Chapter 1: Something’s Definitely Wrong
I cannot believe I’m doing this. Being out with Mom is the last thing I want to do, especially when it involves shopping.
My graduation is tomorrow, and they have assigned me the duty of giving the closing speech. I can’t focus on what she’s saying right now as I’m too worried I’ll forget what I’m supposed to say.
Mom hovers around me as I attempt to perfect my graduation speech in my head. She’s always been one for appearances, and graduation is no exception. She can be overbearing and demanding at the best of times and downright controlling at the worst.
“Olivia! You must make a lasting impression. All eyes will be on you, you know!” she snaps at me.
She’s irritated because instead of focusing on her lessons about making an impression, I’m running through the speech in my head, effectively ignoring her.
I nod as my anxiety builds by the second. The thought of facing hundreds of people, even from behind a podium, makes my heart race.
The sun beats down on us, warming the air, and the distant hum of chatter from other people shopping does nothing to help my concentration.
“And darling,” she continues, her tone dripping with disapproval, “I can’t believe you don’t know how to put on makeup. I’ve scheduled someone to come in the morning to fix you up properly. You can’t represent our family looking like... well, like you usually do.”
I glance at my watch, silently willing the hours to pass faster. We have already filled my day with shopping for an outfit that screams confidence and success despite my every instinct urging me to wear what’s comfortable.
As the day wears on, a growing sense of unease tightens its grip on me. It starts as a subtle discomfort, a nagging feeling in my mind.
But soon, my head hurts, I’m lightheaded and dizzy, and the world around me blurs as if I’m seeing it through a haze. The distant scent of the various restaurants and the delicate aroma of Mom’s expensive perfume is not helping, either.
However, I trudge on in misery as Mom drags me from store to store. Through it all, the unease remains, making it hard to focus.
Mom is likely annoyed with my lack of attention, as she walks away in a huff before telling me we’re leaving. I sigh in relief as we head to the car, eager to get home and into bed.
However, she doesn’t stop talking the entire ride home. As soon as we arrive, Mom’s voice becomes a distant hum as we walk inside, the weight of the shopping bags bearing down on my arms. All I want is to crawl into bed and let the strange sensations wash over me until they pass.
“Dinner will be ready in an hour, Olivia.” Mom announces as we step inside the house.
I feel a surge of nausea and realize that this strange feeling isn’t going away. The headache intensifies and is pounding behind my eyes.
“I don’t think I can eat, Mom,” I mumble as my voice trembles.
She waves off my concerns, her attention fixated on the grandeur of tomorrow’s graduation ceremony. “Oh, you’re just nervous, dear. You’ll see, once you’ve given that speech, you’ll feel so accomplished.”
I don’t argue. Instead, I make my way to my room with heavy steps and an aching body. The sounds of her voice grow fainter as I close the door, leaving me alone with my discomfort.
As I sink into the softness of my bed, I realize that tomorrow’s big day might not be what’s causing this strange illness. The unease, the headache, the queasiness - it all feels too intense to be simple nerves. I’m pretty sure Mom’s presence there is what’s gotten me so out of sorts.
I’ve never been the type of daughter she wants. There’s always something wrong with my clothes or my hair. She always finds something to critique about me, and it’s disheartening.
Even with the stylist and makeup artist coming tomorrow, I still don’t think I’ll look good enough for her. But for now, I’m too exhausted to dwell on it.
I close my eyes and hope that sleep will wash away these unsettling sensations, leaving me ready to face the daunting graduation ahead.
Today is the day I’ve been waiting for. It’s my college graduation. With my chemical engineering degree, I should feel excited and proud.
But the overwhelming sense of unease gnaws at me, making it hard to focus on the excitement that should bubble inside.
The morning arrives with all the fanfare of my impending graduation. In her relentless pursuit of perfection, Mom bursts into my room, rousing me from a restless night’s sleep.
“Olivia, darling, it’s time to get ready,” she chirps, and I groan inwardly.
The world feels like a distant, hazy dream as I sit up, trying to shake off the lingering discomfort that had plagued me last night.
Mom insists I go through the motions of hair and makeup, something that seems utterly irrelevant given the strange sensations still coursing through my body.
A skilled stylist works magic on my hair, and a makeup artist does her best to transform my face. Despite my reservations, I can’t help but admit that, when finished, I look stunning.
Mom beams with pride, but her boisterous enthusiasm is unable to penetrate my clouded state. She goes on about the designer dress, the elegant shoes, and the makeup that enhances my features. She’s happy that she has accomplished her goal of having a beautiful daughter.
But I couldn’t care less about designer labels, makeup, or fancy shoes. They’re just not me. I long for simplicity and comfort, not this glamorous facade.
However, Mom’s happiness means everything to me right now, so I play my part to keep her content.
Fully dressed, I look in the mirror and admire the person staring back at me. The dress is an elaborate creation, shimmering with intricate beading and lace.
It hugs my figure in all the right places, and I can’t deny it’s exquisite. The high-heeled and elegant shoes are more than I’d ever choose for myself.
My hair is an intricate work of art, styled into cascading waves that frame my face. The makeup accentuates my features, making me appear more confident than I feel.
The reflection in the mirror is of a young woman who seems ready to conquer the world. But beneath the surface, I’m a bundle of unease and uncertainty.
As we make our way to the graduation ceremony, I can’t shake the sense that something is wrong. The nausea returns tenfold, and my head pounds relentlessly.
Mom’s chattering about how proud she is of me and how everyone will watch me is a constant backdrop to my discomfort.
I try to convince myself that it’s just anxiety, that once the ceremony is over, I can retreat into solitude and figure out what’s really happening to me.
For now, I paste a smile on my face and focus on the road ahead, determined to make it through the ceremony for Mom’s sake.
As we arrive at the graduation venue, I spot my dear friend Evelyn, who squeals with excitement as we approach each other.
“Olivia, can you believe it? We’re finally graduating!” she screams, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. “And you look absolutely stunning!”
I manage a small smile in response to her effusive compliments. Not feeling well is affecting the enthusiasm I should have for such an occasion. Since we met freshman year, Evelyn has always been the more outgoing and energetic of us, the yin to my yang.
We engage in a brief conversation, small talk about our plans for the future, and the excitement of finally closing this chapter of our lives.
Suddenly, Evelyn gets a strange look on her face. She scrunches her brows and stares at me intensely, her focus unwavering. After about a minute, her eyes widen before stepping back, as if she just had an epiphany.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as I look around the crowd, thinking she saw something or someone.
She shakes her head before pasting a smile on her face. “Oh, it’s nothing. I got lost in thought for a second before I realized I was staring at your face.”
We both laugh just as the announcer requests everyone to find their seats. The time for the ceremony has arrived, and my classmates and I file in to take our seats.
The long-anticipated moment has come, and I try to push aside the relentless discomfort and concentrate on the task at hand.
Finally, the ceremony unfolds, and one by one, my classmates and I walk across the stage to receive our diplomas.
The crowd’s applause fills the air, mingling with a sense of accomplishment and relief. And then it’s my turn. Unsteady legs carry me to the microphone at the podium.
I take a deep breath and begin my graduation speech. The words flow smoothly from my lips as I recount the challenges we’ve faced, the lessons we’ve learned, and the bright future that awaits us.
But suddenly, my voice falters, and I fall into silence. My body trembles uncontrollably, and my eyelids flutter rapidly as if I’m trying to dislodge something caught in them. The world around me blurs, and I’m transported to a place that is not the graduation stage.
At that moment, I see something shocking, something that shakes me to my core. It’s as if I’ve been thrust into a different reality, one filled with images and visions that I can’t comprehend. I watch as the scene plays out in front of me.
