Arab Cinderella

This story is dedicated to my friend Sarah. LOL Arab Cinderella will be very similar to Sarah's life. The story would be a little bit like the actual Cinderella story but it would actually have more of a twist of living life as an Arab. Don't worry the story is not going to be all sad and depressing, it will actually be funny. I hope you like it ! ENJOY READING!(: don't forget to comment suggestions and also vote! tell your friends about it too! hahah

-xoxo Kay(:

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Chapter 1

I opened my eyes to meet my mother screaming in my ears, just the usual. I felt the blanket being yanked off of me and my eyes shot open in horror. It always scares me how she comes at the randomest times. This lady wakes me up at 6 in the morning just to do housework, even though it's summer break. Out of her five children, she decides to torture me.

"Get up and clean the bathrooms! yallah (come on) no time to waste!" She yelled as if she doesn't realize that I am right next to her. I groaned as I flipped over and covered my ears with my pillow. "Please mama I'm tired" I begged as I buried my face into my pillow.

"Samara I'm asking you nicely right now, you don't want me to resort into using my other technique to make you get the hell up!" She warned me. I automatically shot out of bed before she even completed that sentence. Her "other technique" is pretty much meaning beating the hell out of me until I get up. No not just physical beating, but also emotional. She has a way of always bringing me down.

"Fine." I said through gritted teeth. I can't stand how she treats me so terribly. Just because she's miserable doesn't mean she has to put it all on me. You see my dad left us three years ago when he went to Yemen to marry another woman. My mom didn't want him to marry someone else so she asked for a divorce. Their love was dying at that time anyways. I don't get why my dad even had bothered leaving to Yemen to get married. I mean come on we live in Dearborn so this is like the Middle East in America. I always laugh at that but without humor. It affected me too when he left because now my mom hates me. I actually liked my dad around because back then my mom was happy. She was always smiling and her eyes twinkled with happiness. Now it's so rare to ever see her smile. Her eyes are dull and I can swear there's like no color on her face. Three years and she still hasn't moved on. It bothers me because I want her to be stronger.

"Go down and clean the dishes" she told me.

"Ok" was all I said and I got off the bed and moved around her.

Even at 6 in the morning this house is always loud. Considering there is five children in the house not including me, it makes sense. My three younger sisters : Heba, Ahlam, and Zainab are all in elementary school. Then there are my two older brothers: Mohamed , 19 years old and Ali, 17 years old. I am the oldest out of the girls at age 15 almost 16. Probably the reason why my mom treats me like a slave. I don't know if I'm seeing things or imagining but my mom only smiles at my older brothers. Its like they're working together against me. I don't know I think I'm going crazy.

As I entered the kitchen what I saw scared me more than Paranormal Activity. My eyes bulged out of my socket when the whole kitchen came into view. There were so many dishes and they were all stacked taller than Mt. Everest. I literally went into rage mode.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!" I yelled particularly at no one.

"Um those are the dishes." My bratty 10 year old sister Heba answered. I turned to see her sitting in the dining room eating pancakes. I also spotted Zainab and Ahlam fighting on the couch over the remote. Mohamed is still probably sleeping because I don't see him at all. It amuses me how he can sleep when there is so much noise around him, Mohamed is such a deep sleeper that if there was an earthquake and a tornado he wouldn't even notice. Ali as usual is sitting on the other couch with his legs up on the table. He doesn't even realize what is going on around him because he is always on his phone. I can't have a phone because my mom doesn't trust me with a phone. She thinks I will talk with boys and shit. I take my eyes off of the chaotic scene in front of me and I threw daggers at Heba. I don't like arguing with her especially when I'm mad.

"No duh Sherlock Holmes. No one was talking to you!" I rolled my eyes at her. She annoyed me so much if I get a chance to ever punch her I wouldn't hesitate in doing so. Of course I can't do that because the little brat would tell my mom and I know for a fact then I would end up in the hospital. Life is pretty unfair here.

"Well then who were you talking to, the dishes?" The thing kept on talking.

I decided to ignore her and go to clean the dishes. This will at least take 10 years to clean. I screamed in frustration staring at the tall stack.

"SAMARA DON'T YELL IN HERE!" mama screamed from upstairs. What a hypocrite didn't she just yell too? The whole house is loud actually and she only focuses on my scream? What can I do though, this is my life. My hell hole of a life. I just have to be patient. I looked at the dishes again and a teardrop rolled down my cheek making me probably look like the "forever alone" troll face. I slightly smiled at that thought. Oh how I crack myself up.

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A/N: So what do you think of the story so far? Should I continue? lol Do you guys like it? Tell me what you think!(: