Borrowed Time

Epitome of Darkness

Prologue

Ainsley

No one ever tells you the horrors the world holds, the darkness that lurks around every corner, inching slowly up your spine engulfing you in its twisted arms. Contorting your mind, limiting your emotions. Instead, they tell you of love, happiness and all the good in the world. They paint life as a perfect portrait, one that as you get older, you realise does not exist. I think a lot about life... when I say this, I don't mean the future, kids, husbands, a perfect career, a dream college, because truthfully?

I don't see that for myself.

     As like most nights, I find myself perched on the roof of what most people would see as my 'picture perfect house'. Lying on my back, my legs sprawled out one crossed over the other, my hands gently placed behind my head. I like coming up here, it feels like the one of the few places in this god-for-saken town where I can breathe. To the majority of the ignorant occupants of this town, I'm the perfect girl, with a perfect life. My father's an owner of a high brand hotel chain across America, my mother the owner of a luxurious cosmetics brand. My family literally drown in money; they live the high-end lifestyle of lavish parties, wealthy brunches, private jets and so on whilst I'm left behind the scenes drowning in a sea of anguish. You see how I keep using that same word, perfect? As if the concept could ever exist. Yet the truth lies far from what they think, because behind the girl that appears to have everything lies a girl drawn to darkness. A girl that sees no light, no love, a girl that suffers everyday with the pain of her past, her present and her future.

     I take in a deep breath, feeling the cold winter winds stagger down into my lungs, momentarily holding it there. Closing my eyes before letting it back out realising my icy breath back into the atmosphere. My eyes fixated on the stars, the only real constant in my life. I always found stars intriguing. How something so alone in the dark abyss of the universe somehow manages to light up the night sky a million miles away. The endless constellations soothing to me, offering a small break from the demanding thoughts that cloud my mind every second of everyday. Yet tonight was different from the rest, because for some reason no matter how hard I tried to focus on the beauty that lay above me, my mind still wondered back to the one thought looming in the back of my mind. The thought that had infiltrated my brain like an army of soldiers for the past 10 months. I slowly sat up, resting on my elbows looking at the old Oak tree that graced the garden. My eyes wondered to the left of me adjusting to the single flame, dancing in the winter breeze. I leant over, grabbing the small cupcake in my two hands. Bringing the candle up to reach my lips, the heat temporarily caressing my skin. Inhaling a cold breath and blowing out the light.

"Happy 18th Birthday Ainsley" I whispered to myself as a lone tear slid down my cheek. I pulled the sleeve of my hoodie over my hand, desperately wiping it away before heading back to climb through my window. I sat at my vanity, looking at my dishevelled appearance. I focused on the prominent black eye bags that dragged down the underneath of my eyes, my gaunt pale skin and my messily, scraped back auburn hair. The thing that people don't realise about successful parents like my own, is that they very rarely have time for their children. They spend their time tucked away in one of my dad's fancy hotels for business meetings, conventions or dinners and without any siblings to keep my sanity in check my world felt empty. Even special occasions such as my birthday didn't warrant a cancellation or postponement of my dad's annual ski trip with all the important figureheads he so desperately desires to impress. And for my mom? My dad being away gives her the perfect excuse to take the jet for a private spar weekend with her distasteful country club friends. What I'm trying to say, if you haven't realised yet... is that I've spent most of my life alone. Constantly trying to find different ways to keep my young, fragile mind occupied. Of course, I had the company of Yvonne, the sweet old lady my parents entrusted to watch over me whilst they were away, but her age meant that she spent most her times passed out on the couch, drooling.

I let out a small, sarcastic giggle, standing up and making my way over to my bed. I lay down on my back, resting my hands on my stomach. My eyes traced the outlines of each individual star I'd painted on my ceiling months before. A smile grew on my face at the realisation I had finally come to my decision.

181 days, that's all.