My Not So Perfect Life

||Chapter 1||

My eyes jolt open. My damp brown hair is plastered to my face due to the extreme amount of sweat my body is releasing. I run my hands over my warm face, taking a deep breath. I have this same nightmare all the time, like a broken record on repeat. Instead, it isn't a nightmare, it is a memory. A memory so vivid, so real that it is hard to erase from my mind. You can't erase the past no matter how much you wish for it to disappear and stop haunting you.

I'm suppose to take pills prescribed to help with my sleep but I have come to find that the side effects are much worse. The pills can make me feel numb like a shallow box with nothing in it. Yeah, I guess that can be a good thing but I demand the feeling of pain somedays. It reminds me of reality and brings me back to life. It keeps my feet on the ground. Sometimes I have days where I do want to go numb, near emotionless so I take the pills but I regret it by the end of the day.

The pills are antidepressants meant to calm my body. My anxiety can become high when going to sleep because the thought of closing my eyes evokes fear in me. I know that once I close my eyes I will be greeted with the terrible image of my mother's lifeless body. You can't just delete an image, a memory that vivid. Stuff like that stays with you forever, popping up at times you least expect it.

The day I lost my mother was the day my life changed forever. My innocence was swept away from me in just a blink of an eye. I had to grow up fast because no one was going to keep me safe from my own self. It's an every day internal battle between the darkness that now is me and the light that I once was. Nowadays, the darkness always seems to win.

I rub my hands over my face again before reaching for my phone. The time reads 4:48 in the morning and the date is November 12th of 2015.

Happy birthday Mom

I don't usually get up for school until six-thirty but I know that going back to sleep isn't an option for me. The frightening memory would keep replaying again and again and I don't have any control on stopping it. I don't know the last time I didn't have a nightmare. I don't even remember when I had one decent night of blissful sleep since the accident.

I jump in the shower, letting the warm water hit me. It runs over my body, awakening me from the bad slumber I endured. It's been almost three long years since the accident that took my mom away from me. I never will be able to see her smile or see the way she lit up every time she was with us.

That was all taken away from me in mere seconds. I blame the government because if they didn't call her at that moment then maybe my mother would still be here. Working for the government killed my mother. My mother was a criminal defense attorney, working under the government's control. Not answering her phone wasn't an option unless she wanted to be at risk of unemployment

"Working in my line of work is a serious thing, girls. I am met with some of the most dangerous individuals this world has ever come across and each time I learn something new. Danger lurks everywhere even in people you would never expect. Be careful who you trust because even the devil was once an angel"

My mother's voice echos through my head like a warning bell. I never understood what she meant but I never forgot her words. Trust for me is something that I treasure. It's hard for me to trust nowadays. I was never the one to ignore my mother's words.

I don't really remember my father but my mom always spoke highly of him with a smile on her face. He was rumored to be the funniest man she had ever grown to know. I am said to be the female version of my father. I have his small thin lips, his green eyes, and brown hair while Paris only has his nose.

He was extremely young when he passed away. At the age of 24, he died of a brain aneurysm. It went undetectable for a couple of years until it ruptured but by that time, it was too late to save him. My sister and I were only a year old, too young to remember but my mother kept his memory alive by promising to talk about him whenever and wherever we wanted.

My mom worked her butt off to be the best mother for us. She never showed the pain that my father's death left behind. I truly felt my mother was invincible because of it. The pain had nothing on my mother but sadly, that changed when the truck struck our car.

When the truck hit us, I thought my life was over. I felt a wave of peace over my body, disconnecting me from reality. The feeling was intoxicating and I wanted to stay like that forever.

Emergency responders arrived just in time to save not only my life but the life of my sister's. Paris barely survived the accident but she pulled through and I was thankful for that. The severeness of her head trauma caused her to lose memories tracing back weeks before the accident, including the accident itself. I was jealous that she didn't remember the accident because I, on the other hand, was left with the memories and images on replay in my mind.

The bad part about my sister is the girl I have grown up with is different, no longer the same. One minute we could be laughing and the next it is as if I am a disease she didn't want to catch. For the last couple of years, I have tried to shake it off as normal sister things but it becomes harder to ignore the more it happens.

I change into my denim jeans and an old red hoodie. I brushed the tangles in my hair out with a comb. I would like for it to be braided but I can not braid hair to save my life.

I creep out of my room, heading straight down the hall to Paris' room. I knew she wouldn't be asleep because she's an early morning person. It's weird for a seventeen-year-old teen to be an early person in my opinion. Thanks to Paris, the misconception around being a teen and sleeping until the late hours of noon is something I fully believe. Just because you are a teen doesn't mean you will sleep until noon.

Paris needed more than an hour to get ready for school to which I found unnecessary. It's just school, not some fashion shoot but I would never dare to say that to her face.

"Paris?" I open the door slowly, my eyes finding her laying on the bed, scrolling through her phone. "Can you braid my hair?"

With a groan, she sits up, stretching her arms as she yawns. "Sure. I might as well get up since your–" She glares at me, "–shower woke me up." I can tell she is irritated.

Paris is a younger version of my mother. She has blonde hair and bright blue eyes with a vibrant and loud personality. She's like a magnet, attracting everyone to her bright character.

She's the sun while I am the moon. She's day while I'm the night. People always question the fact that we are twins because of how opposite we are.

I have mid-length brown hair with rich green eyes that sparkle with just a tint of blue. My mom always said I was blessed with the brightest green eyes. She would tell me that "it is like looking at the Emerald City of Oz."

Unlike Paris, I choose to stay away from the crowds of people she draws in. I prefer to stay away from the spotlight that shines on my sister. She's Beyoncé and I'm Kelly Rowland, singing in the background. I would rather have one close friend than ten. You can't just hand out your trust to everyone. Trust isn't money that gets exchanged between people. It has to be earned which is why I limit myself to the number of friends I have.

I sit in front of Paris with my hands in my lap as she braids my hair. "You need to start taking those pills" I roll my eyes at the authority in her tone of voice, "It will help you sleep."

I don't say anything as I sit there fiddling with my fingers in my lap.

"I miss her too, you know?" The crack of her voice is hard to ignore.

I try not to talk about mom too much. Thinking about mom makes me think about the accident that took her away from us. I don't want to think about the accident in hopes of moving on and forgetting about it. I want to forget about it just enough to ease the pain. If I think too much, I feel too much pain. Pain is a weakness. I don't want to show any signs of weakness in front of others. I hate being seen as weak. Weakness can be used against you and if I don't show weakness then no one will be able to get close enough to hurt me.

My mother's death left long term effects on me. I push all my feelings away, putting a wall up so that no one can ever make me feel something ever again. Feelings make you weak and weakness causes trouble and trouble is one thing that I don't want to add to my list.

After all, my list is long enough.