The Fallen

Revenge

Present

I stared down my reflection in the mirror. There was a battle of self esteem going on; right between the reflective glass and my blue eyes. Eventually I lost the battle and looked away- my face burning a crimson red that matched my hair color. I had already changed clothes a million times, and there was nothing to be done to fix my makeup. I looked like a child playing dress up. I tugged on my thigh high stockings, and pulled them up to the bottom of my black tutu skirt. No, I was not trying to look like a slut. I was just trying to match the "punk rock" persona that everyone thought I had. Let me introduce you to my most enthralling past. Then you can understand my horrible choice in clothing.

Once upon a time I lived in a happy, classic American family of four. My dad sold insurence, my mother was a realtor, I had a perfect older brother, and I was a good little girl. Life was suberban bliss. We lived in a house that was an exact replica of all the other houses on the street. I never caused trouble, and we were all happy, and clueless to the hardship of life. Then the times started changing. My dad's work stopped providing us with as much money. My mother became unhappy with him, and I found her one day with her tongue stuck down some strange man's throat. Of course I told my father. Of course they decided to get divorced. That is when suberban bliss went away.

Life is no longer a fairytale. Life sucks. I have to live with my mother. I have to live with that whore, who does not understand the word fidelity. I mean, for christ's sake, she did it because of money. She was unhappy because of a green piece of paper. How pathetic is that? You could say that I hate my mother. She ruined our lives. We had such good, such perfect lives. We could have been the stars of a reality television show, our lives were so good. But she just HAD to wrap her legs around some stranger. Bitch.

I know what you are thinking- "If she is the one who cheated, why are you living with that whore?". Well, it's simple. My dad doesn't have enough money to actually buy a house. His apartment is so small that my brother, Michael, and I can't even spend the night there. So I get to live with 'mother dearest' in our old house. All it is is a shell of my past life. A constant reminder that life is no fairytale, and that you can't trust anyone to be loyal. Not anymore, not in this time. There will always be at least one person to ruin everything. Think I'm wrong? Do you think you have a perfect life? Well you just wait, I'm sure there is at least one person just waiting to jump in and tear your happiness to shreads.

I try my best not to see my mother, and when I do see her I try my best to piss her off. That is why I am so 'hardcore'. No realtor wants to bring home a customer to a house that holds an angsty teenager. I decided to be her worst nightmare. Sure, it is childish. But so is merging tongues with a man other than your husband. So If I'm honest, I dont even like dressing like this. Sure, I am a little alternative, but not enough to enjoy giant combat boots and black tutus.

I sighed at myself in the mirror.

"You're the one who chose to do this, idiot. Man up.", I spoke quietly to myself in the mirror. I let out a shuddering breath, and turned away from my reflection. "If you can't see it, it's not there..." I muttered. I picked up my leather satchel, and walked to my brother's room. He was currently reading a magazine while icing his leg.

"What did you do this time, hurt your leg while touching the big burly football players?", I said with a cocky grin.

"Technically, yes. I won't tell you the details though, I don't want you to get too worked up and steamy" he spat back, matching my sarcasm.

I let out a small chuckle. "Well, I'm going out. Don't wait up for me to eat dinner" I said quickly, and blew him a kiss.

"Make sure you leave a note for mom" he said as I started to walk away.

I walked slowly back to his doorway and looked at him with an expression of shock. "You really think I would forget? I'm hurt, Micheal. Don't think me so irresponsible". He just scoffed at me as I walked away.

I grabbed an apple on my way out, and slammed the door behind me. I saw my boyfriend, Chris, waiting for me in his car. It was a piece of rust on wheels, but It was still better than what I had- which was nothing.

I yanked the door open and slid into the passenger seat, giving him a smile. He grabbed my face forcefully and stuck his tongue in my mouth. That description is not meant to sound romantic, because it isn't. I feel bad saying it, but I am really only dating him because it pisses off my mom. Would you like it if your little girl started dating a boy with more piercings than brains?

He continued to suck my face off while I just kind of sat there. Eventually he pulled away and gave me a grin.

"Hey Babe"

"Hi Chris", I replied with a tired smile. I turned away from him to look out the window at my neighbor. Her name was Evelyn. She was an eighty year old woman who was completely senile. She was currently trying to water the fake plant we gave her when her husband passed away. It was one of the saddest things I have ever seen- I made a small note to visit her sometime.

Chris grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him.

"Remember what I told you about tonight?", he said in a very serious tone.

"Don't talk with other bands, I know" I repeated in a monotonous tone.

"Good girl", he spoke happily. He pulled out of my driveway, and we headed to the concert. Chris was in a band, so he considered himself some kind of hot shot. He didn't want me to talk to other band members, he just wanted me to stand there by him and look 'hot'. God knows what would happen if I actually opened my mouth to do anything other than kiss him. Asshole.

Oh, and I never wrote that note.