Girls Who Dreamt of Castles

Chapter Nine

"Words are easy; like the wind. Faithful friends are hard to find."
- William Shakespeare.

Three simple wishes were all Adira had when she got out of bed in the morning. They were pretty simple. She had to find a job, get a trim done on her hair, and get drunk if she returned, that is, with an effective result.

The first two wishes were thrown out of the window when she got back home that hot afternoon.

"Curse this stupid hot sun," she muttered while fondling with her keys as she tried to open the door to her apartment. Nothing seemed to move. She took a short break and tried again but still, the lock wouldn't budge.

Everything wasn't working her way. Her financial life sucked, her love life was nothing to write home about, and now, her damn locks. She tried not to think about everything but it was hard not to worry about said things.

"What is wrong with you?" she screamed this time and banged the door. Then she huddled beside it, crying. And it was a rough cry. She scratched her scalp and arms leaving faint scratches that she'll regret later. She could lose jobs in the future, but she didn't care. She just sat there and cried, hoping no one would see her.

After what seemed like hours, she convened the courage to try again. She got up and wiped the tears off her eyes, and without putting pressure on the lock, she turned the key sideways, and with a soft click, the door swung open.

The air that hit her was comforting. She rolled her eyes, grabbed her bag and shoes on the floor where she had sat and got in.

Now in the living room, she locked the door behind her, threw the sack and shoes on the floor, then she placed her keys on the centre table. Her hair and emotions were everywhere.

She didn't know why she bothered loosening her braids and why she went out to look for a job. It was a waste of her time. There were too many people in line and the slots were already full.

There were days when she couldn't even talk to herself about how her day went, today was no exception. She didn't feel like herself, or maybe she felt more like herself. She didn't know.

The model drifted her skinny figure to the kitchen, expecting something she knew she wouldn't get.

Food.

She eventually made up her mind to drink. Redrawing a cool bottle of pineapple juice from the open fridge, she took note of the time. It was just a few minutes past noon.

She sighed, maybe she did overreact a tiny bit. She should have tried another agency. She had given up too early.

Adira sighed and laid on the bare, tiled floor with the small bottle of juice at hand. 

Overwhelmed by the cold, she didn't let it bother her. She was glad to be back home, to be in the comfort of safe familiarity. She bit her lips thinking about how distressed she had been, how distressed she was, and how bad she missed her family.

She pressed her lips together, holding back her tears. Grabbing her mobile phone, she went to her music app, played a song, and let the lyrics bite into her as she binge drank to anytime she heard a word that sounded pitiful.

She had been stressed in the past, no doubt about it. But she had never felt this stressed before. The issue wasn't finding the job, it was getting it.

The modelling agency's requirements were worse than her hangovers on a bad day.

She didn't want to think anymore. She laid still in the coldness and numbness of the song.