If You Are Reading, I Am Dead

Chapter Five

🌿Hatred Tastes Bitter🌿

My parents, Saffron and Curtis, used to adore me.

I was their sweet little girl, kind hearted, cooking dinner when they were sick, the perfect child, and their only child.

Now, they never speak to me unless they have to (even then with icy tones), and are absolutely ashamed of me.

Sharell did this too.

I had nothing to do at recess and lunch, at school became nothing short of hell. Sharell seemed to have charmed the teachers (out of me, that is), and now I was never called up in class, got lower marks than usual even though my work had become even better, as I'd been studying and doing homework more often, with nothing else to do.

I came home one day, to find Roux sitting at my kitchen table, bawling her eyes out and Sharell standing behind her, patting her back comfortingly. I was confused to say the least.

"Ah, Ivy. Sit down next to poor Roux here."

My mothers tone had been icy cold.

I nodded and did as she said. I remember it all so well.

"Now, Sharell tells me that you beat Roux up because she wasn't hanging out with you. Is this true?"

"What?! No! Yes, I'm upset that all of the girls are being mean to me but-" I started but Sharell cut me off.

"WE'RE mean? That's the pot calling the kettle black! We stopped hanging out with you because you stole Callus off Roux, then probably killed him, but we've just been ignoring you!"

"That's a fucking lie you bitch, and you know it. Roux and you are putting on some stupid act, trying to blame me for something. And I did not steal Callus, you-" I shouted.

My father shouted louder though.

"IVY! Language! And I for one am sick of your lies, and I am ashamed!" My mother nodded. It hurt.

He turned to Roux and Sharell and spoke in a softer tone.

"You girls had better go home. I'm very sorry, but Ivy here always insists on being right. I am truly sorry."

Sharell nodded and took Roux by the arm. She led her out the door, making soothing noises. Before she left and no one was looking, she smirked and winked. I half expected her to come up to me and tell me her plans, to whisper it in my ear while wearing her usual sly grin. Sharell obviously thought this one would be the death blow for me.

She thought wrong.

Similar 'incidents' kept happening, each time with a different pair of girls, each with a similar story: I beat them up. They painted their faces black and blue with eye-shadow (very convincingly), and I suspected Sara was behind the art: she was shy and was an amazing artist. She didn't come up to fake being hurt.

Also, they told my parents lies about me: how I was a total slut at school, always bad mouthed them (my parents) and everyone else and I was a terrible bully.

My parents drunk up the lies like they hadn't drunk for weeks.

My parents started to dislike me: a few more lies soon turned it to hate though. Perhaps there is love left, but only because I am their daughter and they are my makers.

But everything is drowned out by the bitter taste of hatred.