What Is My Life?!

~1~

   Melanie Carrington-Conners was a working class, socially-awkward twenty-three year old girl with shoulder length auburn hair and eyes the colour of glaciers. She had a dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose and cheek bones that contrasted against pale skin that very rarely ever seemed to tan. She wasn't tall, but she wasn't short, so she considered herself lucky for being an average hight and not inheriting her family's confusing hight differences. Her mother, who she thanked the heavens for giving her, stood at four foot three, whereas her father, who drove himself to work hard for the family, stood at a staggering six foot five. So, Melanie thanked her body for her average height of five foot five, but then again, everything about Melanie was average. She was a part-time University student at the University of Westminster and studied Fine Arts and Psychology, both of which she was excelling exceedingly at.  She saw herself as a very plain person who fell into the rush of Central London, there wasn't anything far out or special about her, and she was planning on keeping it that way until she could finish University.  

   Her apartment was a low rent share-hold that she shared with two other students, both of which kept themselves to themselves. She'd been living with them for almost a year, yet she knew next to nothing about either of them. She had made a habit of eating when they were out, and stayed in her comfortable bedroom when they were in, that was, unless she had to go out somewhere. Then she would have to face the ordeal or opening her bedroom door, calmly walk to the front door, slip on her shoes and all but climb into her coat before getting out onto the streets. Being socially-awkward meant that Meanie had difficulty talking to anybody who had a pulse, not that she liked talking to dead people, that was just weird, and coming from someone like her, that meant something. When faced with the task of talking to somebody, or even interacting with another human-being, her body froze, her heart sped up to a pace that was probably far from healthy and she mumbled incoherent words that no one ever seemed to understand. She was like a small, innocent deer caught in an oncoming car's headlights. Scared and panicked. 

   Apart from her studies, Melanie took frequent trips to her local library, which was big and easy to get lost in. She could go hours without being disturbed by anyone else and she liked the quiet atmosphere that the library offered her. She was addicted to books, any type of book, she could sit and finish a novel in two days if she really put her mind to it, and that was usually the case. Melanie was a serious procrastinator and it was becoming a harmful habit, she was getting so caught up in the few hobbies that she had, that she would scramble around over a night to finish off loose essays and presentations that were due in the next day. Another of her unhealthy habits was that the redhead liked food, she was a petite girl, and she was one of those people that just never put on weight. She could eat an entire restaurant clean and she'd still be the size ten that she started out with. She enjoyed a night in, watching her favourite films with a take-out or a home made meal, depending on what mood she was in. Usually she cooked, and she made a pretty fine cook if she didn't say so herself. Then she would retire to a good night's rest that mainly consisted on cocooning herself inside her thick, winter duvet and scrolling through her Facebook and Tumblr news feed.

   It was late when her phone rang, its insistent, deafening tone blaring from beneath her pillow and straight into her ear. She shot up like a bullet, a shock induced panic flooded her body and forced her into a state that had her grasping beneath the pillow to abruptly turn of the maddening ring. Her thumb pressed the stop option and she let out a sigh of relief, her muscles loosening and relaxing back into her bed as she lay back down. She'd completely forgot that she'd set her alarm so that she could beat the crowd and do a small bit of shopping. When she looked at her clock, and saw that it was 7:30 am, she let out an animal-like growl before burrowing her face back into the cloud-like pillow she'd had since she'd moved into the apartment. It was impossible for her to get out of bed so early, and when she replayed her last thought of the night, she couldn't believe she'd talked herself into setting such a disgraceful ring tone to wake herself up with. It was the most shrill, ear-shattering sound she'd heard since high school, and she was definitely set on never hearing it again. Running a hand over her face, she sat up and let out another exasperated sigh of displeasure, swinging her legs out to find the rough, carpeted floor beneath. 

   Melanie could already see that she was not going enjoy this day, the sky outside was a bleak and miserable shade of grey, but that was just a typical cold day in London. The weather was either burning hot or icy cold, and today, Mother Nature had decided she'd inflict a breath of morning frost across the city. An involuntary shudder ran through her body and she had to hug her duvet closer to her body and carry it with her as she made her way to her wardrobe, pulling out a dressing gown. She discarded the duvet, giving it one last, mournful look before wrapping herself in her not-so-warm dressing gown. She cracked open her door, easing the wood out of the frame as she pressed her ear to listen for any signs of movement out in the sitting area or kitchen. Thankfully, all was dead and quiet, and Melanie could creep out to the kitchen and pour herself a bowl of the distasteful cereal. Across the hall, mere feet away from her was the door to the kitchen, so she braved up and tip-toed passed the two doors that held the privacy of the other two residents in the shared apartment. Soft snoring came from both rooms, so she assured herself she could walk normally to get her daily dose of prison food. 

   The kitchen was cold, due to the lack of heating, and Melanie had to rush to the thermostat and spin the dial up until she was satisfied that soon there would be a tidal wave of warmth throughout the apartment. From the thermostat, she counted a few steps until she was finally opening the sleek black cupboard that was home to the bowls and mugs. Each resident had an assigned space in the cupboard, not that the space was a great thing, as Melanie could just about fit three bowls and two mugs into her part. She quietly pulled out a ceramic bowl and placed it down onto the matching, black work top, trying to her best ability to stop the ceramic from making an impact sound when it made contact with the worktop. With a small clunk, the bowl sat proudly on the side and Melanie could move on to getting a box of cereal for herself. Like the cupboard she'd retrieved her bowl from, the pantry was divided into three, and she found that if she rationed herself, she could get a lot of necessary foods into her pathetic storage space. Sadly, those rations included a box of supermarket branded shredded wheat, and as she pulled the carton board box from the shelf, she gave it a look that was the equivalent to physically ripping the box to pieces. 

   By the time Melanie had finished forcing the imposter of a cereal into her mouth, the clock on the cringe worthy, green wall opposite her read 8:15 am. She rolled her eyes and stood, cleaning up after herself so that it looked like she hadn't even set foot in the kitchen. The redhead left the kitchen behind as she padded back down the hallway to her sanctuary known as her bedroom, shutting the door behind her before she opened her wardrobe door and rummaged around for the most decent clothes she owned, which in her case was a pair of dark blue skinny jeans, a black vest and a black hoodie that was two sizes too big for her. She looked at her appearance in the mirror and shrugged at herself, this was as pretty as she was getting. She opened a side-draw and pulled out a tube of mascara and used just about the smallest amount that she could before picking up her neatly placed glasses and adjusted them on the bridge of her nose. Another quick look in the mirror, and a mumbled encouragement were the last things Melanie had time to do before rushing to the front door. 

   On went the converse high tops, then came the frantic search for her bag that she so carelessly threw every time she walked through the front door. When she found it, beside the couch in the living area, she ragged it from its resting place on the floor, checking that she had her keys, purse, Oyster card and compact mirror. She unlocked her phone, checked the news and placed it in the safest part of her large bag and finally made for the front door. Melanie pulled on the handle and opened the aged door before shutting it behind her quietly, with little to no sound as she braved the storm of pedestrians in the streets of London. She was lucky to have just missed being carried out into the sea of people as she began walking in the complete opposite direction to everyone else, everyone seemed to be heading towards the Tube or the bus depot, but Melanie only needed to walk a few blocks to her local supermarket, and she didn't need much anyway. What was going to be a quick run to the shop had turned into a nightmare of tangled limbs and ignorant passers by bumping into each other with no apologies. Life: 1 Melanie: 0.