With Eyes that Glow

Chocolate Fixes (Almost) Everything

Sydney POV:

I woke up in the morning with a face full of glue. And than was only the beginning of my horrible day. My fingers gently floated up to my cheeks, skimming their surface. Not glue, as I first thought, but dried tears. That's when I remembered why I was crying in the first place.

You see, when I was in first grade, I was bullied left and right. As the new kid, my peers looked for something to call me out on, and the biggest call I could ever have were my purple eyes. Up until then, I was proud of how special they were. I thought they made me a beautiful princess, and that my friends (or those soon to be) would love them. But the reactions of every first-grader in Silent Brook Elementary broke my innocent little heart. They called me Faker, because they were sure my eye color was, you know, fake. First-grader's aren't very creative. Some of the more extreme ones would jab my eyes, saying that they were trying to get the colored contacts to 'come out'. One tried using a pencil to dig my 'fake' iris out of my eye once. That's when my parents finally caved and bought me brown contacts (since a brown-eyed daughter is better than a blind one). But now, apparently, they changed their minds, probably reasoning that my grade was more mature now. Of course, I didn't trust them after the many pencil incidents.

I snapped out of my thoughts, finding myself sitting cross-legged on my bed, glaring at the cheerful rays of sunshine that beamed through my window. The stained glass originated from Ceylon*, a little country that doesn't exist anymore. Yeah, the house is that old. The glass itself depicts an angel, with long golden hair, closed eyes, and ruby red lips turned up in a smile. A white gown billowed around her form, and her arms were raised to her head, steadying a small silver crown. On her left side, a sun shone, outlined by a perfect blue sky. On the right side, the moon reigned strong, littering the inky sky with pinpricks of starry light. The scene was beautiful, but I was in no mood for beauty right now. All I could think of is how she didn't have to deal with anything like this.

Grumbling, I pulled myself out of bed. I briskly walked over to the window, almost yanking the curtains off of their rings as I pulled them shut. 

The rest of the day flew by, filled with reading, eating chocolate from my emergency stash, ignoring the begging from my parents to come out of my room (I had swiped their spare key before I went to sleep), and thinking up a storm of responses for the argument that was sure to come.

By the time I had finally worked up the nerve to talk to my parents, it was around 8:30 PM. I silently unlocked the door, tiptoeing down the hallway and towards the stairs. When I heard whispers, I stopped in my tracks.

I couldn't tell one voice from another,  but they all sounded cheerful. A laugh bubbled up among the chaos rising to my ears. So they were meeting with friends. That was it. I turned heel and stormed to my room, not wanting the mystery person to start asking questions about my eye color. That would start up the whole 'Faker' thing again, and believe me, that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

I quietly stepped into my room and shut the door, pretending like I didn't exist.

Why would they have a party? Not many of our neighbors were on friendly terms with my parents (or on bad terms, but that's beside the point). So who could it be? Was there one person or five? 

I froze when the whispers raised in volume. There was a shout, then a loud crash, then the most horrifying thing of all.

Silence.

*Dodges array of pointy objects*

OKAY OKAY I'M SORRY! I should have updated this sooner, but I didn't 'cause I was busy.

I would say 'So sue me', but a few of you might take that as an invitation. And yes, *Ceylon was actually a real country. :)

Yours truly,

MarineD