A Bitch's Perspective

ONE

Heyyyy guys!
©
   This is my first book on wattpad EVER and so I'm just sooooo happy that I actually published it. *squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee*
Oh... lest I forget, you have no fucking rights whatsoever, to copy any part of this book...NOT A SINGLE PART!
   So vote, comment and share all you can on this book ...😁
I'll appreciate each and everyone's help and I actually need an editor coz   I like to edit along the way so you can actually tell me if you are interested in the comments section or just simply on my profile.
  I just want to tell you all that my updates would not be regular. I go to a boarding school and so only have time during the holidays to update. I also wouldn't see your comments till I'm on holiday (unless I sneak into the ICT lab in school and log unto wattpad)... which BTW, I can easily get caught.

  I hope you absolutely LOVE this book!

xoxo
-minnie_pop
😆

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Ivory's POV

The graveyard was eerily silent that was except for the wind blowing the tall ash trees that cast a dull shadow on the graveyard. It was enough to run a chill down your spine and stand the hairs on your back.

I pushed open the gate slowly. It was nothing
fancy, just a rusting white low fence with curved railings.

I closed the gate and walked in. Shrubs lined down the sides of the concrete pathway made it look like I was entering a garden. Then I was aware that the only other sound was that of my yellow wellies crushing the dead leaves on the concrete.

Gradually the graveyard came into view and I started to see the tombstones rise and white tiles line the grave of dead people. I walked down a seventh row on the left and kept on.

I knew my way around the graveyard so well. It was one of the places I would go to and feel at peace with myself. It was a place I would go and pretend nothing else mattered in the world.

I would feel like I was the only other person living. I felt certain I could go through it in a fog.

Then I got to a grave, the tombstone was marked,

ELETTRA PHOEBE FANUCCI 
1973-2017
RIP

She was my mother. She had been gone for seven months.

I brought the bunch of poppy flowers in my hand to my nose as I gave it one last sniff before dropping it on her grave.

As I touched the tombstone with my fingertips, I felt a little spark. It was like memories were there waiting for that simple touch and they passes through my fingers, flowing in my blood till they connected with my brain.

It all came with a rush. How could I have been so stupid is what I still couldn't understand. I mean the signs and symptoms? They were all there. Or maybe I was too foolish to care that there were changes in my mother? Or maybe I just loved her too much to accept that she was dying?

I really couldn't tell what the stupid thing was that blinded me from noticing something so obvious and prominent.

As I squatted next to the grave, another wave of memories connected with my brain. I should have known before she told me she had ovarian cancer. I had known only one thing then, cancer equals death. With her sunken eyes and the sudden stares she gave me during dinner, I should still have known.

She'd started buying so many hair extensions and acting so affectionate towards me. I had stupidly thought the hair extensions was another of her 'fancy' trends and the affection - that really annoyed and disgusted me the most.

Few months before she died, she'd go to Italy twice every month claiming to go see grandpa and grandma. I hadn't cared much coz I had the social scale in school to worry about, not like it matters to me now.

My mum's death had been a shock for everybody. It had affected me the most. Considering the fact that I was still not used to getting up in the morning with the sound of my alarm clock (she usually dragged me out of bed!) and coming downstairs to the kitchen with no delectable aroma teasing my nostrils.

The first week after her death, I had walked around the house like a zombie. I had felt like the center in which my world revolved around had been tampered with. I was brain dead.

I got up and brushed the knees of my jeans. Giving my mother's grave one last look, I turned to make my way out of the graveyard.

*-*-*-*-*

Philipia picked up the screaming boy from his cot and rubbed him on his back so she could shush him. She then laid him back so she could continue cooking in the kitchen. As soon as the little boy felt his head on the cot mattress, he began an even piercing scream making it clear he didn't want to sleep.

Tired, Philipia sighed and took him to the kitchen with her. The slight brush  of fur on her legs made her look down at her fat tabby cat.

"Not now Tiboo" she said adjusting she boy on her hip.

  The fat cat purred and went to the worktop. He sat beside his bowl of treats and started licking his paws.

Phil placed Benito in his high chair and poured some treats on a platter for Tiboo.

"Get down" she ordered.

The fat cat lazily hopped unto the high stool and jumped down. He went to his platter and started eating.

Phil took one last look an Benito who was busy playing with his feeding bottle and turned back to the burner where she was sautéring potatoes and bacon.

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Um... so how was that chapter?!?! I feel fucking great that you guys had the patience and time to read it. I just REALLY REALLY hope you'd have that same patience and time to read the remaining chapters that are coming...

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