Scarred

Chapter 1

I fiddled with my bracelet, thinking of the things that could go wrong. I never travelled outside London and now I'm moving.

'Y/n, are you finished yet'? I heard my father yell from downstairs.

'Yes, father'! I called back. I grabbed my bags and started to head downstairs.

My mother touched up her makeup, looking into that little round mirror of hers. She cared too much about her appearance and especially mine.

My father's assistant helped us pack and put all the bags in the car to drive to the airport.

On the jet, I stood in the middle with my violin at hand, playing what my father told me to play. He stood next to me, leaning on an armrest.

'Is this how you're planning on failing'? He asked after I finished.

'No father'. He straightened, holding the ruler.

'Hand'.

I made no objections. I complied with pulling up my sleeve to expose my right wrist to five strikes from the ruler.

'Can you even fathom how much I've put into you? Your career, your future. This is how you plan to repay me. You show up to this new college, shaming yourself, shaming me'.

'No father. I won't disgrace you', I said.

When we reached Paris, we stayed in a hotel called Le Grand Paris that was owned by the mayor, André Bourgeois.

I took a shower and stared at my right wrist. Red lines were drawn across it. Lines that stung under the water.

'Y/n'. There was a knock on the bathroom door. 'Are you in there whimpering again or is it just me'?

'No mother, you're just hearing things', I said, grabbing my arm.

After my shower, I went to my room and wrote in my journal.

'Paris, oh my-' Luna exclaimed. 'I heard a lot of things about this place'.

'What have you heard'?

'That there's great food, nice people, sometimes and great deserts'. I laughed.

'You always had a sweet tooth. Wanna go exploring, Luna'?

'Sure do'. I laughed. She flew into my jacket and I opened the window, jumping out and sliding down the gutter pipe.

The cold night breeze flowed through my hair as I ran around Paris, exploring.

'I should get something to eat, I'm kinda hungry'.

'Yeah and especially your mother doesn't let you eat much. Salad for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Not cool. We eat meat'. I laughed. I looked further ahead of me and saw a man with an ice cream chart.

'Look, we can get some ice cream'.

'Ice cream is not food'. I laughed.

'We'll get food later'. I ran to the chart with a smile on my face.

'Hello, my dear. You are new. What is your name'? I rubbed the back of my neck.

'Y/n L/n, sir'. He gasped and looked in shock.

'The model'? I nodded. He smiled.

'I am André. The sweetheart match maker'. I raised an eyebrow.

'But I don't have anyone'.

'No need. Eventually someone will'. He turned. 'Peach pink like his lips and blueberry like his eyes, eat this, my dear and your love will materialise'. I smiled.

'Thank you'. I walked down the stairs and gave Luna a taste. She laughed.

'Yummy'.

'Okay, now for some real food'. I walked around eating my ice cream.

I was surprised that André knew me. I mean, I don't know if I'm well known around the world. I only know that I'm well known in London.

I got some pizza as that was the only thing I was familiar with and I snuck back to the hotel. At that moment, there was a knock in the door. My father's assistant, Aida came in.

'Your father wanted to make sure you practice your piano notes before bed'. I nodded.

'Yes, Aida'.

'I'll be here in the morning to go over your schedule for tomorrow'. I nodded.

At the moment, it's just note reading for my piano lessons but soon, when we have somewhere permanent to stay, I will have a new piano soon.

After that, I laid in my bed and thought what tomorrow at the new college will be like. I was always pushed beyond my limits.

Violin and piano lessons, guitar lessons, secretly. Modelling, photoshoots, fashion shows and maybe if I'm lucky, I'll have fencing and swimming lessons too like back in London before I left.

I never really had time for myself or friends. I only had one, he lived he actually.

He was boring and showed no emotion. Fun wasn't in his dictionary either. His name is Armistead Stuart and he was obsessed with me.