Framed

Chapter One

The pain was cache deep in her eyes. A fake smile hid away the misery that hung over her like a dark shadow, day after day. The depression was almost too unbearable. The death of her mother was dreadful, but the death of her father? Well, she wished she had left the world as he did, but she knew, unfortunately, that would not be the case... Her mother passed away from a rare cancer when she was three. A year later, her father remarried. He married a witch. A nefarious, yet heartless witch who loved only the man she wedded. She despised children, which made the feeling of being unloved haunt the girl ever more. It hung over her shoulders, whispered words into her ears, and beckoned her to believe them. Soon enough, she did. She longed to be free of it all, but how? How could she? There was only one solution, but she lacked the guts to fulfill suicide. So... she lived each day, dreading tomorrow and--

"Hey, Tiff, you okay?" Damien asked, nudging her shoulder with his elbow. Tiff slammed her journal shut and smiled at Damien with one of her stupendous yet fake smiles. It was said that a true smile was only seen when there were dimples. That may be true for anyone else but she, because as I said... she mastered the fake smile.

"Yeah, I am great."

"Cool. So, are you going to eat that?" Damien pointed to the cup of grapes on her tray. Tiff looked down at her tray, full of food.

I'm not that hungry. I guess I can skip lunch again today, she thought.

"Uh no, help yourself." She pushed the tray across the cafeteria table towards Damien, who beamed at her, his blue eyes twinkling as he began to eat his now second tray of food. Tiff had not eaten lunch for over a week, though most of the time; she was never really hungry enough to eat at all. She glanced back at the tray to find half of the food gone and watched as Damien shoveled spoonful after spoonful of what was once her food. Once again, he was more than happy to eat it for her.

Damien must be famished, she watched him wash down the meal with whole milk and belch. I wish I could eat like that and gain absolutely nothing.

She envied her friend at this point, knowing he could not gain half a point later. Damien Vanderford was eighteen and five foot eleven. His barley-brown hair paired nicely with his sapphires-blue eyes and coal-black gauges. He usually wore black, red, or blue, which all brought out the brightness of his eyes.

Tiff pulled out a book from her backpack, The Chronicle of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis. She admired the author's imagination and felt Narnia helped her get away from reality, which, to be completely honest, was a living nightmare. When her world was dark and eerie or completely out of whack, she opened up a book and her mind was instantly soothed. Her imagination was her greatest escape during times of chaos. It was never truly clear to Tiff whether her imagination was to be her friend or foe.

Maybe.. She would never know.

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The bell signaled the end of school. Tiff sling her backpack over her shoulder and headed for her bus. She climbed into bus 373 and made a beeline for the very back, avoiding eye contacts with anyone and everyone. She hated the thought of others staring at her. It made her guts clenched with fear.
She sat down at the farthest bench in the back of the bus, placed earbuds into her ears and welcomed the soothing music.

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An hour later, they came to Tiff's stop; she was the last one on the bus. The bus lurched to a stop in front of an old house with a flowery garden in front.. well, technically, it was going to be a flowery garden whenever Tiff got around to potting the plants.

She walked down the driveway and went into the house.

"Tiffani Frewin, you've got some explaining to do," her step-mom, Melinda said with arms crossed over her chest. Tiffani rolled her eyes.

Not again, she thought to herself. This woman takes zero responsibility for herself and her actions. Sure, blame it on the step-kid who never did one thing wrong and welcomed you with open arms when deep down inside, she wanted only her biological mom.

"Well, what is it this time?" Tiffani asked sourly.

"You- "started Melinda.

"Well, duh," The teenager threw her hands up with exaggeration. "It's always something I did."

"Shut your mouth and let me speak, you worthless piece of junk."

Is that the best you got? Like, my goodness, you should've never missed the chance to shut up.

"You'd best take off that dandelion-patterned dress 'cuz it's mine and you know it. Change out of it now."

"No, it's mine and I bought it just last week," replied Tiffani firmly.

"Remember what I told ya about this house? Everything in it is mine."

"Well, pay me the twenty dollars I paid for the dress and it's all yours."

"Hand it over, child."

"No, Melinda, it's my dress." The step-mother smacked her across the face, hard enough to make her stumble and fall.

"That'll teach you, savage, not to call me that!" retorted Melinda as she left the room, forgetting the dress. Tiff forced herself onto her feet and went outside to get some very much needed fresh air.

Tiffani stooped over a flower-bed and picked up a few golden daffodils to pot. She planted them into smaller pot along with some fertilizer and water. A smile crossed her face as she admired her handiwork. In just a few weeks, she will bring life back into the garden. Bringing the flower close to her, she inhaled its gentle aroma it had to offer her.

Light and greeny, yet sweet and pleasant.

She stood up, brushed the dirt off of her knees, and looked up, noticing a young, handsome man on the sidewalk, who stopped and seemed to have been watching her for sometimes.

I have seen him somewhere before, but where?

The moment she made eye contact with him, he took off top-speed down the road.

School, of course. He's one of the Rich Class Seniors, I think...

"Hey wait!" Tiff called to him, but he didn't even look back or let up on his speed. In fact, Tiff could have sworn her words only made him run faster.

Rude.

Guys are so weird sometimes.