Work In Progress |L.T| |A.U|

II - Atkins

II - Atkins

What a pitiful mess!

I can't help but laugh at the useless scum staring back at me from the other side of the mirror as I sit in my bedroom. Wild hair, not showered for five days, my clothes now have these darks cotton balls from wearing them too much, but it's not like I care.

You know what? I deserved this, every single bit of it. What was I thinking? As if a worthless waste of space like me could actually help save the environment. Should've listened to my parents and have done an MBA or something, should've gotten a real job. I've contemplated picking up the damned phone and telling my parents about my present situation; to tell them Aurora Lillian Atkins, daughter of the Maxwell Atkins and the Cassandra Atkins, is a complete failure. The outcome would be my mum's continuous ramblings of 'I told you so's and my dad possibly coming all the way to London to drag my ass back to Wales and make me work in his company.

Being the only child of the Atkins family has its perks, I agree. You get treated as a Welsh royalty; you get everything in a silver platter, literally. But then again, the expectations are just too much. Since I was a little girl, I was expected to attain the greatness that my father achieved, to be the prodigy that my father was. It all got too suffocating and that's why I came here, in London. Here, you are your own self, not someone's daughter, or sister or whatever the fuck everyone else tells you. You will only be treated as royalty if you earn it.

Pffft...... guess where that got me?

Fired, because my work wasn't exactly yielding anything and dumped since I was so hopeless that my boyfriend lost hope in the entire female population.

Gotta put that in my CV so they can fire my worthless ass from the next job I try for.

The incessant buzz coming from my phone makes me reach out to grab it. 1% battery. When is the last time I recharged this thing again? Never mind.

I focus in the newly received text:

From Nikki: Open your door.

I sigh, looking back at the mirror.

Do you know what the worst kind of pain is? It's when your own tears don't fall for you. Your insides are crumbling, reaching out for something... anything to hold on to. There's this weight pressing against your heart, but your lachrymal glands betray you and you're left with this fucking heavy feeling that just won't go.

I sigh, feeling every bit of me fall apart, all the pain that I've felt for the past five days and then I look back at the mirror, take a deep breath and then do something I'm best at doing; plaster the biggest and most fake smile I can muster.

Throwing the phone over the bed, I drag myself to open the door for one of my best friends.

"What the hell happened here?" that's her reaction when she first steps into my flat. "Oh my days... Rory, when is the last time you cleaned?" when she runs her pointer through the armrest on my couch, there's a thin film of dirt on her finger. I simply shrug walking back to my room. Bobbie is hot on my heels, following shortly. "What's up with your hair? Rory, why do you smell like a dead raccoon?"

"Shut up!" I groan jumping back on my bed. I bury my face in the pillow keeping both my hands on the back of my head.

"Seriously Rory, you got fired and dumped, life hasn't ended." I feel the bed dip, "Stop this. Did you call Liam?"

"Ugh! Don't remind me." I mumble against the fabric of the pillow

"You did! What'd he say?"

Why is she acting like a hyperactive bunny? I lift my head (only a bit) to have a proper look at her.