Kiera (Free Preview On Wattpad)

Five

KIERA.

Unnoticed, unwanted and quite the underdog, I slipped into my room upstairs. The tears I restrained earlier backfired on me. Why hadn't anyone sued karma for being a heartless bitch ten thousand years before my birth? Sad thoughts bugged my memory, pushing me back to three months ago.

Three months, since when Dad threw me out of his house, officially denounced me as his daughter. Three months since I foolishly assumed that he loved me enough to gladly share my burden. Three months since I lost everything that mattered; my family, my job, and my heart. Just when the puzzles in my life appeared to be sorting themselves together, they were blown apart again. A slight tapping on the door cut short my wearisome contemplations.

It cracked open, revealing Amie on the other side, holding a tray bearing two glasses of lemon juice which she sat on my bedside table.

"Is now a good time?" She muttered.

I shrugged half-heartedly but turned my back to her, sniffling quietly. As it was, I had enough on my plate already, and I'd rather not add Amie's fussing to the pile.

"You okay?" She gently lay her arm across my shoulders; I loved such a friendly reminder that someone out there still cared. She led me to sit on the queen-size bed dressed in pristine sheets. It smelled like a garden of roses in paradise.

Unable to zip it in any longer, I released the dam pent up in feverish, choking sobs. She patiently waited for me to get to the stage of blowing my nose and suffering a headache before handing out a fat wad of scented tissues.

"Let it all out, sweetie. Come on and cry like you'll never have a chance to do it again," she soothed me while rubbing my back.

I chortled at her dark humor. There were so many things I desired to whisper, this moment felt so right. Silence prevailed all around us. We were nearly sequestered away from other guests in the mansion, besides, she had a dazzling smile pasted on her face. Unfortunately, when I opened my mouth, the words remained trapped in my stomach. This was one of the many embarrassing times I count my condition as a curse.

"Don't worry about talking," she offered sympathetically. "I understand what you're passing through."

Amie stood up, sauntered over to the table and brought both glasses on her next trip to the bed.

"No," I said flatly, "You don't truly understand. You're just like everybody else, but here I was thinking you shared in my stupid plight."

She dropped the glass she'd been holding straight on the floor, propelling it's shattering into tiny transparent bits swimming in yellow liquid. I remembered she was still a maid, and I was still a special guest in Dylan's eyes, so she had to clean up the mess she carelessly created.

"What are you waiting for? To hear that I'm sorry for standing my ground and refusing to be added to your pity party?"

"Oh Miss," she reverted to her initial method of addressing me, "I didn't mean to offend you. I just..."

"Did?" I crossed my arms under my bust as I leapt from the loathsome bed.

I was profusely tired of people concluding that I had ASD or another terminal disability. Before I was thrown into the river and left for dead, I was so talkative that they labelled me as an ADHD patient. Were popular romance novels which saturated the market responsible for my dilemma? Was it my weird switches between moods and behavioural traits? Focus, Kiera. Focus on this lame girl breaking down your walls as though it's her birthright.

"I don't need your pity. If you have nothing better to say other than remind me of my mundane life, kindly use the door. Don't you dare recount this incident to Dylan. Now piss off."