Emilia

Why?

I've been living here for years now, nothing ever changes in this small town. Everyone knows everyone, and yet you never really get a chance to KNOW who anyone really is.

My name's Emelia. I’m 16 now, since my birthday was just last night. We didn’t have a party or anything, just a simple cake along with some ice cream. Honestly I was glad for that; after all, I just try my best to stay alone, but people always want to shove themselves into my life. I don’t know why they do it; there is nothing exciting about my life. They are only wasting their time.

“Emelia, come down for dinner!” The same voice everyday, my father Ryan, calling me down for dinner.

I always answer with “one moment!” or “be down in a second!” today it was the latter. In the end, I never really want to go downstairs to see my fathers.

People always like to point out the fact that I have two fathers rather than a 'normal' family. Because of this, people like to say that I don’t know what having a family means, or I just don’t understand. None of that is true though; my fathers are two most caring parents out there; they care for each other and me. Honestly though, our family is probably more functional than over half of the world’s families.

Finally I get up from my bed that I was sitting on and head downstairs like everyday to eat the meal that they bothered to make. I always make sure not to take too long; otherwise one of them will come upstairs to get me to come down and eat.

Once I enter the kitchen I see the both of them with their heads bowed and praying, they quickly pop up to glance at me once they realized I am there. They both are Christians while I on the other hand don’t like religion in general. It's not that I’m an atheist I guess maybe I would believe if there was evidence otherwise I don’t. Science has an explanation for how we are created, and I’m lucky enough to have parents who don’t force me into their religion. Religion aside though, I just don’t want to see their forced smiles yet again.

I take my place at the table, and dinner goes on as usual, mostly silence with a bit of muffled chit chat here and there. We don’t talk about much, basically how I’m doing pretty well in school and how I could be valedictorian of I tried hard enough. Then they bring up that maybe I should be going out side more.

I’m done eating I sigh over the conversation before getting up to rinse off my plate. I’m not going to sit there and listen to their silly conversation it's pointless, and they should know that.

I head upstairs to my room, not another word uttered to my fathers. They may have looked at me as I walked off, but I don’t look back I head straight for my plain wooden door. I enter, nothing too surprising about that and quietly shut my door behind me.

I turn around and catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye. I tell myself not to look, it's not worth it after all I just need to get into bed. All I have to do is focus on my bed, and I won’t have to deal with looking at HER again.

I take a few steps before realizing it's pointless and turning to the mirror that I so dreadfully hate. In the mirror though is the one thing I hate the most, the one person I wish I could stop from ever seeing again.

Dark brown hair like the color of dying tree left to rot and fall over, she has the longest hair in the whole school. Her pale face is caked with makeup to the point it looks more like a mask than real flesh. Her eyes look too big for her pudgy face, and the makeup certainly doesn’t help. Honestly they only reason she is wearing so much makeup is because she is ugly without it, even with it, though, she is hideous. The clothes she wears fair no better as they are wrinkled and long pants with a thick long sleeve shirt. It's obvious that she is covering up how fat she is, even though you can still tell.

Her name of course is Emelia Long, and she is a disgusting human being who should have never existed.

I hug my sides, holding tightly onto my skin and my shirt as if it will save me from the truth. My skin beneath my shirt is hard and hollow as if it were merely bone beneath my shirt. I heave with the effort of trying to breathe, it's hard to breathe when you are so big like me, I suppose.

Finally, I hiss with disgust and look away from the person I am, averting my eyes from my wretched mirror. I close my eyes but its too late I’ve already seen the disgusting human being that I am, and tears have already escaped from my eyes and are streaming down my face.

As I stand there crying, I have a moment to think it's not the first time I’ve been given time to do so. Familiar thoughts and memories climb into my mind, and it's as if I’m reading my life off of a script. I’m the daughter to the only gay couple in this stupid town. My parents always insist on telling me that I’m healthy and skinny whenever I bring up the subject of being overweight. One time my parents actually decided to go ahead and tell me that I’m anorexic I didn’t stay to talk to them after that.

I quickly snap from my thoughts as I hear footsteps headed upstairs, most likely to my room. I open my eyes and silently slide into bed, making sure to face towards the wall rather than the door.

I rub the running makeup off my face just as the door opens from one of my fathers peeking in. I go still, smudged eyeliner and mascara on my face, but luckily he can’t see it, and I’m glad for that.

The door finally closes shut, and I’m pretty sure it’s Ryan since John really doesn’t like to bother me at all when it comes to sleep. I’m glad that I must have fooled Ryan now I can get to bed in at least somewhat of peace. I stare over at the wall though, my mind completely blank and yet my brain is on overdrive, screaming at me.

“You realize we need to start watching what she does more, right?” slowly my father John's voice creeps into my room as a whisper.

“Why can’t we just let her have her own space?” I barely catch Ryan's soft response or the sigh before he spoke. His words make a soft smile appear on my face and a tear rolls down my cheek.
I quickly tune them out though it's not the first time I’ve heard them whispering about me. The biggest concern in their conversations is that I’m anorexic or depressed or that I’m going through a rough patch. In the end they always say that I’ll be fine, and I’ll bounce back in no time. It never really matters what they say though there's nothing really to bounce back to though I’ve always been like this, and they know it.

I’m not the kid they ever wanted though, something must have been messed up when I was born because I’m or the person I’m suppose to be. Everyday people remind me of this fact, and of course I make sure to keep track of it. I have a tally in my flesh, each line reminding me that I’m a freak, imperfect, a mess up.

I turn around, slamming my face into my pillow without a care, suddenly becoming aware that I’m crying yet again. I clutch the pillow to my face and don’t bother to breath even though I still can since it’s a thin pillow. I don’t breath though; I don’t even bother too when my lungs start to burn. Once I begin to feel like I’m going to die, like I’m literally finally going to suffocate myself, I take a deep breathe. Instantly I scream, I scream and scream into my pillow until my throat is raw that I think I’ll cough up blood if I even spoke. I pass out after that, merely faint from the fact that my brain was deprived of so much air.

The thing is though, I wasn’t screaming because of who I am or even about me in general. I’m screaming because I know I’ve been a waste of space since I was born. I’m are my parents acted like they were happy when they first got me, but they never were.

I’m sorry that you never got the little girl that you wanted, Dads.
I’m sorry to everyone who simply smiled and put up with me rather than get rid of the problem.

But I’m really sorry about the mess that you’ll have to clean up tomorrow dads. In the end, I’m sure the two of you will be happy eventually, and everyone will forget all about the weird girl in the corner. Who would have ever thought that the disgustingly fat person would have gotten such loving parents? I guess life never really turn out the way we want it, does it?