Realities Vengeance

Chapter 1: The Beginning

The waves lapped up the side of the beach and they left new gifts of seaweed each time. The ocean had always reminded me of a caged beast who tirelessly sought to escape the depths, but was never strong enough. I watched as a big wave broke, came all the way to my feet, and touched the tip of my toes just enough to make them wet. The water fell back into the ocean, and there was a breath of silence before the next wave broke. The ocean was mesmerizing and I found it even more beautiful while watching the sun set. Tonight's sunset was exquisite with its unique hints of pink tucked in between the yellow and orange colors. I pulled my legs to my chest and rested my chin on my knees as the sun tucked under the water for the night. I felt someone walking up behind me, "It sure is a pretty one tonight."  I instantly recognized the voice as my oldest step brother, Reid. I didn't even turn around to him, "It is a lot better than being stuck in a stuffy party", I said.  He let out a small chuckle, "You got that right", he said, and took a seat next to me. Reid had dark hair that was never done properly and he had greenish blue eyes that changed along with the time of the day. He was an extremely charming person, and someone very few could resist liking. "Mom is going to be mad that you ditched my going away party." he said, and I rolled me eyes, "Yeah, well, I was there for most of it. I just can't stand being in crowds, and especially crowds that all know me and all have something to say to me." I said. He gave me a knowing laugh, "I know how you feel, Esme." he said, and I knew he did. He stood up and held out a hand to help me up, and I took it. I looked down at the simple green dress that my mother had forced me to wear. It was covered in sand and damp from the salty humid air. My hair had fallen out of its elegant up-do, and my shoes were lost among the rocks along the coast line.  My mother would be furious.

Reid started up the stairs that led to the modern house my mother and step father owned right on the ocean. I loved that it was right on the beach, but I wished it had more character and charm. To me it looked like a blank slate where any type of family could live. It had no story.  I saw the people mingling and sipping their champagne as they talked about politics and meaningless gossip. I walked up the stairs from the beach and slunk past the big glass window. Reid watched me, apparently very amused by the scene. I walked over to a pole that I always climbed up to get to my room. I got a good hand grip and hoisted myself up. "Wow, that is talent right there." Reid said when I got to the top, and I suppressed a smile as I did a mock bow then walked into my room. I shut the sliding door and I instantly missed the salty beach air. I walked into the bathroom and caught my reflection in the mirror. My jet black hair was a total mess on my head, and my freakish green eyes were tired from the day's activities. When I was younger, I used to be bullied about my abnormal eyes, and I hated them with every fiber of my being. I eventually learned to embraced the unique quality, along with odd looks and whispers I got every time I walked by people. I slipped off the sandy green dress and got into the shower. I did my best to get my tangled mess of hair under control, but I didn't have much luck. When I got out of the shower I changed into pajamas, and then I spotted the suit case I had taken out earlier this morning. I stared at the suitcase and I groaned internally at what it meant. Every time I got out my little red suitcase it symbolized a trip to my father's mansion in France. I was forced to go to his huge home every summer break, and spend quality time with him. It was always freezing and horribly isolated up in the mountains. My father owns a booming technology business, and when I go to visit him I only ever see him at meals; if I am lucky. I have to leave a warm summer home, right on the beach, to stay up in the freezing mountain were I never see anyone I know, and never enjoy myself. 

I threw all of the warm clothes that I could possibly find into the suitcase, along with a few other things I always have to have with me wherever I go. I wear my favorite ring everywhere I go, and I don't remember the last time I had to take it off. The ring was given to me by my parents when I was young. It was a simple silver band with the words, forever loved, engraved into it. The ring means more to me than anything, and it has become a part of me. It is the one reminder I have left that my parents used to be together and in love, and things used to be perfect.

I finished packing and zipped up the suitcase. I let out a sigh. I fiddled with my ring as I tried to think of anything that I might be forgetting. I suddenly heard a small knock on my door, and my mother walks in with a small smile. She glances at the packed suitcase and her eyes seem to age several years. "Right, Your leaving." she said, and I looked over at the horrible red suitcase and blamed it for my troubles. "You can tell dad no." I said in a weak voice knowing she wouldn't even think of doing something like that. "Esme, this is important to your father. I want you to stay with me always, but you need to stay in touch with your father too." she said, and I looked down angrily at the floor. "He doesn't want anything to do with me, he wouldn't know the difference if I were there or not." I said, and a memory seemed to pass through her head, and she grimaced at the floor. "He would know the difference." was all she said as she turned to leave the room. "Oh, and don't for one minute think I'm not upset about you skipping the party. We will talk about that tomorrow." she said, and she left the room. Nyjar Lively was an amazing mother. She was one of the most experienced and knowledgeable people I knew. She knew how to sew, walk down a red carpet, paint, dance, cook, garden, and she always knew what to say.  She was elegant and when she walks into a room everyone can't help but watch her. I looked a lot like her, but our personalities couldn't have been more different. She was tall and had an expert sense of style. She was sometimes hard to try and live up to, but I was thankful to have such an amazing role model.

When I laid my head on the pillow I was instantly sucked into a fitful sleep. My dreams were always filled with extravagant adventure, and pretend circumstances. It was the one place where I could create my own world, and escape my own reality. It was my safe place. I had told my mother about some of my more strange dreams; the dreams where I later wonder how I imagined it in the first place. She had gotten a very strange look on her face, and told me to tell her if I had any more of these strange dreams. Of course I stopped telling her about them, even though I continued to have them every night. I decided that it really didn't matter anyways, and put it behind me.