Damaged Diamond.

Chapter 1

Life is an imperfection on so many things.
It’s strange how a childhood nickname can stick with you forever but not in the best way unfortunately for me, my nickname is shorted from my actual name.
Belly...
The worst nickname a person could have, so now you know my nickname can you guess my name?
Easy I know something Belle or Bella... Which one? Well...... My name is Annabelle, why is my nickname Belly? Well as my mum would say you had the cutest little belly when you were a baby, and it just stuck.
Thanks Mom.
More like let’s find a name that will scar and humiliate you for all your life and be the biggest insecurity you have as you get older.
My mother thinks it’s ridiculous to hate such a name that was given when I was just a baby. Yet she just doesn’t seem to understand the fact that highlighting the biggest issue with my body and causes actual mental health issues as you get to a more knowledgeable age of how you should and shouldn’t look. Social media and the local mean girls always help you to learn you should look this certain way and if you don’t you are the odd one out.
The more I try to point this out the more it causes an argument, and she would say... ‘what’s the harm? You used to love it when I would call you Belly and sing a little song, I made up for you. You’re so dramatic Belly. ‘
I sign as I know what’s coming next, she starts to sing, my cheeks heat with embarrassment. Honestly why can’t I just have a simple life and for her understanding of why I hate it and therefore her to stop calling me it. The thought is ridiculous as she will never stop or be willing to understand my torment.
Belly, Belly where are you?
Belly, Belly there you are.
Where’s your belly?
There’s it is.
*Grabs my stomach and starts to tickle it*
Tickle, tickle your belly.
Giggle, giggle from your belly.

She then starts giggling like a schoolgirl.
Dad groans and I stand there like I’ve been shot, or should I say wishing I’d been shot. This is the worst thing ever.... Actually no, her doing that in public is the worst thing... I thank my lucky stars she hasn’t done it so far.

‘See, Belly isn’t it a lovely song?’ she gleams.
‘No, because I’m not a baby anymore. I’m 17 years old’ I say through gritted teeth.
I know that’s harsh as yes, it’s a lovely song but I’m right. It’s a lovely song for a baby and that’s not me. I’m 17 years old and I go off to college after the end of this term and the summer break. I see her face turn from mischievously happy to pure anger.
‘Belly, your so rude. How dare you?!’ she screams.
And yet again with that god damn name, this conversation was pointless time and time again it would always end with me rolling my eyes and leaving the room.
Dad would always say the same thing to mum, not to start an argument to try and prevent one. And as soon as I think it he says it out loud as if he took the thoughts straight from my head.
‘Just call her Annabelle for goodness' sake, I’m sick of hearing this same argument. She doesn’t like it and you keep calling her it. I don’t understand why you have to do this.’
Mum would then cry and say the same reply just like she is now. This argument happens every few days when I get so sick and tired of the same thing. Just call me by my given name. I didn’t realise it was so hard to do. Why would you call your child a nickname or pet name when you chose the name they have. I roll my eyes as my mind comes back to the here and now to hear what she has to say.
‘I’ve always called her it and I won’t stop why should I have to? She is my daughter, my baby girl just as much as she is yours and she used to love it.’
Dad would snarl back ‘Used to.’
By then I would be at the top of the stairs going into my room as this conversation is so pointless as in a few days it will be like someone has rewind my life and play it back to me. This is where I would be wishing for a new life, a new name, a new nickname and a new body.

And then of course the golden child would walk in and be mothers Knight in shining armour to “save the day”.
Carlos says, ‘You know, you are selfish and so self-centred.’
My reply ‘And why is that?’
He says back ‘You know mum is sensitive and you know your nickname is a remind for her of when you were a baby. What’s the issue? She still calls me Car!’
At this point I’m getting annoyed with him as he never sees anything but the burden of mum crying because she turns to him every time Dad tells her the truth. So, I grit my teeth and say ‘And that’s because you were obsession with cars, and you still are for Christ sakes and it's not exactly embarrassing for you, is it?!’
‘You’re such a drama queen for God's sake. Not mums fault that you kept that fat gut of yours and won’t do anything to change it.’ He snides and then walks away laughing.
Under my breathe a call him a stupid prick and begin to cry, and not the silent cry, a full heart wrenching cry.



Its late at night and I’ve not left my room since I came here after the argument with mum.
A little knock on the door makes me jump for my life.
It’s my dad, I know this by the strong authority coming from his knock. Mums in a timid tap, Carlos’s is always the same pounding like he wants to smash the door down.
He opens the door, peeks in and gives him his most heart dazzling smile. Yes, I’m a Daddy’s girl and that’s because he is gentle and kind, he is the peacemaker and that’s what he is here to do. Never on anyone’s side just the middle man. He understands both sides and he loves us both dearly, he knows it’s irritating but mum is sweet and gentle and doesn’t realise the harm it causes me due to the fact I’d never tell her. I’d hate her to feel bad even though she technically should. My insecurities are my own fault as I shouldn’t care but I can’t stop my thoughts.
He walks further into the room and sits in the edge of my bed. I pounce into his welcoming arms and cry, cry like the world is ending. He just holds me while I cry gently stroking my hair to soothe me.
‘Don’t let a nickname control your life my angel’ he says softly.
‘I can’t take it anymore; I already hate myself. The name just makes me hate myself more.’
He stares at me like I’ve grown two heads, but his state is murderous. One look my dad has never given me.
‘How dare you! You shouldn’t hate yourself at all. You are beautiful, you are strong, and you are my daughter and you are my world.’
The tears fall silently down my cheeks. I knew dad would be like this and it is a bittersweet moment and he always sees the best in me and I will always see the worst of myself. I rub the back of my hand over my eyes.
‘You always see the best in me dad. And I will always see the worse in me. No one wants a girl who is curvy. I’m fat and we all know it you’re just being nice because you have to.’
‘No. Not at all. You are beautiful. And any man would be lucky for you to give them the time of day let alone share their life with you.’
He is the cutest but honestly nothing he says will make me feel better. So, I use the biggest cop out to just get him to leave.
‘Thank you, Dad but I’m really tired. I’m going to go to sleep.’ I smile weakly at him.
He gets up off the bed and smiles down at me. Pecks my forehead with a sweet kiss and leaves.
‘Goodnight my beautiful angel.’ He calls.
I give him a small smile.
‘Goodnight Dad.’
After he leaves, I toss and I turn for what feels like the whole night when in actual fact it's only been an hour. But then slowly my eyes start to droop and a fall to sleep hoping the next day will be much better than the last.