Officially Blake's

CHAPTER 1

"Ok, now leave my room." I uttered through my gritted teeth. I exhaled. 

"Nicolle, watch your manners," dad warned. 

"Ok," I countered. "Mom. dad. leave my room. Now."

I saw mom blink a few times as she tried to stroke dad's back to calm him down and stop him from kicking me right in the stomach. I turned my back on them and dropped my whole body on my bed. I heard the door shut as I closed my eyes. 

I reached for my pillow and reached for my phone. I called Vincent. 

"Yo," he greeted the moment he picked up.

"Hey," I greeted back lazily. "You win," I murmured, aware of the fact that he might not understand me because I was speaking with my mouth taped on the bed. 

"What?" he asked. 

"You win. I'm leaving." I could almost see him jumping in delight. See, Vincent loves and will always love wager. And he always wins. And now, he wins again.

"See? Told you so. There's no stopping them." I heard him chuckled at the other line. If I could just punch him straight through, I would. I rolled my eyes at my brother's very mean attitude. 

As if, sensing that I'm in the deepest pits down in the dumps, he pointed, "Know what, Jot. You're gonna love it there. Yeah, New York's the best but..."

"Thanks, Cent but I don't think I would be needing your words of adive." I butted in, sticking emphasis on the last three words. 

I hung up.

And I became, hopeless. And hopless. And hopeless. And hopeless.

***

I was there. Standing. Waiting for other words to be spoken by my dad. I can't do anything about it since… yeah, since my dad is the ace of the house. He’s the boss, you know. We should always, always go his way. Otherwise, you’ll lose your allowance which is about worse than this situation.

 "Nicolle, just go," my mother said softly. She wiped my tears with his thumb then kissed me on the forehead. She used to be on my side but then dad convinced her that I should do this. It's a family tradition, he said. They also sent Vincent away 2 years ago. The only difference is, Vincent agreed and I didn't. 

 I sighed at my father’s final decision. I’m leaving for Philippines.

Alone.

Two guards were assigned to watch for me during the whole flight. Actually, they were assigned to guard me and make sure I do not run away. I was all packed. It was my mom who did all the packing. 

The trip was silent. No words from me, except of course when talking to the flight attendants. I kept my earphones right in my ears as I did not want to face or hear the cruel, annoying, really irritating world. 

I am grumpy.

After about 20 hours, tops, of traveling in air, here I am in the Philippines. And yet agian, alone, because the job of the two guards are done. I scratched the back of my head as I paced down the tiled floor of the airport. 

And could I just add? It's boiling in here. 

So damn.

JUNE 13

I hate my life. 

I hate my life.

I hate my—

OH!

It is hell in here. 

Literally. 

Can anywhere be hotter than here?