Hold onto Me [RE-WRITING/EDITING]

Chapter One -Dani

My jaw clenches as I fight back a sob, hot tears stream down my cheeks like raindrops on a stormy window. I wrap my arms tighter around myself. I feel sick-nauseous-the pit of my stomach sinks deeper, my chest grows heavy with unsaid words.

Why? Why me?

I gasp for air and roughly wipe the tears away. Not wanting to spiral deeper into despair.

There's no time for self pity. Everything is going to be okay. Everything is okay. You're okay. Clean yourself up.

I get up from the floor and take a few deep breathes while wiping away a few loose tears. With shaky hands, I smooth down my hair.

I'm okay.

I look in the mirror of my white vanity: my hair is a mess, my eyes glassy, and my cheeks bright red. Climbing into bed I glance at the small clock; 2:45am. I feel drained, my head pounding like a ticking time bomb.

You're okay. You're okay. Everything is okay. You'll be loved someday, just not now. Wait. Patience.

I press my lips together and take out my phone. No messages. No notifications. It's late, what was I expecting? I open the book app and start to read a romance novel I've started.

'His hands wrap around her waist, pulling her closer to him. His eyes softened and his lips quirk up slightly, taking in her beautiful hazel eyes and rosey cheeks-'
Will someone ever look at me that way? Will I ever be someone's priority?

My alarm gleams 5:34am. Eyes heavy, I turn off my phone, place it in the drawer and fall asleep.

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My door burst open, jolting me awake, my father knocks loudly, shouting; "it's 2pm! Get out of bed! Look at you, moping around like it's a hotel."

I nod, slip on my slippers, and rub my eyes. He stomps down the hall, probably to the living room. I sigh, tapping my face to check if it's still puffy, thankfully not. He's right, since break started weeks ago all I've been doing is lazing around my room, only going to the bathroom or the fridge for a quick bite.

My little sister giggles as she approaches my doorway "your door will be split in half if you keep this up. You're disturbing the whole house and making dad mad with these antics of yours. Grow up-I'm literally younger than you." She taps my door with her long manicure fingers.

"Oh shut up Cynthia." I groan "it's summer break. It shouldn't matter what time I wake up."

She rolls her eyes and leaves, tossing her long dyed-brown hair over her shoulder. I grab a t-shirt, loose jeans, and my towel before heading to the bathroom. After my long hot shower, I head to the kitchen where my mom is cleaning up after lunch. The lingering smell of chicken and spices makes me nauseous.

Did I eat yesterday? I feel light headed. Is it because I took a hot shower on an empty stomach?

I take a cup, drop a vitamin C tablet and fill it with ice and water. As the tablet fizzles, I inhale the light smell of oranges, waiting until the fizzle subsides before chugging it down.

Should I take a few pain relievers? My body aches and I feel a headache creeping in. I should get some fresh air today...

"You need to eat real food for vitamins. You can't just survive off those tablets." My mom says, gesturing to my now empty cup "and are you going to college or not? Some of your acceptance letters came in and they all accepted you."

I stare at her, polished and perfect. Her once kind eyes-that resemble my own- now narrow in suspicion, dyed-brown hair in loose curls, and a floral dress. She looks every bit of a perfect house wife and it makes me cringe.

"Are you or not?" She furrows her brows.

"No."

"And why not?" She crosses her arms.

She must be furious that her trophy daughter wants to come off the shelf. Too bad Cynthia is just a pretty face.

"I'll work."

I just want to leave. Get a part time job at an office and live on my own. Away from this place I can't even call home.

"If you don't know what you want to be then be a doctor, or lawyer, or even a pharmacist. What will everyone say? From a top student to a part time worker?" She huffs, throwing the towel onto the counter, obviously more concerned about others opinions then the well being of her own child.

But her words weigh me down, once again; a constant reminder that she doesn't see me as her daughter. It's as if I'm merely a reflection of her expectations, her past dreams, not someone with my own ambitions and struggles. Will she ever recognize me as her daughter? No matter how hard I try to meet her standards or stay polished and perfect like her, I'll never be enough.

I'm so tired. I need to leave. She won't stop pestering me if I stay any longer. Maybe I should go to college just to live in a dorm. If I do, what should I major in? Do I even have a goal in life?

I sigh and rinse my cup "I'm going out. Do you need anything?"

She scoffs. "Dish soap."

I nod and head to the back door, grabbing the spare keys from the hook and slip on my shoes. I glance outside before speed walking through the back gate.

As I walk through the neighbourhood, I pass my high school, the memories still vivid.

It's not like you ever got to do anything anyways. No parties. No boyfriends. No drama. Not even prom. You're just another boring girl who'll end up like her mother: cook breakfast, clean, cook lunch, clean, read a book or garden, cook dinner, clean, maybe watch tv. Will there be a boring man who will accept you for that? Maybe the nursery home.

I chuckle bitterly and make my way to the super market. I grab the dish soap and a random ice cream cone, hoping a sweet treat is what I need. I head towards the park, after unwrapping the ice cream, I plug in headphones and continue the trail. Tall green trees line the path, their leaves filtering the sunlight into pretty dancing pattern on the gravel trail.

The sun hangs high in the sky, mocking me like one of those cartoon suns with a smug smile and oversized sunglasses. I wish it would rain; I miss the cool raindrops kissing my skin and the gloomy colors it casts over the world. But what I miss most is the aftermath-the vibrant colors and freshness that follows, as if reminding me that there's brightness even after a gloomy day.

Maybe it's time to change my routine—go for a swim or look for a part-time job to fill my days. So far, I've only done service hours for school, and the thought of a real job feels stressful yet exciting. Maybe I'll make friends there too...

I regret not saying yes to that boy who asked me to prom; maybe I could have had a boyfriend by my side, laughing and sharing these moments instead of walking alone. Each missed opportunity weighs heavily on my mind, a reminder of the experiences I let slip through my fingers out of fear of never being enough and the anxiety of being abandoned again.