I. A day in the life of...
I sent my hand to fumble around before finding my phone. I peered through my lashes and slide the stop button across the screen. There went nothing. I repeated several times before realizing I had been holding it upside down. I sighed in relief as the deafening tone finally halted.
I stretched my arms wide and curled my toes before swiveling to my right side and pull a pillow into my embrace. It was pouring outside and I wanted nothing more than diving back into sleep and spending the day in my bed. But no, that could only be possible if I wasn't me and my life wasn't the way it was. I rolled my eyes, mentally going through my daily weekday schedule.
Wake up at 6:30
A quick bath
Grab the first outfit you lay your hands on
Take an apple from the kitchen counter
Leave the house at 7
Avoid the popular kids
AVOID Bethany Carpenter
Leave the school as soon as possible after the last bell rings
Come home
Avoid HER
Sleep
What an exciting way to spend your day, huh?! Well that's me surviving. Why do I need to avoid literally everyone in my life? Because I hated people and attention, duh! It's not even like those hypocrites who go all timid and mysterious but deep down want to be the cover of a weekly newspaper. I truly, earnestly despised any pair of eyes that would linger on me for more than five seconds. I didn't even care about what people would say about me behind my back. It's their business until they decided to call me out on it. That's when things would take a wrong turn. Let me give you a quick family tour or whatever it's called, once.
My mother married my dad as a rebound. She had gotten out of a long term relationship with her high school sweetheart. They had dated for a decade before he cheated on her with her best friend. There's always "the best friend", huh? Anyway, she had gotten suicidal and ended up in a psych ward more than she could count with her two hands. So when dad proposed out of the blue, everyone close to her thought it was the best solution and encouraged her to accept him.
My father had to propose to the crazy girl next door because his rich family forced him to get married to one of their allies for the purpose of a business merge. He had no plans to settle down but since he was single and in desperate need of an ally to save his future, he really had no solid excuse to not accept the heir of one of the biggest companies in the business as his wife. Now here's the twist. My father, my mother and Josephine, AKA the wife to be, went to the same high school. Dad and Josie dated for two years while mom and her boyfriend Luke dated from freshman year to ten years after that.
Luke and mom were the power couple but when dad, your typical jock, and Josie, everyone's crush slash the perfect girl, started going out, every paparazzi's camera turned to hunt them down. The whole town talked about how they were meant to be together. It was always about them. Where they were shopping at the next weekend, where he took her for their latest date, which movie they watched yesterday and pictures as a form of reliability proof. That was when Josie lost it. It had gotten overwhelming with the creepy jealous texts and threats that never went anywhere.
It was more than she could take, though, so she politely told dad that she wanted to break it off. But dad being the hopeless romantic he had been, tried out some absurd daunting moves refusing to let her go which made her more aggressive and spiteful. She had enough of it and dumped him in front of his whole baseball team and students at the end of their final game which they lost. She even went further by purposely taking different men each week to his neighborhood out of everywhere else in the town. She kept rubbing it on his face till he also had enough of it and moved abroad for the rest of high school.
So it was either Josie or my mother in the end. And he chose mom because, why in the world Josie?
They never loved each other but there was a mutual understanding in the first couple of years before I was born. And when I was born three years into their marriage, suddenly everybody found their bloody enemy. Me, people; I'm talking about me. The moment my mother Mrs. Beatrice Swift first held me in her arms, she felt loath clouding her heart. I had countable brown strands of hair on my big head and my blue grey eyes looked just like her father-in-law who she hated more than watermelons. And my mother HATED watermelons. Her words, not mine. So when the nurse came to register my name, she named me Mara which means bitter in Hebrew. Talk about summoning good luck with names.
Now dad wasn't there when I was born and only came after a week. He went on a business trip to Poland two days before leaving his heavily pregnant wife at home by herself. And guess who the business partner who went along with him was? I shall not say names but her name starts with a bold J. Anyway, he didn't grow to like me either because my mother turned into a beast post delivery. She became reckless, cruel and snide was all that's spilled whenever she opened her mouth. She never turned back even after 16 years. Not that there was much to look up to in her past. And I was to be blamed for that.
I hesitantly dragged my feet out of the warm running water. I wrapped myself in my dry towel and faced the mirror. I wiped the fog off of my mirror with the back of my palm while holding my electric tooth brush with my other hand. The faded scar on my left shoulder blade caught my eye immediately as usual. It trailed diagonally from the edge down for two inches. I had gotten it when I was four. My mother was chatting with our gardener in the backyard and forgot I was by myself at the front gate. I was in my favorite sky blue puffy dress and my hair was cascading freely down my back. I was playing with my Barbie doll's shiny hair practicing braiding when my dad's car appeared at the end of the corner. I ran down the stairs and onto the road without second guessing. I remember hearing a loud beep before I barely dodged a bike that was speeding from the other side and fell down rolling to the bushes and onto a poisonous thorn that pierced my skin open. Had the ambulance been a couple of minutes late, let's just say those same thorns would have grown six feet over me.
I grabbed a pair of black jeans and lavender hoodie and got dressed. I zipped up the side zipper of my some old ankle high boots before drying my hair and pulling it into a high bun. I put on some lip balm as I stared at my reflection. I was your plain Jane; Long straight brown hair, dull blue grey eyes, and unadorned demeanor, nothing striking. And that was the only thing I loved about myself. They wouldn't pick on me unless they had personal issues like Bethany. I was not a nerd, not a wannabe, not the teacher's pet, and definitely not the queen bee, I was just a nobody: a nobody named Mara Swift.
I strode down the stairs feeling jovial because I was by myself. Mom had an early morning running club and wouldn't be back until nine unless the after sweat breakfast schedule was at our home. Then she'd be back at 7 which meant I had to wakeup thirty minutes early in order to avoid running into her.
I sat thinking for five minutes chewing on my apple after I ignited my car to life. We lived in a fancy neighborhood where some of the popular kids reside but no one had ever noticed me because I hardly stepped out of my room and I took the longest route to school earlier than any of them would get up which normal people wouldn't look at as an option. My dad halfheartedly offered to buy me an expensive car of the latest model seven months ago for my sixteenth birthday but I politely declined and took a 2000 model bronze ford mustang from our garage.
I tried to enjoy the twenty five minutes' drive to school listening to a random opera song on the radio and singing along. No one had told me that I've a beautiful voice but it's not like I had ever sang for anyone. I liked classical music and I liked to think that I've a decent voice. That's all. I hit the gas and sped down the road.
A/N: Okay sorry if the intros and narration were rushed. More of her past will be unveiled in the next chapters. Drink more water if your cookie intake is high. Stay safe and don't forget to vote.
Love ya.
I stretched my arms wide and curled my toes before swiveling to my right side and pull a pillow into my embrace. It was pouring outside and I wanted nothing more than diving back into sleep and spending the day in my bed. But no, that could only be possible if I wasn't me and my life wasn't the way it was. I rolled my eyes, mentally going through my daily weekday schedule.
Wake up at 6:30
A quick bath
Grab the first outfit you lay your hands on
Take an apple from the kitchen counter
Leave the house at 7
Avoid the popular kids
AVOID Bethany Carpenter
Leave the school as soon as possible after the last bell rings
Come home
Avoid HER
Sleep
What an exciting way to spend your day, huh?! Well that's me surviving. Why do I need to avoid literally everyone in my life? Because I hated people and attention, duh! It's not even like those hypocrites who go all timid and mysterious but deep down want to be the cover of a weekly newspaper. I truly, earnestly despised any pair of eyes that would linger on me for more than five seconds. I didn't even care about what people would say about me behind my back. It's their business until they decided to call me out on it. That's when things would take a wrong turn. Let me give you a quick family tour or whatever it's called, once.
My mother married my dad as a rebound. She had gotten out of a long term relationship with her high school sweetheart. They had dated for a decade before he cheated on her with her best friend. There's always "the best friend", huh? Anyway, she had gotten suicidal and ended up in a psych ward more than she could count with her two hands. So when dad proposed out of the blue, everyone close to her thought it was the best solution and encouraged her to accept him.
My father had to propose to the crazy girl next door because his rich family forced him to get married to one of their allies for the purpose of a business merge. He had no plans to settle down but since he was single and in desperate need of an ally to save his future, he really had no solid excuse to not accept the heir of one of the biggest companies in the business as his wife. Now here's the twist. My father, my mother and Josephine, AKA the wife to be, went to the same high school. Dad and Josie dated for two years while mom and her boyfriend Luke dated from freshman year to ten years after that.
Luke and mom were the power couple but when dad, your typical jock, and Josie, everyone's crush slash the perfect girl, started going out, every paparazzi's camera turned to hunt them down. The whole town talked about how they were meant to be together. It was always about them. Where they were shopping at the next weekend, where he took her for their latest date, which movie they watched yesterday and pictures as a form of reliability proof. That was when Josie lost it. It had gotten overwhelming with the creepy jealous texts and threats that never went anywhere.
It was more than she could take, though, so she politely told dad that she wanted to break it off. But dad being the hopeless romantic he had been, tried out some absurd daunting moves refusing to let her go which made her more aggressive and spiteful. She had enough of it and dumped him in front of his whole baseball team and students at the end of their final game which they lost. She even went further by purposely taking different men each week to his neighborhood out of everywhere else in the town. She kept rubbing it on his face till he also had enough of it and moved abroad for the rest of high school.
So it was either Josie or my mother in the end. And he chose mom because, why in the world Josie?
They never loved each other but there was a mutual understanding in the first couple of years before I was born. And when I was born three years into their marriage, suddenly everybody found their bloody enemy. Me, people; I'm talking about me. The moment my mother Mrs. Beatrice Swift first held me in her arms, she felt loath clouding her heart. I had countable brown strands of hair on my big head and my blue grey eyes looked just like her father-in-law who she hated more than watermelons. And my mother HATED watermelons. Her words, not mine. So when the nurse came to register my name, she named me Mara which means bitter in Hebrew. Talk about summoning good luck with names.
Now dad wasn't there when I was born and only came after a week. He went on a business trip to Poland two days before leaving his heavily pregnant wife at home by herself. And guess who the business partner who went along with him was? I shall not say names but her name starts with a bold J. Anyway, he didn't grow to like me either because my mother turned into a beast post delivery. She became reckless, cruel and snide was all that's spilled whenever she opened her mouth. She never turned back even after 16 years. Not that there was much to look up to in her past. And I was to be blamed for that.
I hesitantly dragged my feet out of the warm running water. I wrapped myself in my dry towel and faced the mirror. I wiped the fog off of my mirror with the back of my palm while holding my electric tooth brush with my other hand. The faded scar on my left shoulder blade caught my eye immediately as usual. It trailed diagonally from the edge down for two inches. I had gotten it when I was four. My mother was chatting with our gardener in the backyard and forgot I was by myself at the front gate. I was in my favorite sky blue puffy dress and my hair was cascading freely down my back. I was playing with my Barbie doll's shiny hair practicing braiding when my dad's car appeared at the end of the corner. I ran down the stairs and onto the road without second guessing. I remember hearing a loud beep before I barely dodged a bike that was speeding from the other side and fell down rolling to the bushes and onto a poisonous thorn that pierced my skin open. Had the ambulance been a couple of minutes late, let's just say those same thorns would have grown six feet over me.
I grabbed a pair of black jeans and lavender hoodie and got dressed. I zipped up the side zipper of my some old ankle high boots before drying my hair and pulling it into a high bun. I put on some lip balm as I stared at my reflection. I was your plain Jane; Long straight brown hair, dull blue grey eyes, and unadorned demeanor, nothing striking. And that was the only thing I loved about myself. They wouldn't pick on me unless they had personal issues like Bethany. I was not a nerd, not a wannabe, not the teacher's pet, and definitely not the queen bee, I was just a nobody: a nobody named Mara Swift.
I strode down the stairs feeling jovial because I was by myself. Mom had an early morning running club and wouldn't be back until nine unless the after sweat breakfast schedule was at our home. Then she'd be back at 7 which meant I had to wakeup thirty minutes early in order to avoid running into her.
I sat thinking for five minutes chewing on my apple after I ignited my car to life. We lived in a fancy neighborhood where some of the popular kids reside but no one had ever noticed me because I hardly stepped out of my room and I took the longest route to school earlier than any of them would get up which normal people wouldn't look at as an option. My dad halfheartedly offered to buy me an expensive car of the latest model seven months ago for my sixteenth birthday but I politely declined and took a 2000 model bronze ford mustang from our garage.
I tried to enjoy the twenty five minutes' drive to school listening to a random opera song on the radio and singing along. No one had told me that I've a beautiful voice but it's not like I had ever sang for anyone. I liked classical music and I liked to think that I've a decent voice. That's all. I hit the gas and sped down the road.
A/N: Okay sorry if the intros and narration were rushed. More of her past will be unveiled in the next chapters. Drink more water if your cookie intake is high. Stay safe and don't forget to vote.
Love ya.
