Started With A Disaster

1: How to Lose Your Mansion

So hey, Wattpaders, I know, I know, it's definitely not a good idea to write another book while I'm yet to complete one that I was writing, but I just couldn't help it!

Right now, I'm in Nepal, in case you didn't know, Nepal is a South-Asian country where there has been a huge earthquake of 7.9 rector-scale and there's has been a great loss of lives and properties.

I'm here for volunteering and as I was giving out food and mineral water to these small, malnourished children who stared at me strangely, the idea for this book struck my brain and I just couldn't stop thinking about it for days!

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So here it is.

Dun, dun, da, dun! Drumrolls!

STARTED WITH A DISASTER

Chapter 1: How to lose your mansion

I was born and raised in Brooklyn by my parents who were always busy with their work. Although they rarely made time for Erika and me, they used to call once in a while to check on us. And when I say once in a while, I really mean, once in a while. It used to be a subject of celebration if they had phoned us twice in a week. It was always just Erika and me. Of course, as every sister's story goes, one of us was an extreme extrovert and other the opposite. Erika was the former one.

When our parents were out of town-which was almost every month, she never failed to throw these extravagant alcoholic parties. She was only a year older than me, but from her acts, it was as if she was a mere five-year old kid. Erika got what she wanted; no one argued with her, no one dared to cross her. In high school, she was on top of the social ladder. Even though she was eighteen, and a legal adult, of course, she never got over the fact that her very first boyfriend had cheated on her-she was always trying to make him jealous, sleeping around, smoking weed, clubbing. It was always me who had to throw out tattooed and pierced guys out of the house. I barely saw her sober-except when Mom and Dad were in the house, then I would barely even see her around. Of course my parents had their own up and down. Christmas was one of the few times when they'd be home. One of those times, they had argued so much that I nearly thought that Mom was going to stomp Dad with the Christmas tree that Erika and I had so lovingly decorated. And I don't mean hitting him with a piece of decoration, but I mean the whole 'pick it from the trunk and stomp him out as flat as the carpet'. Remembering those times, Erika had once said that Dad was so lucky that trees are so damn heavy.

Maybe it was because of Erika that I had this strange sense of protectiveness for the things I loved. I never let her out of the house without her cell phone and emergency credit card. I always made sure that there were enough Advil and diet coke in the house, so when she needed anything, she'd get it even in worse conditions. I don't know if Erika was ever grateful for my chores-if she was, I never heard a single sincere word from her. I was always busy working on my assignments, getting extra credits, being the good girl. It's almost funny seeing that now we are the exact copies of each other, of how we were back then. Seeing her doing her home works on time still makes me cringe.

It's funny how people do a one-eighty degree turn just because life didn't go as they'd planned.

Which brings us to December 30, last year. Known as 'The Day of the Earthquake'.

My whole family was in Canberra-something about joining a Film Festival and enjoying the 'art in animation' as my Mother put it. My sister only went because she got to be with Mom and Dad. She didn't give a rat's ass about the films; all she wanted was to spend some quality time with our parents since she would be going to college next year. This was good news, only the con was that I couldn't go because of school.