A Chapter Completed

A Day in my Pathetic Life

The monsters were back. Then again, something can only come back if it left in the first place.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. A dark grey, long sleeved hoodie paired with loose pants. Hair down, like a curtain, partially covering my face.
Whenever dad tells me that I have a pretty face and that I should tie my hair up, I laugh it off.
Part of me wants to believe him, but a stronger and larger part of me laughs at it, saying that dad didn't mean it, that he was just doing his duty.

I grabbed my bag and left my room.
"Dad! I'm going," I yelled.
"What about breakfast?" he yelled back from the kitchen.
As the scent of waffles wafted its way to where I was standing, I automatically replied, "Not hungry. Besides I'm getting late," - an answer that was literally on the tip of my tongue whenever father asked me about breakfast.

I ignored my stomach's complaints and left, walking my way to school. The sky was grey, just like my mood-heck just like my life. Ah well, at least today nobody will ask me why I'm wearing long-sleeves.

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I walked into class and sat at my usual place, way back in the corner. Students trickled in slowly, and the noise level steadily increased.
The teacher, Ms Lara, entered, and the students settled down.
I placed my elbow on the desk and held my face in my palm, looking at her as she taught. Something about osmosis.
I zoned out as usual.

See, it's not that she's a boring teacher, it's just that nowadays, I have zero concentration on anything and everything. Even if it was literally raining cats and dogs right now, I'd barely blink, I am that far gone.

"Zoe, I would really appreciate it if you would grace us all with your attention," I heard her say. Seconds later I realized she was talking to me.
I looked up and saw her looking at me with a look of disapproval.
Shrugging, I sighed. Whatever. I was used to it.
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The bell for lunch rang and I headed to the restroom. Entering the furthest stall,  I locked the door, and sat on the toilet seat. I just stared at the door. My thought ranging from, "you should just kill yourself," to, "you're too much of a coward to do it."
I rolled up my sleeves and looked at my wrist. The cut from last night was still fresh. I traced it with my finger, barely flinching from the sting it caused.
I clenched my jaw willing the tears not to fall, as I recalled the incident. The effort was futile - a tear escaped and found its way down my cheek, falling onto my laps.

The voices of the occasional group of girls were nothing but a distant sound from a far away land. The bathroom stall was my prison, as well as my home. I didn't have it in me to leave as I knew that this was the only place where I could remain alone.

And to remain alone, I deserved. God only knows how many times I felt like running away from home just because I knew my parents would be better off without me. But I am a coward.

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I walked back home after school. I took my time, wanting to be alone for as long as possible.
At home, mother absolutely hated us doing our own stuff, so, unless exams were around the corner, after dinner we all set together in the living room doing something or the other. So basically we had up to dinner to finish all our work or do whatever we wanted to do. After that, hello family time.

But since it was a Friday, things were a bit different. Mother dearest said that Fridays were game nights. The moment dad got home, we'd play a board game, probably Monopoly or Cluedo, and then we'd have dinner in the living room while watching a movie. Homework could wait.

I kicked a pebble and it rolled a few meters and landed on a crack on the sidewalk. I stopped, and stared at the crack. I remembered her favorite game, stepping anywhere except on the cracks, and how I loathed it. She'd pull my out of the house almost everyday to play it, I'd beg her to spare me the torture and she'd just laugh.

I breathed in shakily, as I felt an ache ripple through me. I felt pained, not for the first nor second and definitely not for the last time. I clenched my jaw and willed myself to start walking.

Ten minutes later, I was home, knocking the front door. I crossed my fingers, hoping that dad was still at work, desperately wanting to postpone the family time, but no such luck. Who should open the door but my darling father.

My dad cares a lot about me. In fact, from the rest of my family, I know he is the one who knows most about what I'm going through. Although the little that he knows is barely the tip of the iceberg. He mostly lets me and Chase, my brother, do what we want, and our, I mean my, grades are not something he minds much, as long as I am above the pass mark in all subjects. However, when it comes to family night, he is all for it.

Hence him grabbing my hand and dragging me inside the house and telling me to sit on the couch, exclaiming that he had waited all week for this day and how he would, this time, definitely win. Yeah, even I snorted at that one. He sucked at board games.
Chace was already home. He went to a different school - St Adams school for the Gifted - because he was a wizard at maths and the sciences.

"Serene, Chase, Zoe's home!" Dad hollered. I grabbed my phone and pretended I was texting a friend, if I had any that is.
I saw mother enter the room, from the corner of my eye, carrying Monopoly, with Chase behind her. I still pretended to be busy, tapping away on a blank screen with my fingers.

Sometimes I wonder, is it even worth it, owning a phone? Especially for me? I wasn't on any social media; Instagram, Facebook, Snapchat, nothing. I hardly used it. I mean, it's charge never went below fifty percent, even if I used it for four days without recharging it. My gallery was empty. Basically, the phone's only use was calling either dad, mother or Chase. That's literally it. Pretty sad huh. Well, that's the norm for you.

Five minutes later, mother had set the pieces and cards. Dad beckoned me to sit in between him and Chase on the carpet and the game began.

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I won't go into the tedious details of the game but if you must know, Chase won. Again. Which makes it his sixth win in a row. It'd have been his twentieth had he not gotten the flu and stayed in bed for three days.
What I'm trying to say here, is that he is brilliant, a genius. He's clever, and tops his exams and basically makes my parents proud while I just exist with my Cs and really rare Bs. And I hate it.

Sure you just be thinking, "Wow, what a mean and jealous sister. Can't even handle her own brother's success."

I get it, I really do. And I hate myself for feeling that but it's true. I'm nothing. He shines in a crowd while I'm invisible.
Then again, it's better that way. I don't get any unwanted attention.
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After dinner, we watched a movie, don't know which one. I was too busy trying to get out of watching it, and missed the start, which increased my disinterest. I lay on the couch on my back, staring at the ceiling, silent on the outside, restless on the inside. I just lay there, listening at the comments made by my parents and Chase.

I wished that I was with then, laughing and joking with them. I wished I loved my brother. I wished mother was not so distant. I wished I wasn't silently suffering. But most of all, I wished that I had never met her.

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There you have it guys. The first chapter of , well, "A Chapter Completed"
See what I did there? :)

So, what do you guys think of Zoe? Her family? Who is the mysterious 'her' that Zoe keeps on talking about? And how about her feelings towards her brother's success?