She’s just a senior student with a voluntary role as dorm leader, she has no right or need for this information. This is a breach of privacy.

“How did you get this?” I seeth. Students gather in the corridor, their attention now focused on the drama unfolding in front of them.