“MUM!” I shouted upstairs, of course Mum wasn’t listening. This was normal. I bet she was in the shower singing in her nasty screeching voice. I swear once she broke glasses. That might’ve just been in one of her many tantrums though.
I don’t fully understand my mother. She’s pretty, of course she is– she’s a model – but why did she end up with my twat of a Dad? He’s just a middle aged, half bald pig in a business suit. I really do not like my Dad. He’s just with my Mum because she’s a young blonde with fake boobs. As soon as she reaches 30 she’ll be divorced, have no money and no love.
Although, I am pretty sure that she’s having an affair already. I mean, who in their right mind would want to have sex with my Dad?
It was early. I had no idea why I was up so early, really. I’m always late for school. Why, today – specifically on a Friday – do I have to be early for school?
Before I left I looked into the mirror. I hate mirrors; they remind me of how fat and ugly I am.
I don’t want to see that.
Everyone keeps telling me – well at the hospital anyway – that it’ll be alright! Everything will be peaches and cream and I’ll recover soon.
Yeah, right. I’ll believe that when I see it.
The mirror always screams bad things at me. It tells me that I’m not worth anything. It tells me that I should try to be someone else. A prettier, thinner, better me. I try and ignore it but sometimes it’s hard to ignore yourself. Especially seeing as you are yourself.
I slipped on my heels, skirt and school shirt and left. My hair was still the same blonde-brown curly mess it was this morning. Despite my efforts to straighten my fringe, it stayed frizzy and poofed up in odd directions.
I saw Maegan, Taegan and Brittany sitting on the desks in first period English, kicking their legs and laughing.
“Hey! Maddy! Come over!” They giggled,
“What’s so funny?” I walked over, pushing a small brown haired girl out of my way in the process.
“You’d never guess what Aimee did the other day!” Taegan started. That’s how every day started. A bit of gossip here, a bitch about someone’s clothes there, and that was it. That was the extent of our brilliant, mind boggling conversations.
No wonder I got called stupid by everyone.
Maegan and Taegan are bitches, really. I mean yes, they’re my only friends, but they’re only my friends because I wouldn’t have any really, if I broke friends with them. Brittany is less of a bitch because she just copies people and follows them around. But she’s so annoying, like a fly you just can’t seem to squash.
At lunch, we always sit at the same table. It’s the one right smack in the centre of the dining hall. Brittany says it’s so we can ‘get noticed’. Why would we want anyone to notice us? So people know that you hate that girl’s new skirt over there? That you want to kiss that boy over there? I seriously believe that no one in this shitty little school cares about your sad lives, really. It’s not like we’re famous or anything.
“Look at Kerry-Jo!” Maegan bitched, “Her hair is so, like, horrible!”
“She must have been on acid when she picked that hair cut.” I went along. I didn’t want to have no friends at school. That’s just sad.
“Hah! Right!” Taegan sniggered. She flicked her annoying blonde fringe out of her face. Taegan and Maegan. Twins. Annoying, bitchy, stupid twins who think they’re ‘it’.
“Yeah, on acid!” Brittany repeated. She’s a bit sad, but I feel sorry for her sometimes. She has no other friends. She’s kind of in the same position as me. All though, she makes up for it – well to the boys anyway – by being a top notch slag. She’s only fourteen and I already know she gave someone a blow job behind the bike rails at school. It’s a shame for the boy that Mrs. Borne – biology – saw them. That must’ve been awkward. And I mean really awkward.
I picked up my lunch apple and threw it from hand to hand, deciding whether to eat it or not. My Mum had put me on another diet. She said I had to lose weight for one of her many cocktail parties so I wasn’t known as the ‘obese daughter’.
I ate the apple and told the ‘girls’ that I had to make a quick stop in the bathrooms. They said they’d come along but I said I just needed to reapply some lip gloss.
Yes, lip gloss…
I went into the bathroom and checked no one was in the toilet, peering under the doors to check no one was in there. I opened my favourite toilet – the one on the end, and stuck my fingers down my throat.
A mint, that’s what’s good.
A mint is always the best thing afterwards.
I know I’m supposed to be ‘healing’ and recovering from all this, but seriously? With my mother? I think not. She’s about as much help as Anne Frank’s drum-kit.
The boring day ended, and after coming back from the cinema with Brittany, I got home, and collapsed into my bed.
My alarm went off.
11:00am exactly. I pulled off my cover, and placed it back down. My room was red. One wall was anyway, I like the colour red. It shows my pain in a way.
I quickly cleaned my room, placing all my dirty clothes carefully into the wash basket right outside my en suite bathroom, and rearranging all my bottles into size order when I heard Blaze, my little brother, crying in the next room. Poor Blaze. He is going to get picked on because of his name when he starts school.
Mum was groaning, I realised she must still have a hangover from her party last night and wouldn’t be much use to Blaze right now. I waded my way through the beer bottles and broken vodka bottles towards his bedroom, and carried him around for a bit
The postman dropped off a few letters through the post box. I practically threw Blaze down into his crib and rushed down the wooden staircase to check it. I was expecting a very important dress that I’d bought on the Internet today.
Oh, how lucky I am. It wasn’t there. There was just a badly written letter. I bet it was just some seedy man in an office with greased back hair telling me there wasn’t any stock left of that particular dress and that I couldn’t get a refund. Sorry.
I opened the letter carefully but accidently cut my finger on the paper.
It was a simple letter, with only about 5 lines of writing on it.
I didn’t have any credit on my phone, so I wrote you a letter. Mum paid for the stamp, anyway.
I want to say sorry, but in person.
Meet me at 13 Bankside, at 1:13pm. Sorry about the awkward time, but it’s the only time I’m not busy.
P.S. By the way, this is Saturday the 13th, you know. Just in case you get it before or something.
But I wasn’t just going to give up my chances with Dylan, again.
I love him!
No you don’t, silly bitch. He’s a tosser.
Why 1:13pm? Surely if you can make 1:13pm, you can make 1:15pm? Ugh. Sometimes I wonder why I like Dylan.
But I don’t.
But… I do.
I decided to dress casually, like I hadn’t put much effort in but like I wanted to see him.
Skinny jeans, flats and a nice red top, I thought to myself.
“Mum!” I shouted, “I’m going out! See you later!”
“Yeah…” Mum snored. Even at lunchtime she still hadn’t gotten over her hangover. “Bye, John.” She Mumbled
“John…” I frowned slightly, before shutting the door behind me and starting to walk towards the street where I’d meet Dylan.
I mean, I strongly suspected my mother was having an affair, but I needed to find out who this John person was and tell him to stay away. I wanted my parents together as long as possible so my Mum didn’t end up as a prostitute-junkie on the streets like Maegan and Taegan’s aunt did.
It was almost 1:15pm when I arrived, I hoped that Dylan hadn’t left because I was a few minutes late. He was picky like that.
To my surprise it was a dark alley with leaves everywhere, and mist hanging low in the October sky. Huh.
I saw only one person there, I didn’t recognize who it was, but I assumed they must’ve been mentally retarded to have dressed in a ball gown to go down an alley.
Maybe there was a brothel down here somewhere that hired idiots dressed as Princesses to ‘satisfy’ the perverted men.
She turned around, and was shocked by the sight of me.
I didn’t look that ugly did I?
Dylan was nowhere to be seen and I was starting to get a bit apprehensive.
I started walking closer to the Princess prostitute, and recognised her face slightly.
I knew her.
I was almost 100% sure she went to my school.
Well this is going to be fun to tell everyone at school on Monday!
I walked slightly closer, edging towards the Princess, and saw the horrified expression on – what’s her name? It was that posh girl! - Isabel’s face.
“What!?” I screamed,
“Uh…hi?” she started biting her thumb nail.
There was an awkward silence.
“Did you set me up?” We said simultaneously,
“No…” I looked around, “A dark alleyway? This is like something from CSI. Do you suppose someone is going to jump out from behind a bin and rape us? You’ve got the right getup for some crime scene shit. The princess who was raped. That’ll be front page news.” To my surprise, she started to cry. Silently, like she didn’t want me to know. I felt immediately sorry for her. “Hm. So why are you here?” I decided to try and be civil. Because I’m nice.
“Well, Mummy dressed me up as this because she said I looked pretty. It was for Kerry-Jo’s party! I’m Bell from Beauty and the Beast.”
“Yes, Bellsipoops, you look wonderful darling.” I chuckled, but she looked taken slightly aback.
“Don’t call me that.” She whispered,
“Are you fighting back?” I raised my eyebrows, waiting for her response,
“No, I just…” she trailed off and I followed her stricken gaze towards a bright yellow skip in the corner. There was some paper stuck to it.
“What is…” she was already over there, reading what it said. Her face got gloomier by the second.
I ran over, and stared slowly realising why she had so much horror in her eyes.
Beloved, Isabel and Madeleine,
If you’ve come this far, you may be willing to go a bit further. Well, not that you have any choice in the matter.
“Insert evil laugh here.” I smiled, “I told you this was some creepy CSI shit.”
Follow my instructions to the word. If not, then bad things are going to happen, concerning the people you love the most. Every week you both will receive an identical letter. It will contain a name, an address, and your instructions. You must work together to carry out what I ask of you. I have good faith in you.
Your first assignment is on the other side of this paper. Read it carefully. You have no second chances.
Yours truly, B.
“What the fuck?” I exclaimed, snatching the letter and turning it over to read our ‘assignment’.
Mr. Rue Harris, 101 Chauncey Lane.
See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. If you understand that. I know a few nice deaf, blind and dumb people. You will too now, Isabel. You have until next Saturday to complete the task.
“This guy is seriously taking the piss.” I handed the letter to Isabel to read; she threw it in the air and was sick in the skip. “Ew.”
“Do we have to like kill him or something?” She quivered slightly, her hand was shaking.
“No. Look, this isn’t normal. Some guy is just trying to freak us out, obviously.”
“Well how did he know about Kerry-Jo? How did he know it was almost her birthday?” Isabel shivered slightly, her dress was covered in sick. How revolting. At least I knew how to be sickneatly.
“I don’t know. Look, ignore this guy! He’s just trying to make us scared.”
“I don’t like this.”
She started running.
“Don’t fucking leave me here, Bellsipoops!” She didn’t stop running. I just sighed and walked away.
Well this isn’t quite what I had in mind when I came here to give my ex a second chance… I thought to myself.