Gifted

My Mind's like a Deadly Disease.

Chapter Two-My Mind's like a Deadly Disease.

PRESENT

I open my heavy eyelids to the heavenly smell of blueberry pancakes that had crept under the gap of my off-white, peeling door and it's frame, and wafted my senses. As I am not a morning person whatsoever, I somewhat appreciate the method.

Could be worse.

Yawning, I throw off my blanket, reluctantly get up out of my safe haven of a bed, and...fall over.

Yay me.

Scowling at the culprit; my phone charger that had blended into the thick, creamy carpet, I awkwardly clamber back up again and drag myself to my bathroom to make myself somewhat presentable.

Looking in the mirror, I don't recognise the person staring back at me.
This stranger, who is she?
Her once plump and pink lips are dry, pale and chapped. Her hazel eyes that used to be bright had lost their spark, and were dull and lifeless, with deep, set-in purple bags underneath them.
Her chocolate brown hair is no longer silky or healthy, but dry.

She is the shell of who she used to be.

Snapping myself out of my trance, I splash some cold water on my face, with the intentions of looking decent.
Nope, still look like shit, I think as I glance into the mirror that never lies.
As my impatient, greedy stomach growls, I suddenly remember why I dragged my sorry butt out of bed in the first place.

Food.

The one thing I can't possibly live without.

Trudging out of my room, I walk down the thick carpeted stairs with my hand sliding down the varnished wooden rail. As my big and awkward feet come into contact with the icy oak floor, I shiver and feel the hairs on my arms and back of my neck raise.

Is it not supposed to be summer? Mother Nature needs to get her shit together.

I walk into an abandoned but harshly clean and bright white kitchen, filled with the latest technologically advanced appliances. On top of the pristine white marble bench is the source of the mouth-watering scent; a plate of stacked, fresh, hot and steaming pancakes with a mountain of blueberries and a dollop of Greek yogurt sitting perched on top.

Next to the yummy gift is a torn chunk of lined paper with scrawny blue ink; a note.
On it says ;
Hi sweetie, sorry I couldn't be here for your first day of school, there was an emergency, but I left you your favourite; blueberry pancakes.
Talk to you tonight, Chrissie :)

I scoff; who does she think she is calling me sweetie? I begin to rant about how annoying and unfair it is for her to leave me alone.

I mentally sigh at the realisation that I will have to face yet another day of wiping the slate clean, starting at another school, and yet again holding up my physically exhausting mental shields to block out the dehumanising things people like to say day to day.

Except they don't.

You see, the thing is, I can, uh, sorta read people's mind like a open book, and perfectly hear their thoughts.

I've been like this since the incident.

Contrary to the popular and widespread belief that it is a 'gift' to be able to understand and 'listen' to people on a whole new level, let me assure you; it's not.

No one in their right state of mind would want to hear the things people leave unsaid;

what a slut,

omg, she's such a freak; all she does is sit there uncomfortably, looking like she's constipated and stares at everyone just a little too long.

After a while, you start to become numb to the deafening roar of these voices inside your head, like me.

That's where I currently am.

In a state of emptiness, forever feeling hollow.

It's draining.

Both mentally and physically.

Grimacing at the idea of being in an entire enclosed area with so many people, I suddenly wish I could disappear, vanish into thin air and avoid the dreariness of it all.

But, like always, my mothers scolding voice reminds me yet again to just keep going.

So I do.

HEY BÏTCHES!
Another instalment of Gifted!

So....what did ya think?
I'm all open to comments and opinions so PLEASE DO JUDGE.

(But if you're gonna be outright rude imma kick yo ass all the way to Chinatown) ;)

K? K.

Today's weird/fun fact: shaved hair actually doesnt grow back thicker. (All these years I've been lied to.) It just has a blunt tip that feels coarse or what not.

That was DEFINITELY weird lol.

That's all folks,

Eloise (aka. stitch_has_a_glitch)