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Trisha Louise Lockwood. A girl who's tired of having a bad reputation. A girl who decides to change despite her challenging home situation. A girl who thought she was unreadable until she met Tobias Melvin. She didn't know one person could change her entire life. She didn't know one person could save her from so many demons. He calls her SUGAR despite her life being anything but sweet. "When something tastes bitter, what do you do? You add sugar because it sweetens it up perfectly and it tastes better." Tobias responds, his eyes flickering between my lips and eyes. I feel like my heart is going to burst through my chest and I simply nod back at him. "I strongly believe if you enter someone's life, you'll sweeten it up completely," Tobias whispers, his breathing becoming shallow. His eyes are fully trained on my lips now and I let my tongue flick out, wetting my bottom lip. I don't know if it's my imagination but I'm sure I hear an animal like growl come from his throat. . . Only for a split second. "Do you need sugar in your life?" I whisper bravely, my voice trembling. He takes a few seconds to reply but his response has me quivering at the knees - "You know I do."
I watch her face flash with surprise, eyes widening as she stares at me over dramatically. "Trisha Louise Lockwood, what in god's name have you done to yourself?!"
I roll my eyes, biting my tongue so I won't accidentally say something I later regret.
"It's just a hair change," I mumble, noticing how disgusted her expression is. She's leaning against my bedroom door frame, her long blonde hair falling freely down her shoulders. Her makeup is immaculately done as usual and she's dressed in a red figure hugging dress. Complete with laced up six inch heels. This is her dress attire. . . crazy, I know.
"What was wrong with the blonde?" She argues back, shaking her head in disappointment. I feel the anger brewing up inside of me as she sighs and mutters under her breath.
"I wanted a change! Do you not like it?" I respond, feeling hurt. Why couldn't she accept my decision and support me?
You know . . . like a normal Mum.
"The blonde is our signature look sweetie, you know that." Mum responds, dodging my question entirely. She doesn't act like a Mum at all. She's wild, crazy and basically an older version of myself.
Correction, the old me.
"That's the exact reason I wanted to do this," I mumble, playing with the strands of my dark brown hair. It's way shorter now but I like it, a lot. It took me courage to finally walk through the doors of the hairdressers and ask for a total makeover.
"You may be able to change your hair colour Trish but it won't change who you are." Mum says bitterly before spinning around and click-clacking her way downstairs. Her words hit me hard and I blink, eyes glazing over with a sudden glossy sheen.
Is Mum right? Did I change my hair colour for no reason at all?
I stand up and walk over to my bedroom mirror, grimacing at the bright pink walls. Everything in here is pink. Not the pretty shade of pink either. Eye watering, in your face bright pink that makes me want to hurl. I have no clue what I was thinking, the colour now makes me feel physically sick.
My appearance is completely different.
Instead of the thick blonde long hair falling almost down to my waist, it's now chestnut brown and short. The strands end just above my shoulders and frames my face perfectly. I can't help but feel relieved studying my appearance. . . The blonde was so exhausting. Every time I caught a glimpse of my hair, it reminded me of all the silly idiotic things I've done in my past.
Do you know how hard it is to look at yourself in the mirror and feel disgusted?
Feel like you've completely let yourself down?
Become someone you don't even recognise anymore?
That's what happened to me.
Where was the innocent little girl who loved to play dress up and Barbie's?
The little girl who had boys that were best friends, not bed friends. I've lost all of my male friends through my own stupidity.
Life lesson — don't sleep with your friends, any friendship you had before that will completely disappear. I learned that the hard way. My thoughts turn towards my first boyfriend and I clench my teeth in anger. My hatred for him would always burn strong. He'd completely broken me, taking my innocence away with him as soon as he cheated on me. That's the point in my life where I became wild Trish.
I wanted a change. . . scrap that.
I needed a change to be able to survive the heartache.
Now I don't want to be blonde Trish anymore. I've grown to realise that I can't let him win. It's time to say goodbye to Trisha who's always up for a laugh. I'm the first person to get wasted at parties . . . I'm the first person to attract multiple guys attention but for all the wrong reasons. I'm the girl that boys will time to see how long it will take to jump into bed with me. Sometimes, it's not even on a bed.
Yes, I'm aware that is disgusting.
Everyone can always count on blonde Trish to do something stupid.
Like the time I stripped off and skinny dipped at a beach party, the photo's went viral the next day. Or the time I was so wasted, I woke up in a strangers bed. Or when I was locked in a room with one of my exes, screaming at the top of my lungs to get him off me because he thought it was what I wanted. It wasn't.
Trisha Lockwood - the girl with the reputation.
How did I allow it to get so far?
I'm an idiot for thinking hair dye and a haircut can change my past. From this day on, I've made a pinky promise to myself to change who I've become. Show the world the real Trish. Everyone knows you can't break a pinky promise.
I lie back on my bed and cuddle my favourite teddy bear. I've owned him since I was five years old and he's the only man in my life never to let me down. Whenever I need a cuddle or a shoulder to cry on, he's always there for me. Fresh tears sting my eyes but I refuse to let them fall. I never ever cry.
Not anymore.
Maybe Mum's words are right.
I won't ever be able to change who I am.
*****
A soft knock on my bedroom door catches my attention and I bounce off my bed, turning off the music playing through my stereo.
"Yeah?" I call out, opening the bedroom door expecting to see Mum. Instead my eyes drop down to Leroy. He's looking up at me with big puppy dog eyes, blue pupils shining so brightly. His lashes are so thick and long and he bats them repeatedly — a trick I taught him myself.
It's insanely cute and irresistible.
"Trish, I'm hungry!" He whines, reaching up to pull at the hem of my hoody. I frown and bent down, wiping at a crayon mark on his cheek.
"Where's Mum, bud?" I ask him, giving up on the stain. It doesn't budge. Leroy simply shrugs, glancing down at his bare feet. I feel my jaw clench in anger and I shake my head, taking hold of his hand in mine. Typical.
"Come on cutie, I'll fix you up a sandwich." I respond over enthusiastically, hoping he couldn't sense the anger in my voice.
Leroy is my baby cousin but I see him as more of a younger brother. His parents died from a joint drug overdose when he was two, leaving him without a family. I remember the day Mum bought him home, he arrived with two clean t-shirts, one pair of shoes and a plastic bag of stuffed toys. I fell in love with his puppy-dog eyes as soon as I looked in to them. Leroy is now five and part of the family.
The kid is bright, bubbly and simply adorable. Mum doesn't deserve him, at all. She attempts to care for us but it's never enough. One meal a day is all she provides along with a mountain of clothes. Thankfully I'm old enough to look after myself but I can't say the same about Leroy. Material possessions is all Mum cares about, buying our love instead of gaining it. Leroy never complains about it but I guess it's because he's too young to know any different.
"Can I have tuna sweetcorn, please?" Leroy asks me, clutching my hand tightly in his as we trot down the stairs. I nod, giving him a small smile. "Sure, do you want anything else?"
"A chocolate teddy!" He cries out, a smile beaming across his face. I let out a laugh already knowing he'd ask for his favourite snack. A chocolate filled teddy bear. . . He's been addicted to them for the past three years.
He beams up at me, a pink tint covering his little cheeks. It warms my heart knowing that one little boy looks up at me with pure love in his eyes. I would never take that for granted.
A child holds so much innocence. In their eyes, you can do no wrong. They don't judge, they don't stereotype. They don't listen to the rumours and instead they form their own opinion of you.
"I love you, bud," I murmur quietly, ruffling his blonde curly locks with my hand. He bats my hand away from his head playfully, scrunching his nose up in false disgust. I chuckle at his reaction however his response really does make me happy.
"I love you, Trish."
