A Book With Pages Missing

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The sun dragged itself above the horizon and the sunlight crept through my translucent blinds. Birds chirped and trees swayed. My bedroom was a mess as always, clothes and books littered on the wooden floor. At last, noise broke the silence.

The pounding of stairs.

"Oh no..." I thought, bringing the duvet closer to my face. The door bursted open and a woman stood in the doorway. "Wake up Aurora! How long have you been asleep for?!"
Before she had even ended her sentence, I leapt out of bed. I knew what would happen if I ignored her and stayed...

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As my mother left the room, I approached the full size mirror. I was a surprisingly petite girl. I had pastel pink hair that reached the middle of my shoulder blades and porcelain skin to compliment my azure eyes.

However, amongst all of my perfect features, there was one that destroyed them all. Ugly scars were plastered on my shoulder blades, its white pigment piercing my beautiful skin. I sighed, knowing that its ugliness will stick to me for the rest of my miserable life.

I reached the dining table, stared at by my parents, Carol and Paul. Carol had a sculpted face and hair like copper, her topaz eyes always hindered by fatigue and stress. Paul's head was nearly covered in white hair and his green eyes lacked life.

"Hiya," I mumbled. I didn't really have the same connection with my parents as most people have. It was dull and... unloving.

I sat in silence and gazed at the wooden table. A voice chimed in. "Well? Aren't you gonna eat?" Paul's tone was impatient. I stood up from the creaking chair, already walking towards the stairs before he could react.

My bedroom was one of the most comforting things for me. Warm, safe and loving. I stared at the alarm that barely managed to balance on my overcrowded desk. "17th of August." I got dressed in leggings and a midnight hoodie, the darkness of the clothes encasing me in a warm blanket of comfort. "At least it covers them ugly scars."

As soon as I left the house, the crisp refreshing air soothed my lungs, my breath rising in the early air. It was comforting for me to walk to school alone. After all, I knew where it was after my introduction day. I still had 30 minutes to get to school and start my first day. Putting in my earplugs, the world around me became quiet. The songs that I listened to were songs that didn't turn up on the radio. The radio didn't care about good artists, only the repetitive and corny love songs. I couldn't relate to any of them. Love was something you were privileged with, not deserved the right to have. I just got the short straw in my life.

As I was walking, I recalled my first day awake since the accident. Waking up with the machines around me accompanied by a chorus of beeps. My parents telling me who they were. Sitting on the turquoise chair and smelling the sterilised air of the hospital for the first time without my oxygen tubes. Being taught how to eat, drink and even breathe. Seeing my scar and then crying for the first time. I sighed. Life was difficult.

The press and media obviously wanted to hear about the whole situation and sure enough they got what they wanted. Papers among papers were published, the whole city informed by the time I was released from the hospital. Of course I wanted to see the article once I was well enough to even read but my parents refused to let me read it. They said it "Would upset me".

My mind is cloudy and I can only rely and my parents for any sort of information.

Kinda like a book with pages missing.

I had been walking for what seemed like forever until I saw the gates of Hell. Sacred Heart Academy. "Here goes nothing..."

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