Charcoal veins

Chapter 3- Cups of Tea and Material Girls

I ate my dinner alone, in the small but comforting confines of my room, relishing in the silence, not having to hear the stories of teenage heart break or what 'fit' boy band member is dating which obnoxious model.  This room had offered me so much comfort during the measly 8 weeks a year that I stayed here, it was although every time I entered the room and saw my tattered books that lay randomly placed on my shelves or the white double bed with crisp white sheets that would often fall off of me during the night due to my constant tossing and turning, I was home.

After having finished my delicious yet slightly cold food, I decided to unpack my things, moving my bags and satchel to in front of my old white wardrobe and placing my clothes inside. I closed the door looking at the mirror that replaced one of the doors covered in a thin layer of dust, the result of it having not been looked in for a year. I swipe my finger across the mirror, creating a small clean path of sight, allowing me to clearly see a tiny reflection of the room and myself. I grabbed an old black t-shirt from my bag and scrunched it up, using it as a cloth to clean the dust off of the mirror, revealing my now whole reflection.

Some people look into a mirror and smile or frown or possibly shrug their shoulders and walk away, but from a young age all I ever did was probe myself, pointing and tugging at places that could be changed and edited, places that could be made better.

I was never an ugly child, I always had my mother to constantly remind me that I couldn’t be ugly, because I was a lady of the Morts family. It just wasn’t in my genes. However, that didn’t stop me from feeling boring and empty. When I look at my eyes in the mirror I don’t see any emotion, no love, no happiness or even hate. They're just there. I have no thigh gap, no skinny model like legs, no Amazonian sun kissed skin and definitely not a slim and toned waist. I have pale white skin that is littered with tiny white and red stretch marks across my hips, bottom and thighs, like my skin has been scratched over and over. My nose is probably a little too big for my face, but the hoop in it makes it look a little better. My eyes are an odd mixture of green, yellow, blue and brown, not quite hazel, and when I cry they have this horrible habit of going bright green. My lips are on the small side and are more or less always chapped and my skin is scared slightly, the result of bad acne as a teenager.

My thought were interrupted by a loud crashing sound coming from the floor above, a sound that i already began to be familiar with.  Not only did the stupid drumming tell me that most people were back from the dining hall, but also that 'Zeke' had returned to his room, and wouldn’t shut the fuck up.

I stared back at the mirror, watching the ceiling vibrate in the reflection, noticing how small specks of dust and old paint flecks crumbled and slowly fell to the floor. I looked back at myself, scrutinizing my outfit: my ripped black jeans turned up at the ankles contrasting with my dusty pink dolly shoes and frilly white socks. The white V-neck T-shirt I had on slightly holey and warn, yet oversized and comfy, and also slightly see through, just showing an outline of my black bra.

Much to my annoyance the drumming continued, only this time it began to get louder and harder. It was as though the bastard wanted me to storm up the bloody stairs and tell him to shut up. Which is exactly what I decided to do.

I threw my door open and slammed it shut, almost able to hear my picture frames rattle against my walls. Running up the corridor and stairs, taking two steps at a time, I reach the source of the noise. The door had band posters on and what seemed to be a misplaced black and white cartoon of a young boy playing a violin with musical notes swirling around him. Angrily I bashed my hand against the door, unintentionally making the number ‘3’ on the door swing slightly on its screw, so it hung at an odd angle. The door, number 032, was now even more bizarre.