When It Starts

Chapter 1 Part 2

I sit up and my heart slams in my chest like a rock and roll beat. I punch my alarm and it goes silent but falls to the floor. I sit up and try to ease my breaking heart. Every night it's the same dream. Or, for better terms, memory. I slide my feet from beneath my warm blankets and settle them against the cold floor. I stand up in a choppy movement, like a robot. I bend down and touch my toes. I grab my alarm and slowly stand back up. Four forty-two. I sigh and set it on my bedside table. Another day, starting the same way. I open the wood door and wince as it creaks open. I tip-toe towards the bathroom across the hall.

I turn on the hot water and rid myself of the same pajamas i've been wearing since Friday. It's not like I don't have any other clothes. I just don't feel like changing into them. I let the water pour on my face. I close my eyes and I'm back inside my memory. The water falling turns into the footsteps. I snap back into reality. I stumble backward and lean against the wall. I steady my breathing and get out. I spray the shampoo and conditioner in my hair and decide that'll be fine. I creep back to my room. I switch on the lights and grab my robe. I check the time. Five A.M. My aunt's alarm should go off in fifteen minutes. I open my closet and take a step inside. The left wall has shoes for every occasion in every color. I pick my black sandels and move over to my jeans. I decide on a pair of dark blue flare outs, and a sweatshirt. I quickly change, tossing my robe in the hamper. Sure enough, I shut the light off just in time to hear my aunts alarm shriek to life. It stops abruptly and a moment later there is a knock on my door. She doesn't wait for a response. She never gets one. I move over to my makeup table and sit down. Ignoring her. I see her staring at me through my mirror. Her dark auburn hair hangs loose by her face in waves. Her gray eyes smile at me though her mouth doesn't move. She is young, but is starting to have worry lines crease her face. She shuts the door and I pick up the foundation brush but stop myself. I put it back in its designated place besides my liner, and shadows. I never use any of it.
I brush through my tangled hair in the mirror. My dirty blond hair lays limply on my shoulders. The bags under my eyes are quite distinguishable and my eyes look dead. Empty. Gone. I slam my hair brush down, furious with myself. I can't control what I was born looking like, but I can control gazing upon myself. It only makes the hatred grow stronger. I look at my shapeless body, hidden beneath the baggy clothes and I don't care. I grab my phone and put in my earbuds. I haul my book bag onto my shoulders and walk downstairs. Aunt Casey is making breakfast. "Want anything?" She asks. I open the door and walk out without replaying.  The fresh air hits me and takes my breath away. I collect myself and continue walking. It's nearly silent as the sun begins to rise. I hit play and music fills my mind.