Ivy

3| The Beginning of the End

It's a good thing I have been catching buses and trains for a good part of my high school life because I know every bus and train that runs on the way to my house.

Or near it anyways.

I run out into the cold night, past the Greek pillars, past the valet, past the ornate iron gates that tower over me. I dash on to the old road and begin to run to the nearest subway station, which isn't that far. I thank my instinct to always pack my metro card and loose change wherever I go.

I smile when I spot the familiar green metal billboard with the peeling white letters stating which trains stopped here. I felt immense relief when I see my stop. I run down the metal stairs, my flats hardly making a sound. I look around to see if there was anyone watching before I duck under the metal turnstiles, and run to the platform.

There aren't many people, just a few of the homeless and some business men running it a bit late. There is a roar as the train approaches, and then it flies past, the wind from the speed of the train whipping my curls into a tangled mess. I have to hold my dress' skirt down, unless it will blow up.

It finally comes to a stop with a hissing of the electric rails, and with the ever familiar ding dong the doors slide open. I take a seat next to a particularly heavily gratified window, and try to forget what happened tonight at the auction.

I try to forget everything I ever felt for Jace, and the incoming hell Clarisse was planning for me. I specifically told my idiot brother to let her down easily, but no. He had to make a fool out of himself. And judging from the decibel level of Clarisse's outraged cry, so did she.

I lean my head on a clean patch of the window, and shut my eyes, letting the monotone of the railway calm me. I count the number of stops, getting out at mine. No one exits with me, and the platform is devoid of any life forms, save for a lone page fluttering in the train's wind.

I make my way up the stairs, the cold night air the only indicator to just how warm the subway Is right now. I wish I had my jacket, but as such, it was left with my parents' and Jeremy's when we got to the Fundraiser.

I hope they remember it when they are leaving.

I wrap my arms around myself, extremely aware of how short the dress is and its lack of sleeves. Immediately, I listen for the sounds of someone following me, and I keep my eyes peeled for any of the druggie groups that hang around here at this time of night.

I follow the street signs, and I smell rain. I grain when the first cold drop hits me, and I quicken my pace until I hit a familiar path. I am sprinting down the street, eager to get home when the downpour unleashes itself. I run up the porch steps and take the key from the pot of one of the many hanging plants we have. It was too common to keep keys under eaves.

I hastily unlock the door and run in. That's the second time I got soaked today. Wasn't my life wonderful.

I grimace as I peel the wet layers of peach with from my thighs, and I head upstairs to change. I pull on comfortable sweats, an over large shirt and quickly towel dry my hair. I make my way downstairs to catch the latest episode of The Originals.

It is the raised and outraged voices that alert me that my parents are home.

"Jeremy! That was still incredibly rude of you!" my mother says. Usually, when she was pretty angry, her English accent would make an appearance, and right now it was in full swing.

"Mom! She wouldn't get off my case! I had to do something!" comes Jeremy's voice.

"Still, son, the Jacobs are very good family friends. We can't treat them without respect." That Is dad. The keys jingles in the lock, and the door swings open. Jeremy stomps in, followed by my mom and dad. They stop when they see me on the couch, wet and bed-raggled.

"Abby! What was tonight all about?" mom asks, "you don't just run away and leave. You could have been raped or kidnapped!"

"Or gotten soaked in the rain. Again." I say, "And it's nothing, mom. Just leave me be."

"Abigail, is there something we don't know? Why did that boy throw you down. And what was it that Clarisse said to you?" Mom pushed.

"Nothing! Okay? It doesn't concern you! You never cared to ask before anyways!" I yell. "All you care about is your meetings, and dinner parties, and acquaintances and family friends! You never take time for us!"

There Is a shocked silence after my outburst, and then-

"You do not take that tone with me young lady," my mother spit out in a strong accent, "what we do makes you what you are now: comfortable and in a home. Now go up to your room, and think about what you said. I think an apology is in order to your father and I."

I stand, furious. "I won't apologise because I meant everything I said." I then stomp my way up the stairs, and slam the door. I do not realize the warm tears steaming down my face until I look in the mirror, and for some reason, it infuriates me more. I pinch the fat on my stomach, and I hold out my ratty hair.

"I am too weak," I say to myself in the mirror, "I let people push me around. I am too fat, I need to change that. And it starts tonight. Tonight, I will say good-bye to the good girl. Tonight, Abby dies."

I smile at myself in the mirror. I need to make a name for the new me, but I'll think about that later. First, I need to lose that weight. I remember reading about binging somewhere. I run through the plan in my head before packing my bag and going to sleep.