Magic Tricks

Chapter 1

My darkness shows me the light. My madness keeps me sane.
~ Me

"You're it!" the little boy from across the street yelled. His sister chased him around in circles till they both fell to the ground laughing loudly.

I stood in my bedroom watching them play through my window. I watched them and wished I could be as carefree as they were.

It was a hot, sunny day like it always was in Bellsville. Walking over to my bed and sighed as I laid on it. My eyes focused on the cream paint that coated my bedroom walls. I fixed my attention on the stars my dad had drawn on the ceiling for me when I was a little girl, he used to tell me each star was different and they all held their purpose, just like each person in this world. 'Everyone has their one fairy tale all you have to do is believe' he would say.

I believed that for the longest time until I realized that it was all big lie. What is the point of living if we were all going to die anyway? As kids, we are taught to believe that everything and everyone has good in them, that every situation has a silver lining but what we weren't told is that life is painful and agonizing.

We are poisoned with the notion that everything will work out for the best. We are trained to expect the best, but not the worst and those of us who manage to see through the lies we're being fed are regarded to as damage or lonely or my favorite... broken.

We are unwanted and silenced like our pain isn't real, like our suffering is all in our heads.

I'm not usually this depressing, I don't normally contemplate the meaning of life every day but today is the anniversary of my mother's alleged death. I say alleged because there is no proof that she is dead. My mom and dad's relatives threw a party every year on this day in honor of her. She's been gone for 9 years now.

I thought the idea was utterly stupid; we are supposed to mourn on this day not wear fancy dresses and plaster the biggest smiles on our faces. It didn't feel like we were honoring her, it felt like we were celebrating her death.

Nonetheless, I still went to the parties and pretended I was happy because my dad forced me to go, he said I could decide whether or not I wanted to go to the parties when I turned eighteen, and since I'm currently still seventeen I'm stuck going to the stupid party.

"Abigail, it's time to go get down here!" my dad yells. This year the party was being held at my grandmother's house. She is the only one that agrees that the party idea is idiotic, which made me wonder why she agreed to it being held in her home.

I got up from my bed and walked down to the living room. My father stood in the middle of the room; he had on a black tux that looked expensive. He'd tied his long jet black hair into a bun. He smiled at me although he wouldn't admit it I knew he hated the party as much as I did.

His blue eyes are dull usually when he was happy they twinkle, they haven't twinkled since mom was taken.

He looks down at the outfit I chose, and his smile disappears. "Must you wear a black dress?" He questions. He looked annoyed; I always wore a black dress to the parties.

Everyone else wore bright colored dresses; the kind people wore to fancy events. That's what disgusted me most about the parties, the people there didn't even show a single ounce of sadness. They were all smiling and laughing like my mother's memory meant nothing.

Wearing black was my way of showing my hatred for the event. If I had to go to it, I'm determined to let everyone know that I didn't want to be there. "I'm not changing dad, besides you're wearing black too," I said, gesturing to his tux.

He frowns at my response but says nothing. He walks out of the living room, grabs the car keys and leaves the house. I roll my eyes inwardly whenever he's mad at me he gives me the silent treatment for a while. It's not like it made much of a difference he didn't talk to me whether he was angry or not. He'd become distant towards me and only me.