It wasn't supposed to be like this. With my back pinned against the wall and my hands above my head, tears spilling from my eyes as he took me over the edge once again.
" You're a mystery, Sarah." I sob out, my breasts bouncing from each of his thr...
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The Freytag's pyramid consists of seven key steps in a book; exposition, inciting incident, rising action, climax, falling action, resolution, and denouement. In simpler terms, there is always a beginning, middle and end to a story.
My life although, which would perfectly classify as a fucked-up story has been in the middle stage for as long as I can remember. And sometimes, I wonder if my story will even get an ending unless it's me killing myself.
I have thought about that, quite a number of times in-fact. What's stopping me?
Revenge.
When my mother gave birth to me, she said she knew at first glance that I was going to be different.
And she was right.
I had an older brother, I'm not sure if he is dead or alive anymore but I hope it's the latter. My older brother, Hendrix, was every mother's nightmare. Always screaming, crying and misbehaving as a child, that was my brother.
And I couldn't have been more different from him. Mama named me Amira for my elegant and quiet behaviour. I acted like a princess, she told me. Sometimes, she even joked around saying how when she gave birth to me, the nurse's were concerned because I wasn't crying like normal babies would do.
I was sensitive, an emotional person by heart. One of my greatest values was my sympathy and mama admired that about me. She said that with or without my families wealth, I would always remain a princess by heart which is why she named me Amira, my name literally meaning princess.
No one has called me by my name for a long while though, it's the measurements I had to take to ensure my identity remained a secret.
But all those values and traits got burned a long time ago. Now, I felt nothing. I could look someone eye to eye as I glided a knife across their throat, and I wouldn't feel a thing.
In life, I never got things the easy way. So I learnt how to make a living for myself, how to survive in this cruel world.
I'm reminded of reality again when I hear Carmen squeal for my name. It sounded as a faint whisper to my ears but it was enough to wake me up from my thoughts and place the polaroid of my mother back onto my dressing table. I smile softly at my mother's beauty and rub my thumb over her smile, wishing I could see it once more with my eyes.
I miss her.
" Oh my fuck, I'm so ready to get back home." Carmen says, flopping onto her desk chair beside mine as she takes her fake eyelashes off.
Beauty is a powerful thing. With beauty and confidence, you can have anyone wrapped around your finger and they wouldn't even know it. Too bad every man I have ever seen or met are after the fake tits and their own abnormal beauty standards. I would be embarrassed to be a man, the only good thing god has ever done me is create me as a women.
