Arising secrets (on hold )

Same old story

Prologue

Some people say " life's an adventure...life's funny... Life's a roller coaster." Personally, I think life's more like a horror movie, or a really sick game. It's full of death, betrayal, and worst of all, hope. Hope is pointless. It makes you blind. Stupid.

My life was full of hope, of stupidity, until that day I learnt the true meaning of life - pure disappointment ...

As I sit here, I remember that morning. The smells in the air. The taste of the food. The voice of loved ones. My birth parents I'd always prayed for. But it Turns out, i was better off without my real parents. They caused all this trouble...

Chapter 1-same old story (saphires pov)

I gaze in my bedroom mirror, sighing as I take in my appearance. I don't know what Mum and Dad were thinking: suggesting modelling . As if. I'm not ugly, no, but I'm nowhere near modelling standards.

My slim face is full of imperfections, reminding me once again of how I'm not unique or beautiful enough for that career. Sure, i don't have any blemishes or spots but what does that matter?

It's my eyes that are the worst. My vivid green eyes are always said to be capturing. Maybe because they looked like emeralds? I can't stand the colour green. My glossy brown hair, the only thing I liked, makes my skin look visibly paler. Too pale. Unfortunately, despite my parents suggestions, I'm no pageant queen. It's just the harsh truth of reality.

Turning away I walk towards my long oak wardrobe, sliding the doors open to choose my outfit. What to wear? Searching throughout my wardrobe I can not for the life of me find anything worth wearing, which -considering the amount of clothing I own- truly shows what kind of day I'm having.

Kneeling, i pick a vibrant ,blue, mid-thigh dress that will go great with my new sandals. Just because I know I'm not the best looking, doesn't mean I can't try; I'm not a complete pessimist. I smile at my reflection; I actually don't look too bad.

" I.will...drive by your house ,and, if ..." My phone blasts one direction out ,making me smile. It is my personal ring tone for Cleo - my best friend. Dancing on my way to pick it up, I gingerly place it between my head and shoulders while I hurry downstairs.

" Hey, girl, ready to meet the most amazing friend alive - 'cause I'm already outside." she states in an accent that she probably acquired from Tennessee on her vacation this break.

" You do realise we technically met 6 years ago, right?" I ask with humour clear in my voice. I met Cleo when I was 11 years old- my first day in secondary school. Despite the fact I was shy- and awkward- we became friends instantly. Since then we've stuck with each other like we're joined by the hip.

" Shut up. You know that's not what I mean," she interrupts my thoughts. I can imagine her sat in her car giving a pointed look at my bedroom windows now. "But seriously. We're going to be late."

"I'm coming. Sheesh!" I mutter, running down the stairs. Trust me when I say you do not want to get my psychotic friend mad. I love her to bits, but not even I want to be around her in one of her 'foul moods'.

As I leave I shout bye to Mum and Dad. I get a "bye" and "love you" in response making me smile in appreciation. I truly love my family.

Walking up to my friend's new convertible, I whistle. It truly is a beauty.

"Porsche?" I wonder aloud; I have never been too good with knowledge of cars names. "When did she get this?" I think to myself. Realisation dawns : she must have got it for her birthday (22nd of April). Trust me to not notice Cleo driving in a new car.