Well This Fucking Sucks

Chapter 2

I open the front door softly as I enter my home, I gently close it behind me. I rush uo the stairs on my toes, careful to not get caught by my dad. It's not until I reach the door to my room, that I can breathe comfortably.

I throw my keys onto my desk as I enter my room. I scratch my head and walk to my bathroom. I strip out of my cheer uniform and gently step out of it.

I look in the mirror. The figure reflected was small, had a flat chest, semi visible abs, and pale skin. I turn away, disgusted by the boy in the mirror.

I take a quick shower and go inside my room. I put on some short pj bottoms and a tank top. I look down at my flat chest, tempted to put on a fake boob padded bra. Just to make myself feel more feminine.

I take my bag and books over to my bed and begin to do my homework.

After a few minutes, a knock at the door stops me from writing.

"Who is it?" I ask.

The door slowly opened to reveal Manyara, the small Creole woman who has taken care of me and my family since I was born. She wore a yellow sundress that made her skin seem darker than it originally was. Her long sister locks were tied in a loose bun at the top of her head. Her face was aged and sagged with wrinkles. Her eyes were chestnut brown and full of kindness.

"Hi baby," she asked quietly, her creole accent soft.

I nod at her. She comes in and sits next to me on the bed, wrapping her small arm around me.

"How was school?" She asked.

"Good. I'm going to Homecoming with Braedan." I smile.

"That boy who you've been hanging out with a lot?" I nod in response.

"That's good honey. Do you have a dress picked out?"

"No. But I plan to get one soon." I put my arm around her and give her a squeeze.

"Okay cher. I came to tell you dinner is almost done. Go wash up and be down in five." She rubs my back before she stands up and leaves.

The moment the door shut, I stood up and went back into the bathroom to wash my hands.

I look back into the mirror. The masculine face stared back at me. My insides turn in disgust. People always said I looked like my mother, but I never see it.

My mother was pure and radiant with natural beauty. Smooth pale skin, round face decorated with freckles on her cheeks, thick red lips, eyes that looked more blue than the ocean itself and silky soft auburn hair. She was absolutely perfect.

It's a tragedy that her beauty couldn't have blessed upon us longer.

I wish that I could be like her. Based on what I have heard, my mother was a kind soul and was very affectionate to the people around her. There was probably no one who hated her. Everyone loved my mom. She was a natural leader. and would defend everything she cared about.

I grab my make-up bag on the side of the counter.

I put on my cover up, blush, and natural colored eye shadow. I look back into the mirror. I feel as if there was still things missing. I put on some lip gloss and let my hair flow down my shoulders.

I look back at myself. I looked a little like my mother. I smile and try to imitate the pictures of my mom on the wall.

"Richard!" A voice boomed from down stairs. I fumble with the lip gloss stick in my hand.

"Get down here! Now!" The manly voice yelled full of anger and frustration. My heart pounds in fear. He can't see me like this.

I grab a face towel and scrub my face. Face still soaked, I run to my room and put on some basketball shorts and a sweatshirt.