Jane |18+| ✔️

1. The time I met my breaking Point

The buzzing of a mosquito constantly swarming around my head is not the only souring thought passing through it. As I lie in bed, thinking of all the reasons not to get up and face the looming, horrible day ahead, I slap my temple once more, ending the cat-and-mouse game I've played with the pesky insect for the past half hour.

With an exasperated huff of annoyance, I flip the covers back, swiving my body to a mid-sit position, before anchoring my feet on the sweltering hot wooden floors—the humming of music and power tools filters in through the garage below. Usually, the sounds and scents of rubber didn't bother me, but today it does.

Padding to the only private room of my studio apartment, I close and lock the door before spinning to face myself in the mirror. The person staring back at me makes the pains in my abdomen worsen. Unable to look myself in the eye a moment longer, I turn, twisting the taps in the tub/shower combo before squeezing a dollop of paste on my toothbrush. With a quick strip, I step under the warm spray, counting to thirty-three while scrubbing my teeth. With a spit to the drain, I rinse my mouth before counting to one hundred and fifty-three, enjoying the lukewarm stream before reaching for the watered-down bottle of Pantene.

Counting two-hundred and thirty-three next, I scrub the mediocre suds into my scalp and long dark locks before taking the shard of Ivory – that once was a lavish bar of soap – and lather my body the best way I can. The remaining mushy substance practically evaporates when it meets my pale, milky skin scattered with gazillions of freckles. Pulling the suds from my hair, I finish the job the best way I can before rinsing in the now icy, cold water... losing track of my counting once again.

The hour only gets worse as I struggle to detangle my hair, rip the last pair of work-issued tights on the heels of my cracked skin, and drop my lucky earring down the kitchen drain, making me late... again. With my mood all but defeated, I swing open the door to see the taped 'evicted' sign. This day just gets better and better. Pulling the warning off the weatherbeaten splinter of a relic, I crumple it up, tossing it on the tiny table for one—alongside the other past-due notices.

With that, I slam the door, locking it and proceed to live the same day as I have for the last two years – with one minor difference, I can't help the tiny grin that passes my lips. It's funny when you think about it. I wasn't some small-town girl – no, I grew up in suburbia hell and was well respected amongst most. I wasn't the shy, loner girl – I was the observer who often foolishly picked the wrong moments to speak - with no remorse. I wasn't the most beautiful, popular, rich girl who was now down on her luck looking for prince charming to swoop in and save me from harm's way - I never would expect that. I didn't come from a bad upbringing or was orphaned at a young age - I am loved by those who mattered. I was none of those iconic people with stories that could make you cry, laugh, or feel—I was just...

Jane.

Hardworking, blue-collar parents raised me. A melting pot of ethnicity not belonging to one particular racial group. I only spoke English and maintained decent grades in high school. I wasn't anything special. I had no hidden talent or deficiency—I was just...

Jane.

Checking my watch, I pick up speed while practically twisting my ankle in the work-issued three-inch heels. While I rushed to work on the already flooded sidewalks of downtown Pineton - the most extensive metropolitan area in the country - I reflect, as I often do, on my lacklustre life. With my mother and father only a 30-minute train ride away, I thought that living in the city would make me happy and that I would find my niche. My people. My fit.

In fact, it's done the complete opposite. I've all but given up, resigning myself to the mundane lifestyle I was destined to live. To work side-by-side with my parents as we clean modest industrial businesses such as banks, grocery stores and alike after everyone is tucked snuggly away for the night in their beds. It's honest work and will aid me in getting out of the mess I've ignorantly created for myself.