The Truth About Nora Jones

In Ann-Marie's head

*Ann-Marie's pov*

Shoving students out of my way, I step back through the hallways and unlock my locker.

Stupid Nora, stupid Christmas show! I mumble to myself, grabbing my pink fake fur coat

Putting it on, my thoughts wander elsewhere. Attaching my coat, I slip on my pink earmuffs, glancing at the passing students now and then.

I feel embarrassed, for some kind of unknown reason, but I have no idea why. Bad thoughts running through my head, I can't help but be overwhelmed.

Spreading some bright red lipstick, I head outside, trying to survive the coldness. I always hated Canada for that reason. I used to live in the US when I was younger, but then I relocated back to Canada at the age of seven. And you know what? I never got used to that freezing weather there!

But I must admit the landscapes are gorgeous. Right now, in Toronto, everyone is outside. Those kids with North Face coats, wearing grey beanies...Those adults, covered perfectly yet maybe too much, complaining about how they look like Michelin characters. Finally, elder people are struggling to survive the cold, but staying for the good of their grandchildren's happiness.

A lot of people in school told me I was heartless. That I didn't care about others. I never agreed, but my comportment says otherwise...

What hurts the most is that all that good that I'm trying to achieve gets worse afterwards. I am trying to protect my family and friends, maybe not in a clever way, but at least I'm trying.

Everybody always saw a bad side to it. It's like they didn't want to admit I tried something. I sort of feel sorry with the way I'm treating Nora, but my heart tells me it's just for my brother.

Stuffing my mittens in my coat pockets, I head inside my house. It is a classical grey residence, in a friendly neighborhood. The neighbors always thought we were so welcoming and peaceful, but that's not the case.

My father is working as a CEO in a rich company, and he never really has time for us, his children. He never pays attention to us, but he'll manage to hurt us if we disappoint him.

My mother is a good woman, but not a good mother. She married my father, which comes with all his personality, and she had no choice but to follow along. She yaps at us if we come home later and won't hesitate to embarrass us for her better reputation.

Yes, that's my family. Describing my siblings isn't worth the case, they're all like me. Bet you didn't expect the bitchy girl having a bad family, huh? Well that's how it is.

Taking a deep breath, I finally open the door.

Hello, father, hello, mother. I welcome them with a neutral voice, undressing myself

They would look at me with a stoic expression, not showing any kind of affection or compassion.

Did you do all your Homeworks, daughter? My father asks me, replacing his black glasses over the bridge of his nose

Yes, I did. I respond to him politely, getting up in the stairs

Trying to walk slowly and in a respectful way, I'm hiding back my sorrows. My regrets. All my pain that I've been hiding through all those years. I think I'm running out of room.

Watch where you're going, Ann-Marie! Warns me my little sister

Fuck you Mallory! You don't need to care about me, since nobody does!

I climb up the stairs with anger, not caring about respect and polite attention anymore. I hear my mother yelling:

Come back here you filthy little rat, excuse yourself properly in front of your sister! She snorts, but I ignore her

I can't handle her. I can't handle all that. I can't just consider the idea of going out because they'd discover it. Even if I did, they'd catch me in a glimpse of time and hurt me more than they ever did to me in the past.

Orphanage? No way I'm getting in those shitty places, plus I have friends in school!

Children Help Phone? I don't want adults to tell me how to behave when they can't relate at all!

A therapist? That's the way to maniac and psycho people, which I'm not part of! Well, I wish some don't consider me like that!

Shrugging off the idea, I burst into my room crying, slamming the door before me. The idea of screaming "I hate you!" comes to my mind, but I know that wouldn't be appropriate.

I hate my mother. I hate my father. I hate my sister. I hate my brother!

And, most of all, I hate Nora! I've had to fake revenge for my brother Conrad when I never actually cared about him! Neither did I with any of my family members anyways!

I was stuck with it, since I'm the oldest child...

Still sobbing lightly, I pull out my diary reluctantly:

"Dear Diary,

I'm angry. 100% angry and 100% broken.

I don't know what to do. I know you can't help me.

Haha, I know it just feels ridiculous talking to a paper. I can't help myself. I'm broken.

I've broken hearts. Loads. Just because of my family. Even if I had the liberty to stop, I was too afraid of my consequence that I kept on acting the same.

But I never liked it. I feel and always felt like I'm faking myself. I used to be so joyful and easy to be around.

Stephany says she saw the sparkle in me turn off with the years, that sparkle of youth and... just the way you are so naive, during those years.

I've never thought I'd say that in my life. Neither write.

I hate myself.

But that's how the world formed me. My bad thought would say I have nothing I can do about it, since it's not my fault.

But I can try."