5 Idiots and Me

Chapter 1

Simon chuckled. Any other dad would probably ground their child for their entire lives if they said something like that. But Simon isn't like other dads. Not even close. More on the insane side of the scale, if you know what I mean. Simon suddenly turned serious again. "It's true. I'm going tomorrow and the babysitters are coming."

Simon continued, more softly this time after seeing the fresh tears gather in my eyes. "I'm only doing this for your safety baby. Please don't cry. I want to see you happy and healthy."

To be honest, I don't even know why I care so much about having babysitters. Maybe it's the fact that they just might be more mean fake people to make me feel more insecure and bad about myself. I was so absorbed in my own thoughts that I didn't notice Simon getting off the bed and walking over to me. Putting a hand on my shoulder, Simon looked at me solemnly. "I don't know what happened in the bathroom, or how long it's been going on, but it honestly scares the crap out of me. You know I'm here if you want to talk, but just please. Please don't do this again. You mean too much to me. I already lost your mother and I don't think I could handle losing you too. Okay?"

I nodded guiltily. I couldn't always think about myself. I had to think about Simon now too. He's my dad. I can't let him down like I did to mom by starting to cut. "Well sleep tight then. Good night." Simon stepped out into the hallway.

I gave him a small nod in agreement and gently closed my door. Wriggling out of my blood splattered clothes; I slipped on my pajamas and collapsed on my bed. I cuddled with my white furred bear, Mr. Cuddles. Don't Judge. All of us have something from our childhood that we keep, right? Like every other night, I rubbed the gold chain that hung on my neck. Lifting the pendent, I opened it and started at the two beautiful pictures inside. One was a picture of my whole family together, no cancer, no depression, nothing. Simon, my mother, and I. We were the definition of perfect family. All three of us were always happy. Nothing kept us apart. I still remember the day when Simon called from his studio to my school. The pain I felt when Simon told me that the cancer won. I remembered the countless days and nights of crying. The nights where I cried myself to sleep knowing my mother wouldn't be there in the morning to comfort me.

I didn't even realize I was crying until I let out a small sob. Wiping my tears, I looked at the other picture. The picture of a beautiful lady. My mother. Memories flashed in my mind as I repeated those two words. "My Mother, my mother, my mother...."

I clutched the heart shaped jewel and held it close to my body. These were the only pictures I had of us together as a happy family. Only picture of my mother smiling, and not laying on a white hospital bed looking pale and lifeless. Simon threw away all the other pictures, not wanting to be reminded of the pain when you looked into my mother's stunning crystal blue eyes. I knew he was as torn as I was, but he never showed his weakness to the world. Simon was hard on the outside, but if you peeled away the surface, you would find a big softie. As I thought about these things, I began to realize one thing. I had to be strong. Strong for Simon. Strong for my mother. Strong for myself. Feeling more confident than I have in the past few years, I slowly drifted to sleep, ready to take what the world brought me.

Boy was I wrong.

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Sunlight filtered into my room walking me up the next morning. Like every Saturday, I woke up thanking god I didn't have to face my fellow classmate's bullying. Then, just like that, all my happiness came crashing down on me. Today was the day. The day where Simon goes on his fancy smancy business trip. Oh, I almost forgot. He leaves me with a bunch of nutcases. What a life I have. Suddenly, my bedroom door opened and Simon stuck his head in. "Rise and shine Chelsea. I have to go in an hour, to catch my flight. If you could get ready, you could meet your caretakers."

I jumped out of bed and shooed Simon outside. Taking my undergarments and clothes, I jumped into the shower. I took a hot but quick shower, rinsing my hair in Lavender, and scrubbing my body in Warm Vanilla Sugar. After shaving all the places that needed to be shaved, I yanked on my clothes consisting of a shirt that said "Sorry I can't today. My sister's friend's mother's grandpa's brother's grandson's uncle's fish died. And yes it was tragic," and grey sweat pants. Yeah, I know. Not really the "OMG where did you get that shirt? It's like so this year," type of person. I usually just wear whatever I grab first. I let my blond hair down, letting it gently fall to my shoulders. Yes, I was rushing. I mean give me a break! My dad is leaving for a year and he's leaving me with psychopaths for all I know. I needed to spend some time with the only sane person in my life. I'm seriously doubting the sane part now.....

Taking a deep breath, I looked into my chocolate brown eyes I inherited from Simon, in the mirror. It sometimes hurt to look at myself in the mirror. I was a spitting image of my mother, except for my eyes. Dirty blond hair (leaning more towards blond), a nice body, and a dazzling smile. A smile that brought out my perfect set of white teeth, and dimples on both cheeks. Or more like when I used to smile. Honestly, I have never given a real, genuine smile in years. After the incident, nothing made me smile anymore. I was a lifeless human. I hid my emotions well from years for practice. I don't cry or scream for help when the bullies hit me. Surprisingly, I didn't look like a skeleton even if I didn't eat anything. Just the natural glow a human should have was missing. I actually had a nice skin color before. My skin was healthy and glowing before. Now, it looked dead.

"I can do this. If anything goes wrong, I can always call Simon." Like this, I kept saying reassuring words to myself, slowly calming all the nerves that gathered in my stomach. I wasn't a confident girl now these days like I was before my mother's incident. My bullies made me insecure, making me hide in my shell 24/7. I was always suffocated, always waiting for a chance to break free. Never did. Probably never will. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door. I sprinted down the stairs and arrived into the living room, where I heard various conversations and lots of laughter taking place. Fixing my t-shirt and smoothing down my hair, I cleared my throat. 6 heads turned towards me. Simon smiled at me and faced the guests. "Boys, meet my daughter, Chelsea Elizabeth Cowell."

This is my first story! Hoped you like the first chapter! THIS IS NOT A DEPRESSING STORY. I just needed to start the story off like that, you know, to reveal Chelsea's problem. Vote and comment! BTW, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED for this story. The story, plot, characters are all mine, execpt One Direction and Simon Cowell :( Think about the possibilities if they were! Sigh* Thanks anyway!

That's Chelsea to the right. She's beautiful! Love Bridgit Mendler! >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

-Meg