21 Days To Live

Day 1

Sunday
12:37 am

"You can find someone way better than me," the girl whispered in a delicate voice with unshed tears glistening in her eyes. "I'm not right-"

"Gemma, I'm trying to talk on the phone here," I told my thirteen year old daughter, interrupting her from watching one of her sappy love story tv shows.

My thirteen year old paused the show she had been watching, then turned her  head to the left to face me. She rolled her chocolate brown eyes at me like she always did, as though whatever I said was stupid.

"Go talk somewhere else then," she responded, boredom laced in her tone. "Can't you see I'm trying to watch tv here?"

I clutched my phone in my hands, anger instantly taking over my already irritated mood.

"I'll be there in half an hour Umar," I spoke into the phone, talking to my P.A.

Before he could respond I disconnected the call, then clenched my jaw as I stared at Gemma, who seemed to be turning more disrespectful with each passing day.

"This is not the way to talk to your mother, young lady," I scolded, crossing my arms across my chest. "I'll send you to a boarding school if you don't learn any manners."

Gemma, unfazed by my words, stood up from her seat on the sofa, stretching her arms upwards..

"Anything would be better than this place. You're basically never home, and when you are, you're either yelling at me or fighting with dad," she snapped, then stomped her way out the living room. "Learn how to be a mother and then there might be a chance I might learn to be more respectful towards you," she added, her voice slowly fading away.

"You're grounded, Gemma," I shouted after her, even though it was pointless. "Until you don't learn some manners I don't want you watching tv anymore."

She didn't know the troubles I had to face everyday. Not only did I have her to take care of, but I had to live with a husband who was good for nothing, deal with my mother's constant appearance and on top of all that I was the CEO of a very successful media company.

5:53 pm

"Mom I told you I can't make it this week," I said to my mom for the hundredth time that day.

Mom crossed her arms across her chest, just like I always did when Gemma and I would talk.

I had my evening perfectly planned, hoping that I would be able to finish up all my work, and finally be able to rest for a while. However, that all changed when my mother decided to show up uninvited to my office, when I refused to answer her calls.

Was it really my fault that I decided to ignore her after listening to her annoy me to no extent while I tried working?

"Myra, it's been a long time since you last came to a family dinner," she started her voice too sweet for my ears. "Everyone just wants to spend time with you and your husband and daughter."

I glanced towards the resumes placed on my desk for a new journalist for the current issues section, quickly scanning through them to find a suitable person for the job. Someone better than the last idiotic one I had to fire.

Umar had left me with the top four to choose from out of the thirty people that had applied. This only supported my statement of how unintelligent and useless people had started to get nowadays.

"Why don't you ask Rome and Gemma yourself if they want to come," I mumbled, ignoring the dramatic sigh that left her mouth. "And I know that you're the only one who wants me at that dinner next Sunday. Everyone else would be happy to not have me there."

It was when we were young that I had began to drift away from my family and into my own world. I would have arguments with my parents each day, which caused me to defy all their rules and do things the way I wanted them to be. We argued over the smallest things, and if that wasn't enough my siblings were used to bringing me down.

They were always considered better than me as children, yet all that only motivated me to become who I was today. I was leading a more successful life then them all; something I would never let them forget.

"But-"

I threw the papers on my table, my eyes flickering over to my mom with anger.

"I'm busy," I snapped. "Could you please leave and let me handle all this? I've already told you I'm busy, and there's nothing you could do to change my mind."

My mom's shoulder's slumped in defeat, the smile that had been gracing her features gone as she exited the room. For a moment I felt a pang of guilt settle at the pit of my stomach, but before I could think anything of it, it was gone.

After a while of silence, I pressed my intercom button, about to call in for one of the top four candidates for the job. Yet, before that could be possible, the journalist I had recently fired barged into my room.

Aneway Redford's face was fuming red, her hair a bird's nest on her head, as she stared at me with furious eyes.

"You can't just fire me!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. "I had only started working here a week ago."

"That's the thing," I started, rolling my eyes. "It had only been a week and you already took a leave. Who even let you into my office? Security!"

"One of my relatives is sick, Mrs. Wisconsin. They could possibly die," she remarked, her tone of voice softer than before.

I stood up from my chair, running a hand through my hair.

"Well at least they will be free from this world. Trust me dying could be one of the best thing a person could go through," I stated, thinking back to how many times I had wished to die.

It was better than living the life I had today.

"Careful what you wish for," Aneway shouted just as security entered the room to escort her out. "You never know when you might end up dying. Maybe tomorrow or the day after, a week from now or even in twenty-one days' time."