Welcome to my world.
It was always the same routine.
Wake up at 6 AM to walk the dog. Tyson was his name. The Rottweiler labrador that belong to my mother, not me. But I walked him religiously every morning. It was my duty declared by the queen herself or at least that's what everyone called her.
My mother. Larissa. The entrepreneurial single mother of three girls, working three jobs, and a force to be reckoned with.
Back to the routine.
Be back at around 6:30 to 6:45 and wake up sisters for a productive school day. While I shower and get dressed my sister Tatiana age 16, got our youngest sister, Bella age 6, prepared by packing her school bag.
At 7:15
Rules swapped, and fully dressed. I'd be preparing breakfast for Bella and myself and by the time I'm finished she'd be leaving the Queen's quarters fully dressed for school and rubbing her eyes as she would sit to eat and watch PBS Kids while I briskly fixed her hair style of the day and munched my breakfast. But not before I cleaned the kitchen.
It was of course Monday. My day to wash the dishes while Tatiana's days were every other day and we alternated between washing dishes and taking out the trash.
My days were Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Sunday.
Yes. I started the week washing dishes and end it the same. Two years older than Tatiana and the eldest in the house... Who was I to complain about doing my chores?
Every Mother's Day the radio station and my mother (every day) never ceases to remind me."For the nine months I carried you going inside me. No charge."
I internally rolled my eyes at the thought and shuddered at the memory.
A loud noise roared through the halls, shaking the house, toppling all the picture frames off the walls as they cracked upon arrival to the destination. The tiled floor.
It wasn't an earthquake, it wasn't even the annoying tenant downstairs claiming to be a musician. It was a natural disaster. It was a hell-bent whirlwind.
I opened my eyes and looked at my surroundings. Wet hands as suds disappeared down the drain. My feet clothed in light blue socks and black ballerinas, not covered in broken glass and debris. And the walls? Concrete, sturdy, intact, better than ever and ready to withstand even a category five hurricane.
There it was again. The wretched noise that made my ears bleed as it came from down the hall.
"Yes Mommy!?" I replied.
I know.
I may have exaggerated it. But internally this is how it felt. Everyday.
" it's 8 o'clock. Are you ready? Don't have people waiting on you. Hurry up and get outside.", the Queen bellowed.
With our bags so long on our shoulders and house cleaned prior to departure we headed outside and down the stairs. Just us three musketeers at the side of the road while we waited on my mother's friend Keira to collect us and drop us to hell.
Almost an eternity later and it's 3 PM. FINALLY!
That means that we must go by my grandmother until 5 and get dropped back at home.
" Don't forget to eat. Don't forget to do your homework, and clean because bedtime is at 9. And don't leave anything undone because you're the oldest and it doesn't matter. It should be done anyway." -echoes my mother's mantra in my head"
You are probably thinking. 18? Bedtime? 9 o'clock? What kind of slave ship..! ?
Welcome to my world.
Just kidding.
Yes, I am 18. Yes, I have a bedtime. Yes, it may seem absurd. And it is...
But, after being used to it... You know. The overprotectiveness, the controlling, the limitations...
You get used to it.
And in my case that is all I know.
For now.
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Hey guys thanks for taking time out to read my FIRST chapter of 'Good Girl GONE BAD' and I hope you enjoyed it and you add it to your library to enjoy more exciting chapters.
Don't forget to follow and look out for my next book coming soon - A short series of erotic stories!!!
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