Margo's POV
"It's for the best sweetie." Was the one thing my mom told me for the past three days. I called extreme bullshit, because this was one thing I knew wouldn't help me.
You see, my parents are some extreme business fanatics and they own multiple company's. But with having that much power, you have that much money. And money was one of the only things I knew my family cared far too much about.
My parents seemed to want their kids like they wanted everything else in their fucked up world; to be perfect. Nothing can be faulted, nothing can be any less than ravishing and nothing can be under their high ass standards.
But with my half purple, half black hair, the big gap between my two front teeth, my tattoos that covered most of my body, and my out-of-there fashion, it looked like this was the farthest from their vision of perfection possible, and to say that they hated it, was a grave understatement.
So when my mother would say that it was for the best, I would typically respond with: "The best for me, or the best for you?" and that would cause my mother to tell me how ungrateful I was being, and then leave my room to make some sort of very important business call.
Currently, we were packing the car that my father had rented, (because apparently no one can see him driving his not-so-perfect daughter to boarding school- it would tarnish his ever-growing reputation as a parent) and to say I was angry was a hell of an understatement.
My dad closed the trunk of the rented Mercedes (my mother refused anything less than that) and jumped into the front seat, leaving his door opened, as I was rocking back and forth on my heels, not going in the car. They wouldn't make me. They couldn't make me.
"Margo, get in the car." My dad sighed, placing both hands on the steering wheel. "I have a meeting at one o'clock, and I can't be late. It is a three hour drive from and you are needed to be there by eight am. So we need to make this quick." It was currently four fifty in the morning, and my parents decided to leave now so there was less of a chance of people noticing us. I rolled my eyes. Of course he had a meeting. When he turned around, I just mimicked him.
Annoyed, I embarked in the car, and made it to the back seat. My mom was probably e-mailing someone in the front seat whilst yelling at them through the phone, not paying one ounce of attention to their soon to be leaving daughter. Although it wasn't like it would make a difference in their normal everyday lives- they didn't pay much attention to me anyways.
Of course, it wasn't like I normally got a truck load of amazing attention, either. Sometimes I pondered if maybe they never wanted a child, because if they did, they wouldn't treat one like they treated me.
"Why are you sending me to the one in Pennsylvania, anyways?" I scoffed. "Why not the one here, in Connecticut?"
My father sighed. "You know the reason, Margo. If you're farther away, they have a less chance of finding out where you are." I crossed my arms over my pink dress. How gross was what he just said? It almost made me want to throw up.
"So what are you going to tell them, then? You do realize they'll notice I'm gone, right? Because unlike you guys, they actually care about me." I sneered, taking out my phone from where I always kept it, my bra. I didn't have the time to carry a purse around wherever I went.
"Margo, watch your tone of voice young lady. And we will be telling them that you're staying with your Grandma for a while." He explained, as we headed out on the street. I scoffed at their mere sense of stupidity.
"Both my grandmothers are dead."
"Margo." My mother said, suddenly getting involved in the conversation. "You don't have to be so unappreciative. You're lucky we're sending you to one of the most expensive and well known school's in the country. So count your blessings."
"It's hard to count them when I don't have any." I murmured, placing my headphones in my ear. I had a pretty diverse music taste, and I didn't care what the fuck people thought or said about it. I love bands like twenty one pilots, Blink-182, Green Day, but my music range will also go to the other end of the spectrum and be Taylor Swift, Lana Del Rey, and Marina & The Diamonds. I don't really stick to a specific genre- if I like it, then I'll listen to it, and there is no way in hell that you'd be able to stop me. The song Stressed Out by twenty one pilots erupted in my ears, and I instantly calmed down. Tyler Joseph was one of the greatest and most emotional singer that I ever heard, and the beat of Josh Dun on the drums help my breathing.
Inside, I was fuming at both my parents, but I didn't need to give them another reason to send me to a fucking psychiatric ward instead of the boarding school that they were driving me to, so I kept my mouth shut, which was proven to be hard. Really hard.
After a long and boring ass car ride, I finally arrived to the school I'd be spending my next year at. It was clearly expensive, like my mother had stated, and I was able to tell just by looking at the exterior building. It was tall, with beige stones. The steps were made out of some sort of metal, and the windows were tinted a dark colour so that people wouldn't be able to see the inside.
On the door, there was a sign hung, which read; Welcome to Pennsylvania's behavior correctional facility and school! Registration is in the main lobby!
I got out of the car, and opened the trunk and took out my three suitcases, not bothering to communicate with any of my two parents. They were both clearly in a rush, and not wanting to be here.
"Do you need help, Margo?" My father asked as he was typing something on his phone. I scoffed and shook my head.
"I don't need help from you. You can leave now so that you won't be late to your stupid meeting." I sneered, giving him the most fake smile I was able to make. My father just sighed.
"Alright. I'll see you on visiting day." He waved. My mom didn't even come out of the car, nor did any one of them say that they loved me.
But I didn't care anymore,
Because they were dead to me.
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HEY GUYS YO SUP
Melanie Martinez will be Margo! Picture of what she looks like right now is above.
I hoped you liked this chapter :) I promise my writing gets better because this wasn't good !!
