Unwritten Love Story

Chapter two

"In shadows deep, innocence mourns,

Bullying's poison, hearts are torn.

Words like spears, wounds unseen,

But unity rises, kindness keen."

***

Two years later...

People claim to kill people with kindness, even when they harm you and others. However, I believe that people deserve to taste their own medicine because it's common sense not to treat people like they're garbage.

I scroll through the comments of a post of a girl in her summer dress, and she looks beautiful as ever, but this world is unkind and mean.

The caption of her post says, "Beauty is pain, and there's beauty in everything."

I chuckle at the caption. Do I believe that beauty is pain and there's beauty in everything? Yes, I do.

The quote takes me back to when I was a junior in high school, when I was in the toilet, looking at myself in the mirror.

I had new acne on my face, and I looked at myself in disgust (as usual) when a classmate walked in. She saw me and smiled at me sympathetically.

I turned around to face her. "I have my pe-" I closed my mouth when I realized I didn't need to explain myself and my acne.

"Beauty is pain," she said, nodding her head. "Beauty is pain."

I smiled awkwardly at her. "Yeah."

"Beauty is pain," she repeated, still nodding.

What was this girl doing?

Her name was Fallon, and she was the shortest person in the class. She was also popular at school, but that's because she didn't leave a guy she did not hook up with. On the other hand, she was still very sweet and kind.

She stood next to me, washing her hands, but she was still smiling. "Beauty is pain and there's beauty in everything."

Then, the song immediately started playing in my head. Beauty is pain and there's beauty in everything. What's a little bit of hunger? I could go a little while longer; she fades away.

This song held meanings that people had to listen closely to, even if all the words were clear. It had a different message than other songs, and she knew exactly how to send the message.

Beauty is pain. But, is there beauty in everything?

My sister's voice takes me back to reality when I hear her sob next to me. I am not one to comfort someone when they cry, because I do not know how to comfort a baby to comfort a teenager.

I look at her with confusion, because I know she's always been this moody and is always sad, but she's sobbing like someone died.

I sit up from the bed, placing my phone on the bed. I stare at her, hesitant to ask her if she's okay or what happened.

"Shut up," I say, but soon to realize that these two words are the last thing she wants to hear.

I feel bad for Maddie, so I don't even know why I said that.

"You shut up!" She looked up at me with red eyes, standing up and heading to the bathroom. She locks herself in the bedroom, and I go back to my phone.

Instagram restarts itself, so another post of another girl comes up, but this time it's her and a boy in front of a Christmas tree, and the caption says, "it's Christmas in June."

I scroll down without liking the post, and a post of Harry Styles pops up. Shirtless lying on the grass, looking up at the camera. The caption says, "baby, you're the end of June."

What's up with people with June?

A week left for my birthday, and I am finally turning eighteen. This is why I love June, only this year.

I grin, leaving the bedroom. I face my mother, who stands in front of me. "Where is your sister?"

"She's in the bathroom," I tell her, walking past her. I am in a good mood, and I don't want to ruin my mood at all.

She usually is the reason behind all my mood swings, but she stops me when I reach the middle of the stairs.

"Your uncle is coming!" She informs me, and I turn around, whining like a baby. "Do not start, please. You know I have to invite him, he's always going to be my brother."

He's always going to be your brother, but he's always going to be an asshole. He abuses his wife, he hits his kids and he always tries to be the hero when he's the villain.

He once tried to hit his wife in our house, and dad wanted to call the cops on him, but he didn’t want to grasp the attention of the neighbors and ruin his reputation.

I wanted to call the cops on him, because I was one of those women who was against men. It’s enough they mistreated women in the past, so enough is enough! Women, we need to stand up to those animals.

They had been dragging us down to rise above without us, and they have the audacity to lay hands on us.

Any woman who accepts that kind of behavior is a woman who shouldn’t be called a woman.

I want to tell my mom instead of being silent, “What if he hits us or hits you? How do you bring a predator into the house?” But I don’t say anything.

I continue making my way down the stairs, and I hate that she was able to ruin my mood.

I skip the last two stairs, and look to my left to see the kitchen. I hum the song ‘eighteen’ by one direction as I open the fridge to grab a drink.

Our kitchen is not my favorite place, because it is so green and green makes me puke.

I start to dance to my humming, and get too excited for next week. A month ago, I started looking for a place to stay at, and I found an apartment with a girl, who was looking for a roommate.

I had enough money to pay six months worth of rent, and I was planning to find a job as soon as I moved there.

I am thinking of continuing my studies like almost everyone else, but I am not smart to get a scholarship, or not rich to pay for it.

So, I can always work to get money, but it’s going to take time.

I want to focus on my dream only, which is to get out of this house as soon as possible, even if I want to continue my studies.

I want to continue my education, but I can’t afford it and I am not going to ask my parents for money. After all, I am planning to leave the house.

I take a bottle of water from the drive, and my eyes move to the bottle of wine. I have this urge to try it, but I will be kicked out before I can leave.

“What are you doing?” I jump and turn around to face my cousin, Amber. I close my eyes, and imagine me running to one of the drawers; and grabbing a knife and stab her.

I open my eyes to see her smiling at me like a stupid elephant. “Scare me like that again, I dare you. I want to try the wine.”

Amber’s eyes widen. “I did not know you were this sneaky.”

I roll my eyes, closing the fridge. I open the water bottle, and walk out of the kitchen. She follows behind me, and I greet my aunt, who’s placing her bag on the couch, which is under the stairs.

“Ella, how are you?” Aunt says as she takes the three steps that takes her to our living room. It’s not big, but it has a big TV screen, which I like the most.

The sofas take a lot of space of the room, but what’s the point of the living room if it’s empty, right?

There are two windows, but they are half hidden from the sofas. We cannot open the window across from the TV, because the curtains are closed. However, the window to the right is always open, but the view isn’t as great.

When you look out of the window, you can see the cars. We don’t have a garage. Well, you can call it a garage, but it’s a car park.

The color of the living room is strange. It’s painted beige, but with faded red circles on them.

“So, next week is your birthday and the after is your graduation,” my aunt reminds me, so I fake a dance to pretend I am happy.

I am happy, but I don’t want them to know that.

“I guess I can’t wait,” I shrug as I stop.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t go to prom,” my other cousin’s voice appears behind me, so I turn around to face her. Unlike Amber, Sabrina was short but she was two years older than Amber.

“Yeah, yeah,” I say as if it is a big deal. It’s a prom that students go to, to forget about reality. Some students have fun, and some students hate it. Well, some students don’t have anyone to go with, even friends.

“Let’s go to the mall,” Amber suggests. “I need to go to Sephora, and maybe we can walk around.”

I nod. “That’s not a bad idea. I also want to go to the bookstore, so maybe we will stop there too.”

*

A week later.

Amber:

Happy birthday, Ella!

Sabrina:

Happiest birthday, Ella! My baby cousin is growing up!

I smile at the messages, and reply back thank you’s before I turn off the phone. As I am walking down the stairs, I come face to face to my mother.

“I have something to tell you,” I smile, holding her hand as I lead her to the living room, where my dad is sitting.

“What?” Dad furrows his eyebrows at me, eating a piece of chocolate.

“I didn’t want to tell anyone before I tell you, and I guess since I turned eighteen today, I have to tell you that I am moving out next week,” I grin as I inform them, thinking that they’re probably going to be happy that I am finally moving out of this house.

One less kid to pay things for- isn’t that a news that every parent wishes for? Especially when they don’t like their kids.

“What?!” Dad stands up, throwing the chocolate onto the couch. “What do you mean you’re moving out?”

“I found an apartment in Los Angeles,” I inform him. “It’s two hours away from here, but I’ll come visit almost every weekend.”

Nope.

“You do realize that we live in San Diego, right?” Mom raises her eyebrows, taking a seat where dad is standing.

“If you think you’re moving out, you’re out of your mind!” Dad yells.

“I am,” I nod. “You can’t stop me. I am eighteen, and this is America!”

“Well, you’re not American, Ella!” He argues back.

“I know, but you chose to live here! You chose to bring mom here when you met her, and not me!” I try not to raise my voice, since he’s my father but still, I can’t help it.

“What about university? You know you have to go there,” Mom points out.

If I ever want to go to a university, I am not thinking of a university in San Diego.

“Didn’t university of California San Diego accept you?” Mom tilts her head.

“And so did university of California, which is in Berkeley,” I inform them, staring at their faces.

“And you’re moving to Los Angeles,” Mom sighs. “Ella, you are attending the university here.”

“I want to attend a university,” I emphasize the word ‘a’ to their attention. “I do not want to attend a university in San Diego. I don’t want to stay here.”

Dad sighs. “Your brother lives here. Why don’t you?”

“I am not my brother.”

“Okay, I have a deal,” Dad says, sitting down next to my mom. “You will attend the university of California, and I will pay for it, pay for your dorm, but every holiday, every break, every free time you have, you come here.”

“Dad, this-”

How am I going to come to San Diego every time I am free?

“Do you agree?”

“Okay.”

***