The sun was shining, the birds were singing when she woke up that morning. Her name is Karen Springton. She’s 16 years old and hates. Most of the teens would be happy but not her. Her 16th birthday was a disaster. Today is a dark day, even though the sun is shining brightly, for some, it’s raining. It’s Karen’s dad’s funerals. He died two weeks ago; on the day Karen turned 16. Her mother is an ambassador and lives in the U.S. so she can’t come right now. After separating with Karen’s father, she never came back and left her daughter and her ex-husband in poverty.
I’m in my room getting dressed. Today I chose to wear a pair of black pants with a black shirt. I walk to the washroom and take a look at myself in the mirror. My brown eyes are red from the lack of sleep and from crying all night; my brown hair falls ungracefully on my shoulders, the bottom curled slightly. As I looked at myself, the image of my dad flashes in my mind.
Before I know it, I have tears rolling down my cheeks. I look down at the sink and see them falling. That’s when someone knocks on my door. I wipe the tears away and get of the washroom.
“Yes, what is it?’ I asked.
“It’s time to go.” Answered a male voice from the other side of the door.
“Ok, I’ll be down in a minute.” I quickly replied.
I put my shoes on and walk out of my room without a single look back at the empty space. It would be too painful. That room is the only place I show my emotions. I don’t usually show it to everyone.
I follow the man outside but stop once I see the car my mother asked to pick me up with. She paid for it and I hate her. Mother is the worst of all. I had told her I didn’t want a limousine to bring me to my father’s funerals. My dad was never really rich but that’s how I liked it. My mother, however, is very rich. I don’t want to move in one of those big castles with her in California but that choice is not mine to make apparently.
I look at the black limo with flames of anger in my gaze. I get in without uttering a single word. Any normal person would be thrilled about this limousine but I am not. I barely glance at it. The limousine has tainted windows and the inside looks luxurious and expensive.
With my dad dead, I have to move in with my mother, something about her being my legal guardian or something like that. I’d never see him again.
As tears roll down my cheeks, I close my eyes and find myself falling asleep. When I open my eyes, we’re about to arrive. The car stops so suddenly I almost have a heart attack. I look at the door and wait for the driver to open it. I’m tired and angry, when the door opens I nearly jump out of the car, eager to get out of that vehicle.
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