Chapter 1
Like A Rock Star
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Okay, so I have two loving parents, a roof over my head, all the food and shit I could ever and never need, the best tutor money (and flirting *cough* mum *cough*) could get, a weekly wage considered 'outrageous' by others, an adorable three year old little bro who loves and looks up to me, a weird and unique super cute pet stoat (if you dot know what that is, look it up, it's freakin adorable) , a whole Posse whom considers me a leader and, dare I say, goddess *shivers*. You'd think I'd be happy, right? Well, I've got one word for ya mister.
WRONG!
I have everything, and yet I have nothing. Hardly see my parents. My 'friends' are only there for the school status and occasional shopping trips and parties. I know, I know. You must be thinking this is so cliche! Neglect ice parents, fake friends.
Don't get me wrong, my parents are lovely caring people and would do anything in the world to provide for me. Unfortunately that gets in the way of them actually seeing their daughter grow up. Too caught up in their work I find myself home alone most, or all of the time more often then not, taking care of my younger sibling who now refers to me as mum. And that leaves a lot of room to think. To realise I'm just a figure head at school, being used to gain popularity. And sometimes really cute shoes. My mum has a tendency to always buy me heals. Mum, I love ya but no. Just no. So I end up giving most of them away. Back on topic.
I know brooding is considered mentally unhealthy, but meh. There's nothing much to do here. I came to a realisation, an epiphany, if you will, that I was never being me. The girl that strutted through those halls, adorned in rich bitch clothes flanked by her Posse tittering along in dainty heals was not me. It was them.
I hated heals, I hated dresses, I hated the colour pink. Heck, I hated my boyfriend. I was being moulded into who they wanted to be. Their idea of perfect. Their idea of popular. Their idea of a daughter. I was being controlled this whole time. And I let them. Because I feared being rejected, I let them decide for me, let them create me. I wasn't even my own person.
And people wonder why I went dark so suddenly. One minute I'm all 'ooh! I love my life! La la la!' and then, BAM! 'Fuck it! Demonic bitch is coming out!' then go all emo on your ass.
So what do I do about this sudden new outlook on my life? I change. Everything.
One night when my parents weren't around, shocker, and left me to take care of my bro, I throw all my bright prissy clothes in a bag and shove it down the stairs, feeling satisfaction watching it barrel down and thump against the front door. I leave only the things I like in my draws, being a deep red long sleeved shirt, a black singlet, tights, shorts -denim and what not- and a leather hooded jacket and grey beanie. That's it. No joke.
Kyan, my little brother, followed the noise to my room and crawled up onto my bed as I worked, watching my every move with curious eyes.
Sneering, I teer all the photos of me and my 'friends' off the walls and mirrors, smirking in seeing a few -okay all- rip at my aggressive action. With that done, I plan to burn them, or drop them down the sewers, so they'd finally be in their natural environment.
Turning around I came to my shoe closet. Without even needing to think, I've already stuffed a large portion of colourful flats and heels into bags, tossing them out my door in a heap to roll down the stairs making Kyan giggle. After my little throwing episode I'm left with a pair of sneakers, thongs -or flip flops for those of you who call em that- black flats and my boots. If their is type of shoe I like, it's mah boots. One pair goes up to just below my knee, at the bottom they look like work boots but have buckles wrapped around the ankle and upper calf. My others are my babies. My beloved combat boots. I would never ever EVER think about throwing them out.
Clothes and shoes are done, now to appearance. I instantly went to a large set of draws, opening and detaching the draw, dumping all it's contents into another bag. Goooodbyyyyye make up! I grinned wickedly at imagining my mums horror stricken face at seeing what I've done. I snickered as I pulled out another draw and tipped it into the bag. After re attaching my draws I stuck my hand in the bag, fishing through all the top brand mascara's, eyeliners, toners and what not until pulling out a single tube of Chapstick. Coke flavour. Me likey.
Kyan hopped off the bed as I finished tying up the bag and walked over to me. I placed the bag on the floor and we both rolled it to the top of the stair.
"Okay, ready? On three." Kyan started to giggle as he got ready to push the bag. "One. Two. Three!" He squealed in delight as he watched the trash tumble down the stairs "Come on, you little munchkin." He started laughing as I picked him up, holding him like superman and flying him to my room again.
Once I set him on my bed, I quickly got changed into the deep red long sleeve with tights and black shorts over the top and slipped on my combat boots without lacing them up. I opened my larger than necessary jewellery box and pulled out the only pieces that I actually liked. A set of black earrings that looked like studs and my late grandmas silvery necklace that fit like a choker but looked like dragon scales. Rather epic. I quickly swapped my flashy jewellery for the more me ones and looked in the mirror.
My hair. It was long, reaching the top of my butt, dyed on my mums request. The brown wavy locks shimmied down my back as I shook my head. The original colour was a platinum black, that almost shinned blue. I found it rather beautiful and unique, but no. Since my mum and dad had brown hair! I don't like the flowing veil of chocolate one bit. In fact, I fucking hate it. It's too plain and boring. Luckily, I was due for another trip to the salon for the 'expert' hair dying. At least an inch or two of the roots were my original hair colour. I pulled out scissors and viciously hacked it all off until there was two inches left, the tips stained the awful brown. At the front of my hair I designed a side fringe, letting it fall comfortably over my left eye.
I scourged the bathroom for my mums collection of hair dyes, finding an easy foam to dye the tips a fiery red. Just as I was applying, Kyan walked into the bathroom and tugged on my shorts.
"Mum?" He asks in his sweet voice, looking up at me with baby blue eyes that just melted my insides.
"Yes sweetie?" I decided a while back I didn't mind him calling me that. I'd rather him have an attentive mother then an absent one, like the one I grew up with. Bending down to his level so he didn't have to crane his head up, which proved difficult since I'm 5'9", I smiled at him letting him continue.
"Why are you changing?" He pointed to my half done hair and new clothes. I decided to sit down cross legged, squatting being too tiring, allowing Kyan to crawl into my lap. I cuddled him to me as he rested his head on my chest.
"I didn't like the way I was before, it wasn't me." I said simply. "I like this me better." I gently rocked him as he snuggled into the crook of my neck. Then he whispered something that made my day, no year.
"I like this you better too." Smiling softly I looked at my watch, only just then realising the time, which was well past his bedtime. Still holding the cute little three year old I stood up and walked to my bed room. I carefully laid him down on my bed and pulled the covers over him, placing a light kiss on his forehead. I grabbed his stuffed monkey off my night stand and tucked it underneath his arms and watched him squeeze it in his sleep.
I turned back to the bathroom to rinse out the excess dye. Looking at my new self in the mirror a frown settles upon my face.
The dreaded glasses.
The cute little nerdy rimmed glasses sat tauntingly on my nose, causing it to scrunch up in disgust as it slipped ever so delicately down. I have never needed glasses, I have perfectly fine vision, but some people thought at the age of five I looked adorably with the bulky too big frame barely sitting on my head, causing it to slide a lot. But being a clueless little child I just rolled with it, never thought anything of it, and it has become second nature in wearing it.
I plucked the harmless things off my face and looked through the lens at a distance. It was just flat glass, so it didn't effect my vision at all. With a slight growl, I snapped the cursed things, discarding the broken pieces with the pile of scrapped photos as I walked back into my room from the ensuite.
I exited the room, turning the light off and slowly closing the door, leaving it open a tad bit, knowing how much Kyan hates the dark. I walked downstairs and grabbed a snack from the fridge and switched on the T.V making sure the volumes at a reasonable level.
"That's right, ninjas in New York!" Rolling my eyes at the news reporter I switched to a different channel, watching the last ten minutes of Transformers before heading for bed, doing all the usual things beforehand. I.e shower, teeth.
Once changed into my P.j's I crawled into bed with Kyan. He automatically curled up against my side as I smiled softly and stroked his chocolate brown hair.
I don't care what anyone thinks of my new look. I feel better, more relaxed, more free. Like a rock star.
And I don't care if people judge me for having a kid at the age of fifteen. Sure he's not mine, but that doesn't mean I can't be his mother.
All I know is, I don't care as long as I have him. Cus right now, he's the only one that likes me for me.