Fractured

Chapter 1

"Alex." I hear a women's voice say.
I mentally cringe. Maybe it was physically. I'm not sure. It's too early to notice details.

There is a noticeable dip from the women sitting down on the edge of my bed.

"Alex. Wake up." It's hard not to distinguish this high pitched nasally voice as my mothers and I do what I've always done by respond with a groan.

The weight is lifted off the edge of my bed when she realizes I'm not going to respond with coherent words.
Maybe she's leaving?
I listen to her heels rapping against the hardwood floor, there clicks soften as she gets further away. Maybe she's actually letting me sleep? Her heels stop, no such luck.

It's too early for this. I open my eyes just as my mother throws back the curtains to let the sun pour into my room and invade my light lacked eyes.

I blink a few items trying to adjust to the sudden brightness of the early morning sun
I flop on my side and look at the clock on my white perfectly polished beside table, it's glowing red numbers tell me it's five in the morning.

Groaning I pull my blankets up to my face, a sad struggle for the sleep deprived girl.
You've got to be kidding me? Not this again.

"Alex it's time to get up you have wasted so much of the day." My mothers high pitched voice rings threw my room. She's purposely talking louder now to wake me up. It's noticeably and something she's always done.

My eyes drift to her and, I take in her appearance like always she's dressed and has her makeup caked on her face with high heals to top it all off. The perfect mother to an not so perfect daughter.

She would be much prettier without all the makeup, maybe even real.

But she has to put it on just incase anyone comes to our house at five in the morning.
Ridiculous, I know. But I agree anyways, it's not like I have much a of a choice.

"Yes mother." I respond robotically as I throw my overly prices comforters off of my body.

My mothered eyes rake my clothing choice, my favorite pajamas with dogs and cats all over them and a baggy t-shirt is what she has to look at. Not exactly what my mother expects.

Her face cringes and she shakes her head in disappointment.
She doesn't like when I wear these type of clothes to sleep.
She bought me a few pairs of pale colored silk embroidered sleeping shorts, shirts, and pants. Even when we sleep we have to look acceptable. But what she doesn't understand is that when I'm sleeping, like most people I do not care what I look like.

My mother however does not think this is an acceptable way of living, thus brought on the silk pajama dilemma.

But Andrew is her exception, it's whatever he wants when he wants it. Which is fine to me, Andrew isn't a terrible brother, and he doesn't take advantage of his throne of being my mothers favorite. Which is a plus in being the only seeming, defective member of this family.

I've let it bother me too much, I love my brother.

And maybe this was terrible but I almost liked him better than my mother, he just got it. We had conversations I wanted to talk about and if I was having trouble with something Andrew was my immediate go to, not my mother. She just didn't understand.

"Alex I had our butler pick up your dress from the dry cleaning." My mother says too enthusiastically

"I wish it would have gotten ruined." I mutter under my breathe. Not loud enough for my mother to hear.

That dress is to pink, and too puffy and has too many frills across the bottom of it. It's disgusting really. But my mother likes it so I have no choice but to like it too.