Candy

Where Did I Go Wrong?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••Hi! I'm glad you made it through the less than flattering description. Everything that occurs in this book is completely true! Which is cool and obviously cool enough to write a story about. Anyway, hope you enjoy it!-🍬
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••I heard the incessant beeping of my alarm clock as I lay awake in my bed. I ignored the mechanical sound, allowing the strangely soothing consistency to lull me to sleep. Just as I was drifting into a light sleep of hopes of happy days to come in this new school, my door creaked open.

Now, if I was a more rational person, I would've thought "someone must be waking me up since it's 7:30", but, in my defense, I hadn't slept all day, I'm a paranoid person, and I was only 12. So in my irrational morning mind, I thought something else was happening. The mysterious creak immediately jolted me into a panic, I jumped up and dove under my bed. My heart was pounding in my head and the adrenaline was coursing through my veins. I heard foot steps on the hard dark wood floors and a familiar sigh.
"Get up, Candy. I'm not a serial killer."
I awkwardly clawed my way out to be greeted by my brother, already dressed and ready for his first day of junior year. And to most it may seem strange he knew where I was and why I was there, but, believe it or not, this was a fairly common occurrence. With sleepy tears blurring my vision, I stumbled into the kitchen. I don't know why, it's not like I was actually going to eat anything. Habit I guess. Kind of a half habit, since I never actually followed through with my original mission. My mother whipped around hopefully, with a big fake morning smile, and asked if I wanted pancakes. I shook my head lazily and went into the bathroom. I could tell she was disappointed. My mom, that is. She always worried that I don't get enough calories. Getting enough calories for her standards I'd be about 50 pounds overweight. that's all. I stalked back into the bathroom and, after 20 minutes of combing my hair and putting my secret stash of cotton candy perfume on me, I was ready to go. I always liked smelling sweet, having strawberry blonde hair I like my hair smelling like strawberries, obviously, and the rest of me smelling like cotton candy since, you know, my name is Candy. I went out to the living room and met Lucas, my older 17 year old brother. He had a plain white shirt on and jeans. I was wearing a faded red, white, and blue heart tank top with denim shorts and black converse. I know, vastly different. I was kind of the black sheep of the family in all aspects. I have strawberry blonde hair in the darker side, closer to red, and blue eyes. The rest of my family has black hair and dark eyes. I was an accident, or rather, a "surprise". Joking, I was a complete accident. I was a failed abortion. But no, it doesn't stop there, I was supposed to be still born! Yeah I know, against all odds the beautiful blue eyed angel named Candy was kind enough to grace this inferior world. If you wanted to include that my dad had a vasectomy before I was born as one of the near death experiences I survived, don't. My mom cheated on him. Well, that's what we think anyway, because I look nothing like him and of course the afire mentioned give away. I guess it's still kinda up in the air? That's why they're divorced which I'm pretty sure is a contributing factor as to why I only see him once every 5 years or so. It's been 2 years since I saw him last and to be disgustingly honest I don't really miss the asshole. Call it bitchiness, call it my coping mechanism, I don't really care, it is what it is. Anyway, physical appearance isn't the only way I'm different in case you were wondering. I also have some vastly different beliefs than the rest of my beloved family. I'll give you some hints. My mom, brother, stepdad, real dad, and step mom are all very Christian and I ( surprise surprise) am an atheist. They are conservative, 'cause what else could a Christian be, and I'm as left wing as you can get. I know you're all like," Hey wtf you're mom tried to have an abortion and she's a conservative?! This makes no fucking sense!" I agree, but according to her I'm the thing that changed her. That nothing with a chance at a life should be killed. Stupid, I know, but to each their own. I didn't mind being the outcast though. Actually, I liked being different. I was unique and, as for my beliefs, I knew that was me thinking and my opinions weren't twisted by my parents. They, on the other hand, hated it. Everyone else wasn't too big of a fan. As parents do to cover up for any "bad" thing their child does, they'll claim it's a phase. I've just come to accept that she has a dream of perfection and most of me isn't in it.