I BELIEVED IN TWO THINGS.
ONE. LIFE IS A BITCH.
TWO. LIFE WAS FUCKING UNFAIR.
With those two thoughts clouding my mind, I managed to eat a few bites of my mackerel sandwich, and then stopped. I didn't have an appetite anymore. The earlier scene with Alex Blake caused me to shudder and even though I absolutely hate to admit this, I feel bad for him. What kind of a person feels bad for his/her bully?Good naïve person with a very big heart.
Chloe Stylinson gave a glance as she walked by me, followed by her boyfriend of three days. There were rumours going on last year that Chloe's father and her boyfriend's father were dating or at least her father was definitely not a straight person---he was seen by the town's gossipers on many dates accompanied by male friend, but since Chloe's mother got back together with him the rumours quickly vanished.
NOTE: YOU HAVE YOUR LEAST FAVOURITE SUBJECT NEXT. TRY TO CHEER UP.
Chemistry was my favourite subject, I remember studying the periodic table when I was just eight because I was obsessed with atoms and elements related to Chemistry. And then English Literature, I was officially a bookworm when I first discovered Harry Potter series and re-read it for as many times as possible. Math? I sucked at it.
Another joke written on the board by lame students caused a long with to escape. It was like a unsaid rule to intentionally miss the addition of two easy and simple numbers to make a joke. It wasn't funny. I hope they come to realise that they're lame and boring seniors.
It's going to be a long day, I mentally thought as I stared at my surroundings. I was too deep in thoughts that I haven't realized the other half of the seats were already seated and the teacher was just about to step in.
"Good afternoon, students. Today we'll start with a new lesson."
"Ya, hey ya." I felt someone poke my back, I turned around to see Jack Edward, the tattooed boy, holding a piece of paper out for me."This is for you."
Mirrors can't talk, luckily for you they can't laugh either
I knew exactly who wrote this.
I wrote back:
Why don't you slip into something more comfortable, like a coma?
And told Jack - the tattooed boy to give it back to the owner.
If sadness was expressed with tears, I'd cry a river.
I received a couple of insults in between the periods, but I have gotten used to this; this feeling, this sadness.
But of course the jerk of the jerks- aka Chloe's boyfriend- didn't fail to make my heart break all over again.
Our conversation went like this;
"Hey you! How's your mummy?" He had smirked, his evil eyes burning into mine.
I hope you trip over a banana peel and break your front tooth. I hope you get constipated for weeks. Why can't anyone understand that I'm still not over her death, why can't anyone understand that whenever they mention her death, my heart breaks all over again?
"Is stupid being a profession or are you just gifted?" I raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging on my lips," 'cause my mum's dead you fool."
"You and your comebacks, do you get them from Google or something?"
"Honestly no need for insults your face says it all. Maybe I'm just gifted." With that I left him standing there with a opened mouth.
Angel's plan for the day:
-Prepare food for the old man
- Taking a bath because I'm sure garbage currently smells better than me after a long hot sunny day
-Get medicines for him.
-Read a book, solve homeworks, binge-watch Games of Thrones.
After I got back home, I changed into sweatpants and a loose shirt because that's my type.
I sometimes think I'm not normal, not like I was born an alien or another type of species, but I sometimes feel like I don't belong in this town or state or even this world.
Maybe that's why I don't have friends.
People think being alone makes you lonely, but I don't think that's true. Being surrounded by wrong people is the loneliest thing in world- maybe I'm blessed.
Back to school I've heard two girls chatting about Alex and I in disgust like I had murdered her parents and buried them in the zoo and she was trying to ruin my reputation in return. The other girl replied to her insults in the same tone, "me too. Her ugliness kills me, she looks like a fat gorilla.
When they saw me, they nervously looked at each other.
I just smiled at them.
Kill 'em with kindness.
And here I was in my bedroom -after I took a bath and ordered the usual because I jus got my period and it feels like someone's stabbing me repeatedly and pulling my uterus roughly before running over them with a car.
I put on Game of Thrones after applying the heating pad on my abdomen and cuddling with Mr. Teddy.
My phone basically contains instagram , twitter, and tumblr only. And math homework helper if that counts. And I blame my phone's storage for this. Whenever I want to download a new application, my phone suddenly remembers I have no storage left and when I do delete whatever application has the most space in my phone, my phone doesn't have enough space to download both.
A loud knock and the sound of the doorbell ring interrupted my chain of thoughts and mental self-talk that I was giving myself. Sometimes when I'm all alone, I imagine myself as a different person. I imagine a better life and living somewhere in NYC or Chicago fulfilling my dream as a full-time writer, but then reality would force me to face the harshness and cruelness of the world, reminding me that I was just seventeen and I had little money saved up that would last a few days only. The journey of becoming a successful writer was going to be challenging and arduous.
I sighed. Even when I do turn eighteen, I would barely be able to afford a college degree without the help of my step-father and a scholarship isn't an option since I barely pass my classes despite my constant studying. He clearly stated that he wanted me to major in accounting to help him manage his money. My only solution was student loans, but the idea of not being able to pay them back makes me terrified, especially since writing isn't a stable job that you could relay on. One day you're in, the other day you're out.
If you ever get it.
I opened the door slightly, breathing in deeply and letting out a long sigh.
I'm not ready to die yet. Please don't kill me.
The more surprising thing was, his hand was intertwined with a woman I never encountered before. If he wasn't holding her tightly, I would've thought she was a friend or someone he knew from his workplace. He was way out of her leagues.
It reminded me of quote I saw on a TV show: A lot of girls think they have to choose between being the smart geeky type or the beautiful bimbo.
I'm for sure the first one. Hence the sarcasm.
"Hey, honey." He smiled, removing his hand from their intervened grip and pulling me into a hug. Before my mother's death, David and I would always hug after I came back from school and he would leave a kiss on my forehead before leaving to work. After her death, we never had any intimate physical encounter---not even an accidental one (aside from his fist that would greet my face and stomach on most days when he's angry or furious).
If wtf had an expression, it would've been my current face. My eyes were wide and my mouth gaping. This isn't real. I must have accidentally slept while watching Games of Thrones.
"I missed you." He added, roughly rubbing my back. His caring tone was forced and I hoped the woman standing beside him realised that this was simply an act, a fake façade.
"Who are you?" I blinked, staring at him with wide eyes. Closing my eyes for a few seconds, I tried to regain control of my breath. I felt disgusted by his touch and if his skin made physical touch with mine one more time, I would kick him where the sun doesn't shine. I felt my stomach churning and I had the urge to throw up.
Real David: glare at him, insult me, beat the shit out of me.
David full of shit: greet me, call me by strange endearment and hug me.
There's something fishy, I can smell it.
"Oh my baby likes to joke."
I wanted to scream, I wanted to hit him again and again, but instead I said,"Did you get a surgery for your personality?"
I could've acted along. It was obvious he was trying to impress her with his odd behaviour, but I didn't want her to face what I was going through daily. David isn't a regular man--- he's abusive, full of hate and incapable of loving anyone but himself. She should understand the signs I was trying to show and run for her life. Or she would end up like me. Broken and Pathetic. She would drown in self-hate and uselessness of not being able to do anything.
Oh the police, you say? They basically worship David. He could easily get bribe them. If I were to report David, I would end up the bad person and they would sue me for stating lies and ruining someone as important as David's reputation.
"I told you she's funny, Melissa." The chick Melissa smiled at me and I let out a snort. She was dumb enough to stay even though my warning signs were clear.
"Who's this chick, daddy?" I smirked, digging my nails into my palm to prevent myself from doing anything I would regret later on.
"Behave, sweetheart." He hissed, giving me a look I knew too well. Shut the fuck up or you will end up regretting it.
A flash of his palm punching me in my stomach and my screams echoed through my mind for split of seconds and I could feel a panic attack forming. Please save me, mum. I'm scared without you.
"I can't explain how much I love hearing this word, especially from you. "
He ignored my comment and said," This is my girlfriend, Melissa, soon-to be-fiancée."