Rich Boys Don't Have Hearts

21 | VIGINTI ET UNIUS

I WAS SUPPOSED TO WAIT BUT I CANNOT HELP IT. also, i'm very much turning 16 soon, i do not know if i'm happy or sad.

also, trigger warning :(( for the next few chapters ahead, i'm getting a little into a darker mood, so it has been tough for me to access these emotions. and i admit, a little hard to write too, but in some masochistic way, i like forming words to these emotions.

♕

WHEN I SAW RAPUNZEL ON MY EIGHT BIRTHDAY PARTY, I was in awe of her beautiful long, blonde hair that fell to the hem of her dainty purple dress like a waterfall deep in the woods found at golden hour. I remember the inkling feeling of envy, infectious as a drop of ink in clear water. That night I looked at the mirror and hated the slightest slant of my eyes, how there was only spots of green in them like patches of grass in dirt and not the special kind of green like the emerald glinting in the newborn sun after the long December winter; the darkness of my hair that felt so bland and boring and didn't gloss over, the tan of my skin. And when I was eleven someone told me it was unique, and it was beautiful. And that was the moment I smiled and started to believe it too.

Looking at the face of Carrie Ashley, my belief wavered.

Like Rapunzel, her golden blond hair fell over her soft and pale shoulders to her small waist. She was small-boned, like a doll. Her eyes, crystalline blue eyes are big and lovely, long lashes curling prettily. Her lips are naturally pink and heart-shaped. My imagination did her no justice, she was as beautiful and more.

"Oh, so you're her." A small smile was on her face, like it always was. Her eyes raked me up and down.

Ryder's girlfriend.

"Hello." I smile, I had to force it.

"How do you know Ryder?" She asks, her voice was as soft and velvety and as lovely as his.

I had to tilt my head lower to her level.

When I give an answer, I almost expect her too snide at me. Like many of the girl's in love with Ryder do, they call you names, tell other girls not to talk to you as if we were in middle school.

"Through a friend." I said.

I expected to feel the dreadful, I expect the hidden abyss of darkness in her voice that she doesn't show to anyone but her enemies, I expected my image of her to finally be ruined and crushed into a thousand unforgiving pieces.

But the only thing she did was nod, and smiled a little more. "Can I use the bathroom?"

My lips parted, but I nodded and slipped pass her.

As I walk away, my reflection on the Haskovsky glass cases, my heels clicking in the empty halls, I saw myself at eight years old.

I didn't expect to feel horrible.

-

I was in the living room as more people entered through the wide front door. I feel the continuous beat of the song in my heart, the sound blanketed me in a thrill and the only thing existed in the world was the song, the flashing lights, the bodies around me, and the four beers I was drinking.

Someone shouts, crowds gathered.

His hair flopped wildly, standing on the glass table with a killer smile was Nathan Miller, the King of parties.