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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Kids
- Theme: Love stories / Romance
- Subject: Aging / Maturity
- Published: 10/24/2016
I blink in the half light and sleep detaches from the crevices of my eyes. yawning I flick my faded brown to blonde hair over my shoulder and sit up. My twin Chloe stands over me wearing a black bowler hat, faded blue denim shirt, black skinny jeans, full dark eyebrows, and reddish maroon lipstick. she blinks her deep blue eyes and throws my bag at me. I find inside she has made some icing sugar dusted brownies and a toastie for my lunch. I know I won't eat them anyway, one meal a day. Otherwise, my system feels clogged and overloaded and the only way I have to deal with feelings like that is to run away and escape or slice my wrists until I faint.
Chloe comes back in and I know she has been awake since five o'clock like always, The makeup is doing a good job but it can't hide the dark rings that rim her eyes or the nervous tick in her cheek, it doesn't even obscure the tears that stain her cheeks and well in her eyes.
I wipe my face and avoid brushing my hair by pulling a beanie low over my face which is clear of makeup. I sigh at the dismal sight of my face which in theory should be beautiful like Chloe's. These days it's practically the opposite.
Chloe is an optimist, an early riser, she is model-girl material with her slender nose big eyes, slanted cheekbones, arched eyebrows and tanned skin she is perfect down to the way she does her wavy ombre hair, the way she laughs with her friends at star-bucks after school, the way in which she is in an alternative universe from me.
Running down the stairs, into the kitchen I notice Chloe is sitting on her bed with the door open crying.
I quickly grab cheese, chocolate sauce and bread. I squash them into a sandwich and stuff it into my bulging cheeks. Chloe enters with a fresh coat of makeup attempting to hide her sadness. She makes a face at my partially devoured breakfast. I grin back with chocolatey teeth, the expression on my face does not match the one inside. The sandwich will be my only meal. I'm beginning to hate my body more and more these days. Chloe smiles at me but it feels uniform and routine like we are actors doing a bad job on the stage.
I head up to the bathroom and I hear mum begin to yell at Chloe down stairs. I can feel the wave of anger rushing through her, or maybe it's the screaming that's giving me the aching swirling sensation. I'm not sure which but either way, it seems to be possessing my brain. I hit the floor like a scared child in an earthquake drill and tears stream from my eyes. The bathroom swirls: a torrent of modern white tiles and walls, Darkness begins to fill my vision and I feel like I'm going to faint. I fight the queasy sensation and clutch the bath.
I slip the knife from it's spot under the cupboard and consider making a cut on my wrist but then everything falls silent and I hear the crack of a slap resounding through the house. The tears come again hot, thick and fast.
Tommorow I will turn 16, tommorow my Dad will return from jail to see us for the first time in 7 years. And I have a feeling with him here things will turn from desperate to destructive.
I turn towards my bedroom until I feel vomit begin to boil in the pitt of my stomach. I rush to the bathroom and nausea claws at my throat like a monster. Sure enough my sandwich has been liquified and emptied into the sink.
--- AN// this story is unfinished & will be updated under the same name---
I Can't Stay(Beth)
I blink in the half light and sleep detaches from the crevices of my eyes. yawning I flick my faded brown to blonde hair over my shoulder and sit up. My twin Chloe stands over me wearing a black bowler hat, faded blue denim shirt, black skinny jeans, full dark eyebrows, and reddish maroon lipstick. she blinks her deep blue eyes and throws my bag at me. I find inside she has made some icing sugar dusted brownies and a toastie for my lunch. I know I won't eat them anyway, one meal a day. Otherwise, my system feels clogged and overloaded and the only way I have to deal with feelings like that is to run away and escape or slice my wrists until I faint.
Chloe comes back in and I know she has been awake since five o'clock like always, The makeup is doing a good job but it can't hide the dark rings that rim her eyes or the nervous tick in her cheek, it doesn't even obscure the tears that stain her cheeks and well in her eyes.
I wipe my face and avoid brushing my hair by pulling a beanie low over my face which is clear of makeup. I sigh at the dismal sight of my face which in theory should be beautiful like Chloe's. These days it's practically the opposite.
Chloe is an optimist, an early riser, she is model-girl material with her slender nose big eyes, slanted cheekbones, arched eyebrows and tanned skin she is perfect down to the way she does her wavy ombre hair, the way she laughs with her friends at star-bucks after school, the way in which she is in an alternative universe from me.
Running down the stairs, into the kitchen I notice Chloe is sitting on her bed with the door open crying.
I quickly grab cheese, chocolate sauce and bread. I squash them into a sandwich and stuff it into my bulging cheeks. Chloe enters with a fresh coat of makeup attempting to hide her sadness. She makes a face at my partially devoured breakfast. I grin back with chocolatey teeth, the expression on my face does not match the one inside. The sandwich will be my only meal. I'm beginning to hate my body more and more these days. Chloe smiles at me but it feels uniform and routine like we are actors doing a bad job on the stage.
I head up to the bathroom and I hear mum begin to yell at Chloe down stairs. I can feel the wave of anger rushing through her, or maybe it's the screaming that's giving me the aching swirling sensation. I'm not sure which but either way, it seems to be possessing my brain. I hit the floor like a scared child in an earthquake drill and tears stream from my eyes. The bathroom swirls: a torrent of modern white tiles and walls, Darkness begins to fill my vision and I feel like I'm going to faint. I fight the queasy sensation and clutch the bath.
I slip the knife from it's spot under the cupboard and consider making a cut on my wrist but then everything falls silent and I hear the crack of a slap resounding through the house. The tears come again hot, thick and fast.
Tommorow I will turn 16, tommorow my Dad will return from jail to see us for the first time in 7 years. And I have a feeling with him here things will turn from desperate to destructive.
I turn towards my bedroom until I feel vomit begin to boil in the pitt of my stomach. I rush to the bathroom and nausea claws at my throat like a monster. Sure enough my sandwich has been liquified and emptied into the sink.
--- AN// this story is unfinished & will be updated under the same name---
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