I sit staring at the wall, I see new things on it everyday. Take today for example, I see a young woman, straining to give birth.
She accomplishes though, and a girl is born! But, there's a problem, the woman is losing consciousness. The father rushes to her while the nurses take the baby away.
"Open your eyes. Carry your baby!" The father pushes, but she's giving up. "Name her Amel-" Her voice fades away, her eyes close, permanently. The father cries, his tears fall on her face.
But this isn't a fairytale, she doesn't wake up. Another nurse comes in again while the doctors take her away.
The nurse is holding her baby. The father sweeps the girl into his hands, looking at the girl's dark eyes and small lips.
"You look like your mom." He whispers, and she coos at him, her little hands trying to reach his face.
He laughs, more tears falling, the baby winces as they touch her face, and the father hears voices from outside.
People, crying, presumably because of the recent death. He walks out, and an elderly woman falls at his feet.
"This devil killed her! This devil killed my daughter!" She weeps. The baby moves around, uncomfortable with all the noise of crying.
"She didn't do anything!" The father pulls the baby close to him, in protectiveness. The woman gets up.
"I will name her." She states, the father, afraid to disappoint her, agrees, but adds something.
"Her mother wanted to name her Amel-" The woman raises a hand. "Who knows better? Me, You, or my dead daughter?"
His head dips down in acceptance, and she stares in disgust at the baby.
"Tavora." She states calmly, and turns around. The fathers head raises, "You cannot name her that, it means-"
"Misfortune. I know, isn't it correct?" Her lips curve. He shakes his head, "But her mother-"
"Princess!" I snap out of it, the scene on the wall disappears. I look and my Dad stands at the door.
"Time for school, Princess." I nod, dazed.
Stumbling to get up, I pull on jeans and a hoodie, pulling it out of the 'dirty clothes' basket. I don't have the patience to change, and I sigh.
About to pull my hair into a bun, I examine myself in the mirror.
My hair is naturally curly, but because of not washing it for weeks, it's frizzy instead. My eyes carry dark bags under them, and my lips are chapped.
There are stains on my clothes, maybe vomit, or blood.
To sum it up, I look miserable. And when I go to college today, my friends would all be looking like run-way models. I sigh again.
I sigh a lot at myself, mainly because I disgust myself. Then, I turn and push books into my bag, I see no point in learning, I'm sure I'll die before I finish college.
My Dad calls me again. "Princess, please come fast, I'll be late."
"Coming Dad!" I croak, my voice hoarse from screaming and crying.
Princess, I know why my Dad calls me that, he hates calling me Tavora.
Because, 1. It reminds him of my mom. 2. He hates its meaning.
But I personally like the name, it truly defines me, misfortune. I often think I shouldn't have been born, my mom would be alive, I wouldn't be such a bitch, lot of good reasons.
I sprint down the stairs, putting on the fakest smile for my Dad.
He smiles, his smile is real.
"Ready to go?" He asks, I nod, blinking a few times to focus on everything.
Getting into the car, I switch the radio on, and skip until a depressing song plays, at which my Dad stares at me for a few seconds.
Sitting back, I close my eyes and think of what I saw on the wall.
The father shakes his head, "But her mother-" The woman whips around, "I DON'T CARE WHAT HER MOTHER SAID!" Everyone stares, and the father cowers, not being a brave person.
"Her mother is dead because of her! She was supposed to be here! Holding her child, but thi- this brat killed her!"
Brat, the word stuck all the while the girl grew up.
The scene switched to when the girl broke a vase in the house.
"Dad! Dad! Grandma's hitting me!" The father sprints down the stairs, running into the kitchen.
"Ma what are you doing?!" He asks, pulling the crying child to himself, she scoffs.
"This brat broke my favorite and most expensive vase!" He rolls his eyes, eyes filled with hatred.
"So you hit her!?" He demands, by now the child's aunt comes down, her husband by her side, her baby bump showing.
"Someone had to discipline her!" She raises her voice, and he scoffs too.
"I know how to raise my child, I don't want anyone's help, especially from you." He says.
The woman looks at the child with disgust. "Look at how you're tearing us all apart!" She exclaims.
The father sighs. "I'm leaving this house, I have a good job, and I'm moving away from here. We'll visit every holiday. Goodbye."
He was true to his word.
YOU ARE READING
Born to Die
Mystery / Thriller"Catch me Dad!" The girl exclaims, jumping off the plank and in to the pool. He pretends to catch her and laughs as she dives beautifully. "Catch me, Dad." The woman begs, jumping off a building and on to the road. He sprints but misses, and sobs as...
