Sunday 31st July
I guess there's no hope. I'm no dancer like mum wanted. I already disappointed dad when I couldn't make it as a model for a child's fashion catalogue. I feel useless. I don't what I can do. Oh wait, yes I do... NOTHING. Diary, you're the only one I can talk to. My friends at school aren't real friends. Well, they certaintly don't act like it. And no boy likes me at school. I might as well not be there!! I'm no use to anybody.
Just take me away, somewhere, I don't CARE. I don't want to be here. I want to be ALONE.
I put a full-stop at the end of my sentence and shut the book fiercely. I didn't see the point in writing in my diary anymore. I've been writing in it ever since I was 7 years old. I'm 15 now. It clearly hasn't helped me with 'getting my emotions out', as mum would say. I don't feel any better.
"Julie, dinner!" I hear mum call. I walk downstairs to the kitchen. We have a pretty big house. Actually, it's very big. I love the kitchen the best. It's arched wall that leads you into the magical scent of home baking. The marble floor that gives you a nice cold rush through your body on Summer's days. "Ah, there you are." My mum turns round from her seat to look at me. She's dressed in a grey suit and her hair is in a neat bun. Her red glasses match her red kitten heels. She looks wonderful. She makes me look like a monster. Dad is dressed in his messy white t-shirt and his scruffy jeans. Complete difference.
Mum is a fashion designer and dad works on a building site. They are both very successful. Dad is even thinking of setting up his own business. As you can tell, we are rich. But I hate being rich. I know, it sounds silly, but I do. Before mum had her big break in the fashion career and dad picked up his work ethic, we were normal people. Now we were the talk of the town. We ate at fancy restaurants that really weren't my style. Mum and dad expected me to be one of those rich girls, you know, the egotistical ones who admire their appearances more than anything else. I really didn't fit in. I couldn't dance. I couldn't model. I just couldn't do anything. Well, nothing that met my parent's standards.
I wolfed my dinner down and went back upstairs to my room. I flipped open my laptop and went onto my email. Before I logged in, I noticed there was a news report about someone being abducted. The picture caught my attention. Two men dressed in full black, with only their eyes on show, were looking into a CTV camera. They were swearing. The picture wasn't completely clear, but it was clear enough for me to make out the amount of fingers they were holding. They looked scary. One of them had a full head of hair; ringlets of black hair crept out of the black mask, and I was sure the other one was bald. The image was terrifying. I quickly clicked the Login button and shrugged the thought out of my mind.
Monday mornings were always so hectic. Mum rushed about to make sure I got my lunch in my bag before she went. I had a terrible memory, I'd forget it was packed in the fridge. Dad set off either very early in the morning or very late in the morning. Today he left early, so mum had to do all the washing up. She hated it. She didn't want to ruin her nails. I felt slightly annoyed with her moaning, so I took over. She ran out of the door in a flash. I finished clearing up and got my spare key ready to lock the door. I hauled my side bag over my shoulder. I love my bag. It was a black polkadot design with a pink ribbon tied around it. A few fluffy baubles hung around it.
I set off down the road. My school was about 6 roads away. It took me about 15-20 minutes. I stopped off at the shop down my road. I bought a magazine and began reading it whilst I was walking. I flicked through some pages and saw gorgeous pictures of Zac Efron, Harry Judd, Robert Pattinson, all these amazing celebrities. I'd always imagined meeting them one day and they'd instantly fall in love with me. I thought meeting them would definitely happen, but it most likely wouldn't. I wanted to meet Robert Pattinson the most, but I'll never be going to America. Mum hated travelling. The only holidays we have are ones in Scotland, Wales, Ireland and occasionally France.
I was walking through an alleyway now. I always hurried down here when I had to take this route; it was quicker and I was later than usual.
I'd noticed something very uncanny for a while now. Since I'd left the shop, I'd felt someone watch me. I couldn't physically see anyone, but I felt someone. I really did. I began to walk faster on the cobbled floor. I was about to turn round, when it was too late. Darkness fell upon me. My head was covered by a sack that felt rough against my face and smelt of cigars. I tried to open my mouth and scream, but I felt a forceful hand on the outside of the sack hold my mouth. I couldn't pull away. I couldn't do anything. The smell of the cigars was so strong I was almost passing out. Just as I felt my body be lifted up into a horizontal shape, my consciousness was gone.