"Oh my God, Sapphire Mist'ery, would you pay attention please?" said my annoying math teacher. By the way, yes, that's me. Sapphire Mist'ery. I'm nineteen years old with knee-length red hair and green eyes. I live in Brixton, as do many highly educated individuals.
"Sorry, Madam. I got lost thinking about running through the rain with my dream boyfriend," I said dreamily. The teacher cleared her throat and continued with the class.
The rest of the day went like that, me yearning for the Swiss Alps and sleeping on piles of hay, or laying down in a field full of flowers. I didn't have many friends, because not many people related to me. That's okay. If they want to fill their lives with TikTok trends and alcohol, they may do that. But I've never been like that.
I've just been...
Different.
I got on the bus and put in my earphones, listening to Lana Del Ray's unreleased song from 2008. After an hour, I got home. I took a deep breath and dreaded what was to come. I straightened my oversized Nirvana T-Shirt and put my choppy hair in a ponytail, and opened the door.
"Where have you been? The dishes have been piling up all day! Your brother wants to invite his friends over later. Hurry up!" My father yelled at me. I nodded silently and made my way to the kitchen, before I suddenly fell. My petite 5"1 frame crashed onto the ground. Beside me, I saw my brother snickering, and he called me a dumbass. I pushed back the tears from my forest green eyes. The sink was indeed full of dishes, and I got to work on them.
Three hours into my labour, the doorbell rang. My brother rushed over to it, thinking it was his friends. But when he opened it, two tall men in black suits and mirrored sunglasses entered our home.
"Dad?" my brother yelled.
My father came trudging into the room with an empty beer bottle in his hand.
"Ah, Mr. Riles, are you here for the cargo?" he asked.
"Yes, sir. Here are your five hundred thousand pounds. We'd like it now, please," the darker coloured man said.
I couldn't believe it. Was my father engaging in illegal activities? Drugs, perhaps? I was appalled. Since when were there drugs in our fair little village Brixton?
"Come over here, Sapphire," my father said. I raised an eyebrow dreamily and walked over to them.
"We've come to collect you, as I'm sure your father has told you. You may say your goodbyes now," the light skinned one said.
"Huh?" I asked.
"Laters, loser," my brother said before shutting the door on me.
"What the hell?" I asked. The men took me by the arms and started dragging me to their Maserati.
"Let go of me, you fucking plebs!" I yelled.
"Sorry babes, you've been sold to Harry Styles," he said.
"Who?"
