You're Not Safe

Chapter One-Araba

June 8, 2012

Dear Diary,

Today, I'm so exhausted and drained (spiritually, physically and emotionally). But I still have the energy to give you seven reasons why I wish my parents never gave birth to me. Don't take this the wrong way, I am a happy teenager with an awesome best friend. It's just I wish I was raised by her sweet mom instead of those two monsters. Gershon and Ama. Those are their names. I've searched for ways to make myself look different from them. I live in L.A. and plastic surgery is damn expensive.

I searched for skin products to use so I could at least bleach my skin to look more like my best friend and her mother. I know it doesn't work that way but, hey, can't blame a gal for trying. I remember one time my best friend forced me to go to church with her. Which was so weird, because she and church do not agree with each other. But I got to find out she went because the pastor (some hot guy) wanted hook-up sex. That day, I remember praying to God to take Gershon and Ama out of this world. I know what I did was terrible, but I was desperate. I didn't feel any remorse.

Anyway, seven reasons. One, my best friend and her mom are the only two people I'll ever care about. I love them so much and I'll die for them. Two, they're both so perfect. Like, literally, perfect in every way. I'm starting to believe they might be goddesses in human form. Their beautiful blonde hair. Their confidence. Stunning! Three, I love my best friend so much. Four, Gershon and Ama hate my best friend. Five, I hate Gershon and Ama. Six, I'll never forgive them for what they did. And Seven, I am ashamed and disgusted by them. The only good thing they're doing right now is paying my college fees. But don't worry, I have the perfect plan to expose those criminals. The world will know what they did to me. Especially that hideous monster that's so-called "my uncle".
   I'll talk about him in my next post.

Peace Out.

                                    ***

"Are you nodding off again?"

The voice jerked me awake before I realized my finger was still on the 'T' letter on my laptop keyboard. I deleted the multiple Ts I accidentally pressed before saving the chapter and shutting off the computer.

"I guess so," I replied, letting out a yawn.

"No no no no, young lady. We are going out." Getting out of the bathroom, Emma modelled toward me in the most fashionable way, holding a white tank top in one hand and a white silky mini dress on a coat hanger. "Which one will it be? Casual or work?"

I furrowed my brows at her. "You want to go out in this freezing late night wearing those? Do you want to die?"

Emma rolled her eyes. "No, simpleton. For work tomorrow."

I felt my eyebrows pull up. "You're......you're not kidding, are you?"

"I never kid when it comes to picking the right attire, Rabi. I treat my clothes the same way I treat men. If I don't like it, I choose another one to use for the day."

I let out a giggle. "Dude, I forget how poetic you are sometimes." When I paused to reflect on how hectic the day had been, I sensed Emma's casual smirk fade. With no words, she put down her clothes and sat next to me. "Who's been bugging you?" Emma asked. Just like that, this girl could pick up all of my emotions. Sometimes I didn't need to express my feelings with words. Acting them out through body gestures and facial expressions alone was enough to let Emma tell me exactly how I felt. The freaky thing is, she never even studied psychology; even now that we're freshmen in UCLA. Imagine if she actually studied to be a psychologist. Even better. A criminal psychologist. She'd be a superstar.