When A Player Gets Rejected

Chapter 1.

C h a p t e r    O n e.  

      "You sure have a lot of things!" the middle-age taxi driver muttered, glancing down at my three Louis Vuitton suitcases. I snorted a very un-ladylike snort. This wasn't even half of my things. Most my belongings had been shipped over here last week in new house, which I wasn't too happy about. Nevertheless, I didn't utter a word against it apart from the little spat I had with the parents on the first day they had mentioned it to me.

      The taxi driver seemed friendly enough with a warm smile on his face which showed his wrinkles, however I was still very cautious of him. You never knew what type of monster a person really was until they hurt you- and I learnt that the hard way.

      "Yeah, well I've just moved here so. . ." I shrugged as the taxi-driver nodded in understanding. So far people seemed friendly over here, and some people at the airport even seem. . .fascinated by my accent. I got a lot of attention at the airport, which I wasn't too content with, but I wouldn't let it faze me. Well, I tried not to let it faze me anyways.

      "That's great! You'll love it here!" he grinned, displaying a set of crooked and yellow teeth. I tried not to grimace because I didn't want to come across as a bitch- wait, since when did I care about what others thought of me?

      "Yeah, I'm sure," I muttered sarcastically before helping him load my suitcases into the taxi. I was sure that I wasn't going to have a fun time here anymore since I'd changed a lot over the last few months.

      Once we reached the town, I was quite surprised that my parents would sent me somewhere like this since it was literally in the middle of nowhere. There weren't that many shops around here and most of the girls dressed really casually. I didn't even think they knew a place like this even existed to be honest.

      I had been to America before- New York to be specific, on a shopping trip with my mother because she wanted me to look the better than everyone else at Prince William's wedding. I was only an accessory for her to show off to others- like a brand new Chanel bag. I thought since my Mother had offered to spent a day with me, it would be quality time however, all she did was check her emails over her phone or check over her business files. I don't think we even spoke more than ten words throughout the whole journey and shopping trip.

      The large, two-story house stood in front of me with flowers planted in the front in the front garden. It seemed modern and nice I guess. Of course my parents wanted to show that I was living a luxurious house surrounded by other similar large houses. It seemed a little big for a single person, however my parents did everything to the extreme level. After all, they did want to show off their money and status.

      Stepping across the threshold of my new home, the strong scent of a new carpet wafted through, hitting me hard in the face. I hate this smell. Looking around, it didn't seem too bad; the walls were bare and it did feel like a show room. It felt empty. It felt cold. It felt like a house instead of a home. Well, I was going to have to change that then.

      Fortunately for me, my parents had already gotten their manager to ship over my two cars, which were presents from them for missing my sixteenth, and seventeenth birthday three months ago. Luckily for me, this meant that I could go shopping and buy some paint. Ever since I was younger, I've always wanted a crazy and colourful home with a piece of art everywhere, however, my parents like completely different things: classy with ornate designs, which meant that that wasn't possible.  Seriously, my parents' house back in Mayfair was like the Queen's house in the 30s or something.

      Though the walls were white and bare, there were so many things I could with them. I was living here now and I refused to live in what seemed like a prison cell. I was going to have to suck it up that my parents were ashamed of me and they didn't want me anymore and continue living my life because I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of crying over it. I wasn't strong- I knew that much- but I was going to have to fake it until I make it.