Confessions of a Bitch

I See You xoxo

The rest of the day is quiet. Dad is even more adamant we have to move. I think he's bonkers. I love living here. On the other hand, I don't have to worry about some paedophile watching me from his house as I drive to school or walk down the street because he's dead. And even better, my media assignment is basically nonexistent. After all, our main subject has been terminated. 

Victoria calls to see how I'm going, but I can hear a tremor in her voice. Something is off. Maybe it's something to do with the black car we spotted yesterday. I tell her not to worry about it. It could have been the pedo's car for all I care. Victoria doesn't seem too sure. It's something to do with her African instincts. The girl sometimes worries me. 

Hotpants on the other hand, wants to carry on with the project. If I could reach out into the phone and hit him, I would. I'd also twist his balls and yank them, before twisting his disco stick as well, and then turn him into an eunuch. 

I have a thing for turning men into eunuchs. 

To my utmost horror, Mr Gold agrees. I takes all myself will not to grab one of his big textbooks to slam on his skull and cause brain damage. He says, "You're in year twelve now. Fix your problems. I still want an assignment handed in, in a month's time so chop chop." I take my anger out on that chick that laughed at me in class. A punch to the nose sent her sprawling on the floor and bumping her head. 

I guess she'll not be making it to the ball. 

Plastic whore. 

 *****************

Victoria isn't at school today. I think it's to do with Old Man Black's murder. She doesn't even send a text. I'm pissed. I rarely get pissed at Victoria. Not to mention my day has been crappy because I've spent my time trying to avoid Alyssa. I can't stand quiet people who follow me everywhere like a shadow. 

And she glares at me like she wants to kill me all the time.  

To make my day even better, my friends have arrived. By that I mean it's that time of the month. Sorry boys. I hate having my period. That's why mum said to think of them as friends. I think of them as dead unfertilised babies that come out of my system. 

Mum hasn't left the house since the little incident with Old Man Black. Turns out he was stabbed seventy times before having is light saber cut off and bleeding to death. 

Ouch. 

I even find dad sitting with mum on the couch looking through the paper for new homes. I almost die when he mentions he likes the free house in Palmerson street. Hotpants lives on Palmerson street. I gag on my pasta. I want to die. 

Saturday comes along and my parents excitedly drag me to some expensive shop filled with dresses. I'm actually quite surprised when dad begins picking out expensive dresses that are quite pretty. For a moment I feel proud. My dad has a great sense of style. Then I want to vomit. I hate dresses. 

 *************************

As I'm shuffled around the shop like a trolley, I realise I may have made one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I have thirty dresses to try on, and yes I counted them. They're covered in lace, sequins, beads and all sorts of crap that I can't name. To make matters worse, mum and dad have a clashing sense of style. Dad loves endless glamour. Mum's more edgy and modern. She even goes as far to say that I look like a forty year old woman in the dress dad chose. 

I love it how she brings down my self esteem. 

After getting in and out of thirty dresses, getting scratched by the itchy fabric and embellishments, nearly drowning under the weight of sequin dresses and mum and dad insulting each other, I finally pick a baby blue forties dress with a slit at the side. Dad says I look lovely. Mum is not impressed. 

Ah well. Life's too short to please everyone. 

As we are about leaving the shop, my phone vibrates. I take it from my pocket thinking its Victoria messaging me. My brows furrow when I see it's a blocked number. Who would that be? 

It can't be Hotpants. His name is classified as dick head on my phone.  

I open the message. My heart lurches in my stomach when I see the text.  

I see you.  

xoxo. 

Viper  

Attached to the message is a photo of my parents and I having dinner at home. Another text message arrives. I click on it with shaking fingers.  

Are you scared of me? You should be.  

Also attached to the text is a photo of me looking at my phone.  

You should be scared.