-Twelve years later-
It's funny when you look back on your childhood, and think how amazing life was. But then you look at your life today, and think what the hell happened.
Life in New York was suppose to be the best move ever, but to me all it brought was heartache and pain.
Two years ago my parents died in a car accident, and I was left in the care of my loving sister Jemma. Except my sister who once adored me, hates my guts. She makes it her mission to make my life complete and utter hell, who knows why?
"Arabella hurry the fuck up you stupid fucking bitch, your going to make us late for our plane" my sister yells from the bottom of the stairs of our now empty home.
I hurriedly grab my bag off the floor of my empty room, and look around remembering the lonely night and days spent in the comfort of these four walls. I sigh, before making my way out of the room closing the door behind me.
"Don't make me come and get you, you fucking worthless piece of shit" Jemma continues to yell. I run down the stairs not wanting to make her angry, but just when I reach the bottom of the stairs.
I feel a hand connect with my face, making me go flying back into the wall.
"You stupid bitch, I told you to hurry the fuck up" Jemma growls.
"I'm sorry" I whisper, holding my injured check in my hand. I don't cry though, I'd never give my sister the satisfaction.
One look at Jemma and you would never think she could hurt a fly. She was still beautiful as ever with her long brown hair, crystal blue eyes, flawless tan skin, and tall slim body. She was the splitting image of my mom, well I took on my dads genes. Long dull red hair, pale skin, brown eyes, and short curvy body. My sisters beauty was a constant reminder of how beautiful I wasn't, and if that wasn't enough of a reminder. She made sure to tell me how much my looks repelled her.
"Lets go, you ugly troll" she says pushing me out the door. We climb into the back of the limo, and make our way to the airport.
You might be wondering why we are heading to the airport. Well Jemma came home last week with the most shocking news ever, she got married. I didn't even know she was even seeing anyone, but I was always wondering why she wasn't home much for the last couple of months. Those last couple of months were the best months of my life.
Anyway apparently the guy my sister married doesn't live in New York, he lives in Beverly Hills.
Thats right we're moving back to Beverly Hills, and I'm totally mesriable.
You think I'd be happy to move back to the Hills, considering I didn't even want to move to New York in the first place. Also because I'll be able to see the two boys that I loved and adored as a child. The two boys who were the reasons why I didn't want to move to New York. The two boys who even though we were young always made me feel loved and secured. The two boys I have not allowed myself to think about in a very long time, because of the sadness and pain I feel when I think about how good my life was when they were in it.
Phil and Troy Drew.
Except the boys I remember twelve years ago, are not the same boys I left behind.
The Drew boys of today are now plastered on every magazine, for being the hottest rich celebrity play boys of all time. They are viewed all over the media throwing huge parties, getting wasted off their faces, hooking up with models, and crashing expensive cars. Every girl wants them, and ever guy wants to be them.
The Arabella today is a nobody, no one even knows I even exist. If anyone had to choose to be me or a chimpanzee, they would gladly choose the chimp.
So right now, I'm resenting seeing Phil and Troy. Why would they want to be friends with a broken nobody like me, when they have the world bowing at there feet.
"When we get to Beverly Hills, don't say a word to my husband you hear me bitch" my sister sneers from across the limo. "Only talk when he talks to you, got it"
I nod, and then turn and look out the window. I hope my sisters husband is nothing like her.
Beverly Hills here we come.
"Baby" my sister squeals. Dropping her bags and running towards a guy who looks like he's in his late 50's, wrapping her skinny arms around his waist well he engulfed her in a hug. Wow my sister likes old men, who would of thought.
Although he looked old, he's quiet handsome for his age. He was tall, broad shoulders, beautifully sculptured face, jet black hair with specks of grey, and dressed in a very expensive black armani suit. You could clearly see just by looking at him that this man was of money and power, which intimidated me abit.