The Girl of The Sun

one

Preserve your memories, keep them well. What you forget you can never retell.

                                         -Louisa May Alcott

TW: This chapter mentions abuse, self harm and mental illness

Today is the day, the day that everything would change. My fists stiffened and I clasped my hands together while wearing my long white gloves. The limo pulled up to the Cathedral, my heart began to race faster. "Here it is, are you excited?" my mom hugged me before getting out of the limo. My mom, my tias, and my soon to be mother and sister in law aided to my vail. We enter a room and before us was the door to the alter. Everybody was waiting, I can hear some chatter and the sound of an orchestra playing. Everyone I was with left down the aisle, leaving me in the room alone. My hands were shaking so badly I couldn't even hold onto my bouquet. Growing up, I never would've began to think about how I could be here right now, getting married in the greatest city in the world, to the greatest man in the world. I wish I could tell that 17 year old girl just how good things were gonna get, it's almost unreal. "Mija, are you ready?" My dad grabs my arm and kisses my forehead. The big doors open. And there he is, waiting for me. But wait, there's that boy of my past, the one I thought I'd be marrying years ago, he's a man now. He stands up while I walk in. He didn't have to say a word, because his eyes spoke for him. I can't be distracted, I face my Fiancé, my dad squeezes me tightly and gives me away to him. And this is when everything changes.

Five Years Earlier

I waited outside the big bright red doors of my high school. It was a sunny April afternoon, my hair was damp from my last class which had to be swimming of course. Nothing makes me feel worse than having damp hair and my make up 90% washed off of my face. This is definitely not what i thought being 17 would feel like, i wish i could be like those girls in the movies that no matter what they did, they always looked good doing it, I guess that's just not the case for me. I pull out my phone and see a text from my mom
Madre: Running late, I will be there soon, wait where I drop you off
"Great," I mumble under my breath. I walk to the grass field in front of the school. There's a couple sitting under the tree together and a girl with a tennis racket walking to her car. I drag myself in my beat up vans to shade under a tree and put my earphones on. The warm sun hits the right side of my face, and I slightly curl up to the sunny part of the tree, trying to relieve the chill I've had since my last hour. I'm usually the last person who isn't in sports or after school activities that waits for their ride, so this is just a typical day for me. It used to feel embarrassing sitting by myself like that, I can't help it because my moms work schedule doesn't always fall into place with my school days. At this school it's basically a sin to be anywhere without friends or a boyfriend. I don't mind it though, but I won't lie that sometimes I feel bad about it, especially when I get judgement looks coming from the girls in the girls cabinet club. It doesn't make sense, that club is supposed to bring strong young women together to make the community a better place, but they're really the biggest passive aggressive bullies on the planet. They piss me off so much, what gives them the right to act like that towards others, act like they're better than everyone with their lululemon leggings and real birkenstock sandals? Spoiled brats is a good word to describe them. I get everyone has their own shit to deal with, but they have everything handed to them and nothing more makes me angrier to see the way they get everything they don't deserve and continue to slander their peers behind their back.

My parents divorced when I was 6, but a lot led up to that. My brother James and I witnessed a lot of abuse, glass breaking, screaming and slamming doors, it mostly was verbal and emotional abuse, but we did see it become physical at different times. We were no exception to it either. My dad was clinically diagnosed as a sociopath, meaning he was the biggest narcissist bully you could ever think of. I don't like talking about my own dad like that, but that's exactly what he is. It's facts. There was a point in my life where I was his world. My dads job allowed him to travel, taking me with home on many trips to Europe and Asia. I felt like my favorite movie, Crazy Rich Asians except it was Crazy Rich Mexicans with a side of childhood trauma. That was until he stopped his medication and therapy when I was in 6th grade. And being the only one living with him (at the time) I was always on the chopping block of judgment. Nothing I could do was good enough, If I would say something and it would somehow be wrong, boy was I humiliated for it.