Little Lola

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Lola sat sprawled out in her bed staring at the ceiling. She was 16 but was adamant in keeping her glow in the dark star stickers on her ceiling. It calmed her down after things got rough and physical throughout her childhood.

"Lola! Get your ass down here now young lady" angrily screamed a woman, this woman was her mother.

Despite Kerry being her mother, she didn't like to be called mother. It made her feel old and to be in the movie business you must be young and beautiful and young. Kerry did have Lola at a young age and this is one of the root causes to her problems. Lola wasn't wanted. A lot of you reading are possibly accidents but no Lola defied every contraceptive to get where she is today. She has had to fight for her place in this world harder than anyone before. Zooming in on the beginning she of course as a sperm had to swim and survive and reach the egg before any of the other billions of sperm. It's a literal race for life. But there was a blockage. A giant rubber barrier similarly to the great wall of china. Blocking their path, but she was smart. There were cracks in this wall which allowed her to get to her goal. Even despite her mother being on the pill the egg and the sperm fused. The start of her life began.

But I have not told you who the father is. Why? Well because nobody knows. That night Kerry was involved in one of the most horrific crimes known to man. She was taken, kidnapped outside of her school by a group of men. These men were all older than her, some more than double her age. Any one of those men could be the father.

Kerry did her best to get rid of what she described 'it'. Not a beautiful baby being born into the world, not 'her heir to the throne'. Lola was an it. And she remains and it for the entirety of her life of abuse and not being wanted.

Lola got up from her bed and wondered down the maze of hallways coated in wallpaper which is peeling off and onto piles on the floor. The carpet was stained and smelt like the countless gallons of drunk hobo piss which seeped into the creaky floorboards. As she made her way down the stairs the mess of unwashed clothes followed her into the kitchen.

"I called you five minutes ago you ungrateful brat! Next time you want feeding make the food your bloody self and while you're at it clean the kitchen, mop the floors, wipe the windows and feed the dog"

"Mother, the dog died last week?? Have you still not taken him to the pet graveyard in town?" innocently questioned Lola

"Died? Died? Is that what you're calling it now? He ran away to some farm or whatever mothers tell their child when their goldfish or whatever dies" she said taking another puff from her cigarette.

Lola slowly moved towards the plate of food her mother had concocted. It was a mess of undercooked mash potato; a few pieces of poorly cut carrot and god knows whatever that brown mush on the side was. As her small dainty hands moved closer and closer to the plate her mother's hand flies down and smacks it off the dirty countertop. She gave Lola a smug look and walked away shouting clean that up will you.

A few hours of chores/child labour Lola found herself in the same position on her bed looking at the same childish glow in the dark stars. She often compared herself to that of Cinderella however she wondered when her prince charming, or anyone, would come and whisk her away and suddenly start a new, happier life. But every day this dream seemed to get further and further away as she's trapped in this hell.

In the midst of her daydreaming about her prince charming, her knight in shining armour, her saviour the door slams shut. Her mother has left again. She checked her clock and it was a quarter to midnight. This was extremely typical of her.

Lola had often been left home alone from the age she could walk. She realised pretty soon just how independent she has to be to survive in this situation. She pretty much taught herself how to talk, how to walk, how to do basic things in life. She grew older and had to learn how to cook for herself and do the laundry. However, she was expected to do this for her mother as well. Routine was drilled into her head and it seemed more like she was an unpaid made than a daughter. She never received that mothers love, or attention young girls required. She was always alone and at school she became the weirdo. She used her long, thin, pitch black hair to cover her face as she sat alone at a table doing her work. She was extremely intelligent, she loved her history and her sciences however a career in anything she loves is out of reach. It got into her head that the only thing she could do to get money was work at low end jobs as a cashier. That isn't a career. Lola's intelligence is wasted.

Everything gets worse. At 16 a lot more issues come about, being always known as the weirdo brings a lot of bulling and silent whispers. She doesn't know what a real friendship is, and she doesn't know anyone like her.

It was the first year of year eleven when she realised she has to do something. She could do anything she wanted. Nobody knows her, nobody knows the horror she endures behind the curtains of her pitch-black hair. The canteen was an extremely huge place that routinely fills with about 1500 students as the flood gates are opened at twenty passed one every school day. Lola never normally goes. She sits in her history classroom having conversations with the only person who seems to care, the only person she can trust.

She looked up to Miss Terrence. She was strong. Independent. Confident. She had so many characteristics Lola lacked and wanted. She obsessed over every freckle on her face. Daydreaming she imaged them as battle scars, each freckle had its own story. That way she could relate as she's been through hell and has scars to show from it, bruises to show for it.

But it gets to a point where there is no more room for battle scars. Lola is covered in them, she's been through so much and has reached a breaking point. She gets home and stares at the stars again when a sudden struck of inspiration hits her head. She pulls out her awful barley working laptop and starts to google. It gets later and later into the night and a few purchases later the plan is set in motion. Her head has gone too far and there's no way to reverse it. There's no way to reverse the trauma she endured for so many years of her life even before she was born. Her mind is so broken it resorts to feeling like to get rid of her bad feelings is to project them on to anyone and everyone. Some innocent some guilty but of course her first victim in mind is the woman who caused all of this.


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