a disturbed child - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing

Dakota was a sweet and gentle child when I knew her, though it may sound like a cliche, it’s true. Her hair was lighter back then, chestnut I suppose and she would braid it for hours in front of the mirror; but Dakota was already disturbed by the age of six. Though the toilet was only a few metres from her bedroom she would crawl under an old pool table and urinate on the carpet. No-one knows why she did it. It was as if some animal instinct drove her to do it, to hide somewhere dark, somewhere that felt safe. She played with her dolls and was kind to her siblings. She was a fighter, never staying down if she fell or got knocked. She would go out of her way to be nice to other kids at school, but mostly stuck to just two friends who didn’t mind how old her clothes were. Did I say she has freckles? She does. She was a skinny kid but mostly healthy. She loved animals, as most little girls do. She hated jelly and sausages. She was a teacher pleaser, always doing her best in classes and clever too, learning quickly. But her childhood was rough from the start, some kids have it worse, but her home was turmoil and violence; not constantly, but enough to make her less stable than she should have been. I wish I could have saved her from the years ahead of her, but I was only a teen myself back then.

Mav stared at the wooden desk, his eyes reading the same graffiti as last week and all the weeks before. Digging his thumb nail into the cheap pine top, he got to work on making the gouge deeper he'd started the lesson before. With a mouth full of chewed pencil wood and graphite he glared at Mr Lancarn who had the nerve to ask him a question. After a full minute the face off had the class in silent rapture. Then with the same glee as the class pet revealing their homework, Mav smiled widely to show his grey teeth. Over his desktop were the eraser ends of Sir's pencil supply. Mr Lancarn blanched...