𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐫

prologue

library pictures - arctic monkeys

mars 

Mars hated her life. It was intolerable. No, she didn't hate her life. She simply hated the things that happened to her. For example, the weeping girl clinging to her arm and begging Mars not to leave.

"Please," she sobbed, "I need you!" Mars stifled a groan.

"No, you need my money. They're different things, darling. Now get off my arm, or I will punch you," she said sweetly, and the sniffling girl finally receded, her eyes bloodshot. Mars cleared her throat, swiping at her sleeve and her hand where the girl had touched her. Great. Now she'd need to take another shower.

Leaving the girl on the sidewalk to find her way back to campus, Mars aimlessly wandered the streets, her direction set for anywhere but her flat on Cornelia Street or her parents home. Of course, her feet had an idea of their own, and she had ended up at her parents house without even realising it. Mars scowled. How awful. She spun on her heel, prepared to leave and go back to campus, but a shrill, irritating voice called out.

Her mother.

The scowl only deepened when she grabbed Mars' arm, leading her inside.

"Mother," she gritted out, sighing deeply as she gazed upon the frightful sight that was her mother.

"Mars, honestly! You should have knocked instead of loitering around. It's been a month since your last visit, and we've been worried sick about you! Do you know how worried we've been? Harold, we have been worried, haven't we?" She trilled, and Mars rolled her eyes.

"Yes, mother, you've been very, very worried; I can tell by the two new surgeries that you have undergone," replied Mars, and her mother became only more enraged.

"That's it!" she screamed. "Up to your room now!" Mars was happy to oblige, and she walked by her clueless, half-deaf father as she trudged up the stairs. She'd get some food from the kitchen and then sneak out as soon as she could.

Her room was a dusty array of torn photographs and discarded papers. The scent of jasmine wafted in the air. Mars inhaled deeply, immediately coughing from the hordes of dust that entered her system. She looked around the room. It was almost pristine if it weren't for the dust. Her large bed remained perfectly made, her belongings scattered on her oak desk, and her bass guitar leant against a stand, the amp right next to it.

"Worried, my ass," she muttered as she wiped a coating of dust off of her manuscript. During the last few months, Mars had been living in her small loft apartment on Cornelia Street, paying no mind to the frenzied incoming calls from her mother. It was a simplistic life, and she enjoyed it.

The walls of her old room were built with the confines of innocence and fear—fear of her parents and fear of the world. That was a whole different person, and the woman that Mars was now was fierce, and she would fight her way through life. She flicked a book open, the pages turning and sticking to each other. Mars could remember sitting in the corner she haunted, cross-legged underneath the dim light, listening to her parents say, 'Oh, what a sad sight.' Mars coughed. Why had she come here again? She frowned. Why had she left? She shook her head. Her memory was not clear—a foggy cloud of disorientation.

Right. She had left because her parents constantly undermined and insulted her worth. She pushed her hair back. It was a coppery brown colour, cut into choppy layers that somehow framed her face in a decent way. She pushed the window open, wriggling through the gap and climbing onto the roof, her Doc Martens steadily gripping the tin roof. The roof wasn't slippery at all as Mars sat down, pulling out a pack of cigarettes that she had bought ages ago from her pocket.