I'm looking in the mirror. The glass is pristine, freshly cleaned and wiped down, stripped of the bacteria and cloudiness and deformation that comes when you look at yourself in a dirty mirror.
But the deformation is still there.
It's such a shame that I resemble my father quite a bit. Our hair is our biggest similarity, black and wavy. My cheekbones also follow the same slant as his and my chin is an almost exact replica. My eyes, though. They stand out against the dark shades of my hair and severe lines of my face, contrasted so much by my true nature.
When people say 'blue eyes', they always picture bright, sky blue, too overwhelming to be nice. My eyes are rimmed in a dark blue, like the ocean, and specks of a lighter blue are hidden away within the contours and fragments.
I'v always loved my eyes. It's been the only thing I don't hate about myself mostly because they are so different from my parents'. My mother has blue eyes too, but not the same as mine, and so I take this as an opportunity and revel in our differences.
It's an hour before I have to sign the contract, and I'm shaking all over. I hate myself for being so compliant. I hate myself for not standing up for myself. I hate myself for not running when I have the chance.
I look down at my outfit, one of many that I'v thrown around the room in a haste to look half decent.
A cream cropped wool jumper and bell bottomed black jeans with my Doc's is the last outfit I'm changing into.
The only reason I'm taking care with how I look is because I need this family to have a good impression of me. I can't be walking around in sweats all day, and I have to try and save myself from any torture this agreement will bring.
I refuse to call it a marriage, because I don't want to taint the concept with this cruel situation.
Just thinking about it makes me dizzy with incredulity and anger. The anger again, coming back in waves, especially when I look at myself.
Maybe I should change.
My room is in an even bigger tip than it was in yesterday, and I don't bother tidying away. Maybe if I leave it like this, I can come back home and resume my miserable life. Nothing of mine is packed, and everything seems so normal but out of place and I can't help but think that I'm going to miss it. The clutter, the comfort, the cherries.
Maybe I should change.
I turn and pick up Zeus from his place on the floor behind me, watching me. He seems to smile, and I pet behind his ears before picking up my phone from my dumpster of a bed and walking out of my room.
I have no idea where I'm supposed to go for this contract signing. My father didn't tell me anything.
I walk down the hall towards his office and stand outside for what seems like forever before I take one hell of a deep breath and knock.
I try to avoid being around him, because every time I do, there's always something about the interaction that makes me feel cherry, and I try to avoid that as much as possible these days if I want to have a semblance of happiness.
I hear a muffled "come in" from inside the office and hesitantly open the door, knowing he doesn't like a fuss of loud whenever someone opens and closes the door.
He's sitting at his desk, like always, with a cigar one hand and a single sheet of paper in his other. I hate it when he smokes, because the smell always sticks onto me afterwards, if I'm around him, and it makes me feel sick. So sick. Sick to my stomach. It's such a suffocating kind of smoke and because I don't want to come near it, I stay standing up near the door.
I don't think he likes that though.
His eyes are scrutinising me, and he's glaring at my clothes so harshly I almost think they are about to catch fire.
Maybe I should change.
I don't know what to do, and I'm beginning to feel very uncomfortable with the way he's looking at me. Maybe I really should change. I don't like this outfit anymore.
Finally, he looks back at my face and takes another puff of his cigar. "Everything is ready. Sit down." He motions towards the chair opposite him, and at this moment I can't be more thankful for the desk that sits between us.
He pulls out another sheet of paper from under the pile, and places it in front of me, throwing a pen on top of it, which nearly rolls off the desk from the force.
"Sign it." I can tell he's getting irritated now, and maybe I should just get up and leave.
I really, really don't want to do this.
But maybe I can escape from here.
But what if it's equally as bad there?
Maybe if I change I'll feel better.
I pick up the pen and slide the paper closer to me. The words are all a blur on the sheet of paper, and I can feel my eyes getting heavy, a cloudiness coating them.
I want to read it before doing anything else, and so I sit there, trying to focus on the black letters forming words, the sentences, paragraphs, full stops. Everything is flying out towards my face, aiming towards my heart.
A puff of smoke fills all my senses, and I immediately start to cough, my eyes watering and the smell going straight to my brain. I grimace and rub my eyes, trying to catch my breath.
I look up and he has the cigar pointed directly at my face. He did it deliberately and I hate him. I hate him so much. I hate him I hatehimihatehimihatehim.
His voice is sinister and daring as he speaks, and I nearly shake from fear, but that little shred of self dignity peeks it's head up and tells me to stay calm and listen.
"Sign, or you know what will happen." I look down at the sheet again and see a dotted line right at the bottom of the page. I don't think. I write.
I can't risk it.
I've hardly lifted the pen off of the paper when he's snatching it away and filing it somewhere in one of his locked desk drawers.
I just want to rip that up into tiny little shreds and throw it in his face.
My body is still, but my mind is in a frenzy, all over the place, questioning, crying to itself, begging me to do something other than be a coward and sit there.
I have no choice. He'll hurt Zeus, and I can't I would rather die.
"You have tomorrow to come back and pack only. Now get out." I'm hit with another puff of smoke and i scramble out of the chair and into the hallway, gasping for breath and gasping for a shred of hope that maybe, maybe things won't be as bad as this in my new 'family'.
I can feel my heart beat thump, dun dun, dun dun, against my chest and I force myself to close my eyes and calm down before I do anything else.
I don't want to stay here anymore. I can't.
I walk back to my room and grab Zeus' lead from next to a pile of cushions, wrapping it around him carefully. I hate this thing and I know he hates it more, but I can't risk him getting lost. I cant risk him disappearing. I cannot risk.
I'm thankful that I can at least come back here to get my things, and I take one more look at my room before stepping out and shutting my door.
Shutting this world out, this house, everything.
The front door is unlocked, and I make sure to have my house key for tomorrow, just in case no-one answers the door. I wouldn't be surprised.
The sun isn't out today, and there's a grey cloud hanging low over my eyebrow as I take in a deep breath, already smelling the beginnings or a rain storm.
There's a black Volkswagen parked directly outside my house, and a man who could easily be my grandfather is standing next to the passenger side door with his hands clasped behind his back and a pristine tuxedo suit clamped to his body.
His hair is all grey, but his eyes are a soft brown. This time, the creases on his face don't shout at me.
He walks towards me and smiles a gentle, homely type of smile. I'm stunned at his warmth and slowly smile back at him. I don't usually smile because there's not much to smile at or to in my house. Zeus is the only one who's seen me smile properly.
"Madam Fiori?" His voice is slightly higher than my fathers, but a lot more welcoming and energetic. It makes me feel comfortable.
But the name he directs at me doesn't. "Oh um sorry, I'm Mia." My voice comes out relatively quiet, probably because I have no idea who this man is and what he wants from me.
"Ah yes, Mia Fiori, madam. That is you." He has a slight accent, but I can't pick it up because it's not that heavy and my mind isn't concentrating at the moment.
I shake my head, like that will rid me of my new name, but it doesn't, and the man only smiles at me.
"Who are you." I don't want to stutter and be seen as a nervous wreck, even though my insides protest.
"Mr Fiori sent me to collect you and bring you back to his house."
"Mr Fiori?" I'm trying to wrap my mind around all of this and the fact that these people have a butler, and so must be a lot more powerful than my father let on. Maybe a butler isn't a good indicator of power, but it certainly is of money.
"Mr Fiori, madam. Your husband." I shiver involuntarily and my mind seems to stop spinning for a second. I clear my throat and nod at him, still trying to process the fact that now I have a husband.
I've never even met my husband, and now I have to go and live with him. What if he hates me? What if he is worse than my father?
Surely not.
Mr butler waves me towards the backseat of the car and opens the door for me, smiling once more before I'm shut off from my old life, everything disappearing as we pull out and speed away.
So whenever i refer to her emotions as 'cherry', it basically just means anything negative that makes her want to draw them on her wall.
The story should be picking up soon, and I can't wait for you all to meet Mr Fiori 😏.
Love you