Freaks

the second beginning

ONE -- THE SECOND BEGINNING

During a particularly torrid afternoon, with the lime green grass trodden on repetitively, the welcoming blue sky cloudless, the rocks staring menacingly at the figures who passed, and the trees ripe with leaves, a petite and shy girl sat with her arms around a teddy bear called Edgar in an iron tight grip.

The little girl sat on the nearly always abandoned swing like she usually did, the swing was located in the corner of the mostly isolated area in the wide park, her sapphire eyes were focused purely on the sky above her. Her dark bouncy ringlets were tied back into two pigtails, both adjacent to her head, contrasting with her light eyes, which looked like treacherous oceans.

Today, she wore one of her newest acquisitions, a dress darker than midnight which reached to above her knees. With the oppressive weather which reminded her of being put in an oven, she hated the fact she had to wear black for the occasion today, which only resulted in sweat covering her face like a thick blanket.

Bringing a hand to her forehead, she wiped the sheen of sweat which had settled stubbornly on her forehead.

Maybe if she hadn't refused to go to the occasion, she would be sitting happily at home, with a smoothie clasped tightly in one hand, and an electric fan twirling like a ballerina in her room, but she hadn't wanted to go.

Who would enjoy going to their own father's funeral, she thought unhappily.

Everyone would be coming up to you, with a pitiful look plastered onto their faces, and tell you words of comfort, she thought, her cancerous despair and sorrow growing by the second, and like the scorching weather, growing unbearable by the minute.

"But all I want is for my daddy to come back", she whispered, her voice broke at the last word, and then she eventually broke down, tears streaming down her face, wrecking havoc to the make up her mother had forcibly made her wear.

Now she was stuck with her dreadful mother, who only had one mantra stuck in her head at all times: reputation, money and appearance. As for her fraternal twin sister, her mother's perfect clone, she didn't really care for her father. Neither did mother, she thought hatefully. All they wanted was his money and reputation, she added, as she hastily wiped her tears away with the back of her hand, willing herself to stop the tears before they turned into rivers.

Walking with a slight strut, a young boy, older by a year or two than the girl, walked towards the hunched figure who was clearly weeping. As he spied her tears, he almost felt sorry for her.

Almost.

Though he needed to tell her something, and pity wouldn't help him achieve his job.

Soon, the girl noticed the boy swaggering towards her. She seemed to recognise him, but couldn't place where she'd seen him before. His wavy blonde hair and dark brown eyes seemed familiar, but when she tried to think of a possible connection, her memory failed her.

"I'm glad your father died", he spoke once he had reached her.

At first, she looked at him in shock, her crimson red lips parted in surprise, her eyes covered in red lines.

Then, she finally put together what he had said.

"That's such a horrible thing to say, why would you say that?" She asked him in a half whisper, her voice pleading and her eyes watering.

"Your dear father, has done a lot of wrong and hateful things in his life, many of which you will never know about. He deserved to die."

His mud brown eyes seemed icy and mocking, despite the misconception that brown eyed people usually seemed welcoming and nice. This boy was anything but, the girl thought.