End Game: Happy

Preface

Chloe's POV

The heavy sound of rain hitting my window woke me from my light but peaceful sleep. I turned in my bed as I groaned grabbing my phone. It was eight am on a Saturday, how ridiculous to be up this early! Thunder shook my room as I rolled over in my bed pulling my black covers over my face. As the rain grew louder I gave up on trying to fall back asleep.

Pushing myself up in my bed I looked to the right as thunder shook my room once more. My room was small but complete with a full dresser and desk for my clothes and studies. The rain slapped against my small window as I looked past my curtains towards outside.

What a dark and depressing way to start the day.

8 am was too early for almost anything, especially on a Saturday. My stomach rumbled as I sighed; I was constantly hungry.

You would think after three years of anorexia my stomach would just catch on that I wouldn't be eating but, nope. One could also think for someone as depressed and suicidal as I, how could they be still alive and breathing? The answer clearly is plain and simple after years and years of misery, happiness should follow. It's like that saying you always hear, there's light at the end of the tunnel or even in darkness there is light. You know all these positive quotes to keep me and my mind occupied.

As the rain and wind intensified I laid back in my bed closing my eyes thinking back to the time it all began.

• • •

Walking into my kitchen my eyes traveled to my stepmom who was smoking a cigarette. "What?" She spat at me as I stared into her brown eyes.

"Why do you smoke? It makes our entire house smell awful." I spoke and she laughed tapping the cigarette on a tray next to her.

"You're one of the reasons why I do it. Always bringing great stress upon me with all your difficulties!" I watched her bring the cigarette up to her chapped red lips as she laughed.

I was left speechless as I sighed walking back up to my room.

Sometimes I wish I had my parents here for me. I knew very little about them. My mother was very young when she got pregnant with me and my father left my mom when she told him. I was brought into this world an orphan.

My birth had killed my mother.

I felt tears well up in my eyes as I flopped back on my bed. All my life I have been bossed and pushed around by the woman who adopted me. She tells me I am lucky not to be in an orphanage, but I'm sure it couldn't be worse than here.

Occasionally she made one meal for the week that I would have to ration out over the course of seven days.  I began to fast, which in result led to me being hungry every second.

I closed my eyes and breathed out rolling over in my bed.

I was awoken by the sound of the front door slamming as my eyes opened sleepily. Turning to my left I saw the red text of 4:45 am staring back at me from my alarm clock. Another one of my stepmoms friends must have been either dissatisfied or angry again.

If there was one thing I prayed and wished I could change about her was if she wouldn't have a new man over every week. I couldn't even begin to count the days I haven't been able to sleep because of them.

My body sat wide awake as I sighed knowing I wouldn't be able to fall back asleep.

I stood up from my bed walking over to my window looking outside. Our freshly mowed lawn was lit by a hint of the sunrise.

My mind raced back to her words, she told me I was the reason she smoked. I walked across my room I placed my hand on the doorknob twisting my door open. The hallway sat dark and eerie as I stepped outside my bedroom. I looked right then left for any sign of movement or noise. After a few seconds passed I began walking towards the kitchen, I knew this is where she kept her cigarettes.

Stepping onto the cool hard tiles I made my way through the dim lit kitchen. My eyes laid upon two packs of Marlboro cigarettes, I again looked to my right and left making sure I was alone. Placing my hand upon the pack I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

• • •

The loud crash of thunder woke me from my thoughts. I breathed out trying to rid the awful memories from my head. Pushing my black comforter off my body I stood up. Immediately a cold breeze came over my skinny pale body and I shivered. It was almost May and the weather was really struggling to stay warm. One day it could be forty-five degrees and then the next day it could be seventy. I stuck my cold small bare feet into my black slippers walking towards my window. Pulling back my white curtains I looked out onto the rainy scenery below. The green grass soaked with rain and the gloomy sky almost matched my mood.

I let go of my curtain walking over towards my grey sweatshirt which contained my pack of cigarettes. Thunder once again shook my room as the storm continued on. Yawning I pulled the sweatshirt over my head, now I was almost ready to face the day. Reaching both my hands inside the sweatshirt pocket I pulled out my cigarettes and blue lighter. I broke the seal of the new package unwrapping the plastic and tossing it in my garbage can. Setting my cigarettes and lighter securely back into my pocket I started for the door.

Soon would mark two years of me picking up this wonderful habit.

My adoptive mom, however, couldn't give a damn about me. So who is there to stop me? No one cares about me but these cigarettes. Plus they can't speak or judge me which is a plus! She supplies my cigarettes in hopes that I would die sooner. I'm sure she already has my grave picked out knowing her.

Fifteen is a young age for anyone to be smoking but, fuck them. Nicotine and tobacco help me relieve stress.

Opening the white door to my room I looked right to left before continuing to walk down the long quiet hall. The walls in our home were bare and held no pictures or achievements. She, of course, didn't want to ruin the white walls. Reaching the end of the hallway I stepped down the wooden steps making my way to the patio.

This was the only room I was allowed to smoke in as designated by her. The patio was a small room with multiple windows and a sliding glass door leading outside. On nicer days I would often open the patio door which had a screen door in. The breeze was wonderful and the peaceful outdoor sounds were relaxing. I took my seat on a small couch watching the trees blow back and forth.

Every day at least two to three times a day I would sit it the same spot with the same routine.

Flipping off the top of the pack of cigarettes I pulled one from its package. Adjusting my position I laid sideways on the couch resting my feet up on the cushions watching the rain pour down. I held the cigarette in my mouth flicking the lighter with my thumb lighting the cigarette.

I felt the rush of nicotine overwhelm my body laying my head back and closing my eyes. As I opened them I blew out smoke as if I was releasing all the stress bundled up inside me.

I tried to forget about my adoptive mom and her constant rotating men. Most of the time it didn't work but, I tried to imagine just maybe just this one time I could forget everything. Forget the white scars on my hipbones from harming myself with my razor. Forget that I was even starving myself to feel beautiful or just to forget that I was unappreciated and unwanted. I sat up on the couch tapping the end of my cigarette on the ashtray. The more aggressive I tapped the more my cigarette lessened. Watching this almost felt like my life every time I picked a cigarette up.

Maybe one day I will quit this habit before it kills me but until then fuck it.