Luxury ✔️

01 | Chapter one

Chapter 1 | the start

" half of the world is starving;
the other half is trying to lose weight "

L U X U R Y

Everyone wants money.

Imagine not having to check the price tag of something you adored in a store, or drinking champagne as if it was water. Imagine not knowing how to drive but have three cars waiting patiently for you to learn?

Never having to do the dishes or the laundry sounds like a dream to most of us.

And, don't lie. Just the thought of knowing some people are just born into this world with all of that, makes us angry. All of us.

Some people work for it, and they do deserve our respect. But the ones who are just born with it all? No. They're the ones we call lucky. One percent of the population. One in a hundred. That's lucky.

Most of us wish for that on our birthdays, eyelashes, and dandelions. Most of us die working to achieve our common dream.

Then what happens if you have it all... but you don't need it?

Maybe you can call yourself unthankful.

Maybe, I should call myself stupid.

I stood up from the comfortable couch, watching as the foam covered by an expensive skin slowly take its normal form. I watched it carefully, feeling the soft white fabric. Animal skin, definitely. Maybe a white tiger, or even a white panda. Maybe a polar bear? I shook my head with disbelief.

Who has the courage, the heart, to kill an animal?

The average American steps on 14.600 ants per year, depending on the location, weather, etc. but that's not a lot is it? Yes, it is. My heart throbs a little more each time I think that people hunt, kill, and mistreat animals for fun, as a hobby and for money.

"Quinn!" Elizabeth grits her white teeth at me.

I swiftly turn my head around and straighten up my posture. "Yes?"

She smiles when she has my attention, then twirls her tall and skinny body, showing off the pink dress she was about to buy. "What do you think?"

I look at the dress for a little while. "No." I look back up at her. "It's too..." I try to find the right word to not make her upset.

Elizabeth is the type of girl who overthinks way too much. Say one word wrong and she might not talk to you for weeks, taking it completely the wrong way. She holds a grudge on you for longer than you can possibly imagine. But she's always been like that, and as the years passed, she turned out to be a little more patient with me, since, according to her, I speak without thinking twice—something incredibly inappropriate and arrogant.

I lick my dry lips, "Cheap." I lie.

But it was too pink.

If I had said that, she would ask why I thought of that. And then I'd have to explain to her, thinking twice about every word I say, that she looked like Barbie–which she would probably take it as an insult anyway.