Queen of Hearts

Lipstick Can't Fix This

Azalea Evans

There are some problems lipstick can't fix.

Usually when I'm faced with a problem, I coat on a dark red matte over my plump lips, throw on a skimpy black dress and convince Kasey to sneak into a bar with me.

But, when I went home for the summer vacation; I wasn't faced with a problem.

I was faced with a tragedy.

You know the expression that someone was born with a silver spoon in their mouth.

Well, if that's true about the rich and spoilt, then my mother had an entire fucking golden ladle in her mouth.

Pampered, wealthy and gorgeous. My mother had it all.

She was prom queen for three years straight and then - there was me.

After she had me, she was still beautiful. However, my grandparents cut her off, meaning she was no longer pampered or rich.

I have no clue who my father is, and I wonder  if my mother has one either.

She sacrificed, a lot for me.

Despite, no longer being rich- she managed to get me a full ride scholarship into one of the most prestigious boarding schools in the country.

And, trust me - no one would ever guess that I was a scholarship student.

So when I took the train home for the summer off, the last thing I was expecting was to find my mother dead on the floor.

With a knife stabbed into her chest.

The police said she did it to herself.

My mother, my only family and my source of hope had killed herself.

She chose to die rather than stay alive with me.

After that, it was a lot harder to smile.

And when I did, it was never real.

The occasional problem-solving lipstick had become my trademark, and when I wore it - it was classy not trashy.
~.~

Even though, I was 16 and still technically a minor, because I was in a boarding school, there was no need for me to go into foster care.

The state contacted my grandparents, whom I've never seen and they apparently gave their permission for me to stay there for the summer.

To say I was nervous was an understatement.

I was about to live with and become the property of those that have rejected me before I was even born.

From the little my mother had told me , they were hard to impress.

And even though a part of her hated them for leaving her alone, I knew from the longing  face she wore when she spoke of them,  that a part of her missed them.

Hopefully, they'd like me, and if they didn't- well then they'd learn to like me.