Falling for the Mailman

four//Started with a Blade

Yay! Finally a picture of Sophia :)
Okay so this chapter is back in Sophia's perspective and this is what happened on the same day as when Jesse met Monique (the day after the party).
Enjoy!! I really appreciate anyone taking the time to read my little book :)

Sophia Mattson
Saturday

I wake up with a groan.

While it's an advantage to not get drunk easily, my body decides I still needed to be punished with a killer headache when I wake up.

It isn't that big or that unbearable, I'm just quite intolerant to any kind of pain and it makes me more grumpy than sore.

After refusing to belief the sun had risen, I finally get out of my warm bed -which was more like falling ungracefully out of my warm bed- and take a much needed shower.

I feel a lot better after my hair has been washed and my body smells like vanilla bean soap.

Abbi's coming to pick me up at ten to go to the mall because she decided her huge closet didn't hold it's maximin capacity of clothing and she needed more.

✿ • ❀ • ✿

I start getting ready, beginning with a crap load of concealer.

It's one of the reasons I don't have much extra spending money.

The number of bottles I go through adds up to quite an expense.

But I don't really mind.

I do what I can to cover the ink on my skin.

I smear the dense liquid on my wrist and admire my work when I finish.

I've managed to hide the tattoo from the world for four years, and I am proud.

I sigh.

I feel a weight on my arm, forever dragging me down.

My arm is physically heavier with that much concealer on, but the burden I feel is more metaphorical.

The tattoo and the memories behind it always force their way into my mind.

Even though I can't see it, I know it's there, and I know what it stands for.

I hate it, but I can't bring myself to get it removed.

It reminds me of what I once believed in, what I once stood for, and it reminds me I can't go back.

I'm also a bit stubborn. There's no way I'm removing it after the pain and trouble I went through to get it.

I walk over to my closet next, and peer inside.

Though I don't own as many clothes as Abbi, I still have a fair amount, and they're mostly designer items.

The perks of having a best friend with a mom who owns the biggest fashion company and modelling agency in the States.

We get all the out-of-season clothes, which are still absolutely gorgeous. Every girl in the grade has at least once tried to befriend us, only because of our clothes and accessories.

We turned them straight down, of course.

I settle for a white flowy skirt and a blue halter top, paired with my favourite strapped heels.

I look in the mirror and decide on something to do with my hair, instead of leaving it out.

I choose to straighten it with my flat iron and after about fifteen minutes, my hair looks sort of presentable.