Chapter 3:

I press my forehead against the cool

surface of the mirror, as I try to forget

about the world surrounding me and

focus on my eyes only. They are a light

shade of blue, and if you look closer

you will be able to detect the small

specks of grey hidden within them.

They are the only things I truly love

about myself. Although the blue color is

faded and faint now it will turn into a

deep blue sea of broken dreams when

my eyes water. That is when they are

most beautiful - that is when I'm most

beautiful.

Someone once told me that beauty is in

the eyes of the beholder. I don't believe

that. I believe that beauty is a twisted

version of what it once used to be. I am not that beautiful. I'm plain and

boring and if I was a fruit I would be

the rotten apple in the fruit bowl that

everyone desperately avoids.

I don't use makeup - not because I

don't want to, but because I don't

know how to use it and I'm simply too

embarrassed to ask Megan for help.

My hair is a constant mess that

resembles a haystack more than

anything else. I haven't got a haircut in

Over a year, for no reason.

Plain is the first word that comes to

mind, as I take in my reflection in the

floor to ceiling mirror, in the corner

of my room. But plain is soon replaced

with ugly. That is when I turn my eyes

from the reflective surface and head

for my bed instead. I need comfort - in

any shape or form that I can get it in.

I settle on Netflix -it contains fewer

calories than the tub of ice cream that

I know my Uncle has stashed in the

freezer downstairs.

Call me childish, but I love to watch

Cinderella inspired movies. It comforts

me in my depressed state to know that

the protagonist is always going to end

up with Prince Charming and that no

matter how hopeless everything looks

in the middle the movie is always going

to have a happy ending. Real life isn't

like that. Real life is hard and cruel and

bone crushingly honest. There is almost

never a Prince Charming waiting

around the corner and if you are, after

a lifetime of searching, lucky enough

to find him it will almost always end

up sadly. Did you know that fifty-three

percent of all US marriages end in

divorce?

As the opening credits to the movie

rolls across my computer screen, I flip

my phone in my hands. Mindlessly I

press the home button on my phone

and watch as the screen comes to life.

I don't know what I was expecting; any

kind of life signs from Jason, I guess.

I haven't even realize how dependent

I've gotten to our daily chats and his

used-to-be annoying messages, until I

lock the phone again and toss it across

my bed as I let out a frustrated sigh.

This is unlike me. I don't depend on

anyone, but myself, simply because

it'll only lead to disappointments and

broken hearts. So why on earth have I

gotten so hung up on this boy and his

stupid chat messages?

It doesn't take long before I'm crawling

across the bed to retrieve my phone

again. There is still no unanswered

messages shown on the start screen,

but just to make sure that I haven't

missed any I unlock my phone and

click on the facebook icon my home

screen. It takes a while for the app to

load, but once it does it goes directly

to my conversatiorn with Jason. The

last message in our conversation has

received over three hours ago, but to

make sure that the app isn't fooling me

I reload the app twice. It's a complete

waste of time though; there's still no

new message in our conversation.

I'm frustrated beyond doubt that the

silence between Jason and I have been

dragged on for so long. I think I've

gotten too used to his constant nagging

that haunts me even in class and in

my sleep. I used to think it was rather

annoying that he never stopped, but

now that he hasn't chatted me for

a while I feel as if I've lost a part of

myself. Ever since the friend request

it has been Jason who has started all

of our conversations, but the silence

between us makes me feel so hollow

that I decide to cast off all unwritten

rules and take a chance by being the

one to start the conversation up again,

for the first time.

I closed my eyes, and messaged him asking why he hasn't replied my messages for two days, I waiting for a reply till I slept off.

It was the next day I got a call from megan, saying we should go for a house part, that everyone in school would be present there including the so called cute guy they won't tell me his name… That made me more eager to go for the part, I

quickly got up , took my shower and picked up a nice mini skir, it's my sister's though, I then wore a poker dot crop top I thought it was too revealing but I had already heard Megan car horn, I had to go downstairs I invited her in cause the house party was going to start by 1:00am and it was 12, we told my Uncle about the party he asked us to stay safe, and said we should be back early which we also agreed too. Since there was still spare time we are breakfast after that Megan put on makeup for me and asked me to change from my combat boots to heels, I really wasn't comfortable with heels but she insisted. Then it was time for us to head to the house where they were throwing the party, we both said goodbye to my dad as we entered Megan's car and drove off.

Crashing a house party had never been

on my bucket list, not that I've ever had

one. But once Megan starts begging

there is really no way anyone can tell

her no.

"Come on," Megan groans. She's

pulling me towards the enormous

house where the party is already going

strong. "They're probably all totally

wasted and wont notice you," she

tries to comfort me. I'm going into a

full anxiety attack just thinking about

facing my classmates willingly - well

almost. Megan drags me across the

street to the other side and up the path

that leads through the front lawn and

all of the way up to the front door.

The front yard is littered with empty

cups and cigarette buds. The bass

is booming through the few open

windows in the house, making the glass

in them vibrate from the sound waves

hitting it repeatedly.

We come to a halt in front of the 

door. I can practically see Megan

internally debating on whether we

should knock or just walk in. If I was

the one deciding we would be turning

on our heels and running as fast as

our legs could carry us. But I can't run

and soon enough Megan has pushed

the front door open and is dragging

me inside the lion's cage. The stench

of alcohol and sweat hits me like a

hammer in the head.

We've barely stepped three feet inside

the house before someone grabs a hold

of Megan and drags her towards the

dance floor, leaving me alone in the

entryway. I keep my eyes locked on

Megan, wishing the song will be over

soon so I can reclaim my place at her

side.

As the song reaches its peak I'm

engulfed by the manly stench of sweat

and cigarette smoke when someone

locks their arm around my shoulders

and pulls me to their side.

"Welcome to paradise baby," the

guy slurs in my ear. All of my nerve

endings stand to attention at the

sound of his voice. I can feel the hair

at the nape of my neck rise as I try to

fight him off me as he puckers his lips

and leans towards my cheek. I don't

succeed before a girl, dressed in close

to nothing, comes by to highjack him to

the dance floor. I don't object.

I let my eyes wander back to the dance

floor once I'm sure the guy is gone.

I'm searching for the familiar head of

brown curls, bopping up and down in

the crowd of half-drunken teenagers

that belongs to my best friend. My

heart rate picks up as I realize that

she's not where she was a few minutes

ago. The crowd has swallowed her

whole and I'm completely alone in the

lion's cage. I stay in the living room

for a little while longer, desperately

searching the crowd for Megan, before

I give up on looking for her and try to

find a quiet corner I can hide in until

she comes to finds me.