I have everything a girl could want. Looks, style, money...
My life has been mapped out for me. I strive off of control.
I have a plan: get through school, go to Oxford, thrive as a businesswoman, get married (hopefully to someone I love - but tha...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Miss Tiffany"
"You need to wake up, dear."
"Please wake up, c'mon, love."
"Uhm... your cat died?"
I shoot up into an upright position. My sleep mask still over my eyes. I push it up into my forehead and rub my eyes. "Dave died?!"
Cathy's jaw drops and an alarmed expression overtakes her old features. "No, Miss. Dave didn't die. It's just... you didn't wake up. I am so terribly sorry, miss. Please don't tell your Father."
I run a hand through my hair, "oh."
I fall back onto the bed and close my eyes, tugging the silk covers closer. Septembers just started and it's already started getting a lot colder.
My eyes shoot open, "wait...what time is it, Cathy?"
"Uh...it's 7:50am, Miss." Cathy's voice has a nervous edge to it.
My eyes widen.
Fuck fuck fuck
We get registered at 8:40am.
And I always get to school at 8:25am. It's crucial I do.
I climb out of bed and rush to the chair in the corner of my room which has my clothes laid out.
Cathy leaves the room and apologises once more.
I get changed out of my pajamas and into my sixth form clothes for the day. A black mini skirt, Chanel tights, a grey, knitted sweater. I don't bother changing my jewellery for the day, I just keep the same earrings in that I was wearing yesterday.
I look at the makeup sprawled out on my desk.
Do I do my makeup or be later?
Makeup or later? Makeup? Be late?
Oh my god oh my god oh my god
I don't know what to do?!
The door to my room opens and Cathy walks in with a tray of fruit on. I examine what's on the tray and see that there's no croissant.
There's always a croissant
"Cathy, did we run out of croissants?" I say, scanning the tray in her hands three times more.
I don't want to sound like a brat, but if you haven't guessed already, I'm a little bit of a control freak...
Okay, maybe a massive control freak.
So when things change, I freak.
"Your Mother told me to stop serving croissants to you for breakfast. Then said some things about.. never mind."
