Mia closed her curtains on the dark blue night and fell back on her bed trying not to cry. She had forgotten half of her dance because she was so tired and the press would probably blame her tiredness on drugs and pregnancy. When in fact she was just tired because she was awake all last night because a tree kept on tapping against her window in the breeze. Thank god the gardener was coming tomorrow to cut back the branches. She rubbed her neck gently. It felt like it had been scraped at with forks. She hated being a singer. She had been singing ever since she was tiny and together her father and her manager Annie had built up her career and now she was doing concerts every week for hundreds of screaming fans. It was too much. It was making her feel exhausted and she didn’t want to be a singer anymore. She had tried to tell her father that she wanted to quit but he wouldn’t listen. But in a year she would be eighteen and she would be able to quit singing for good. She just hoped she could wait that long. A wave of misery washed over her. She pulled the covers over her head and finally let the tears come. When she was done she closed her wet eyes and tried to get some sleep, ignoring the tapping of the trees branches against her window.
She woke up in a bad mood and it didn’t improve as the day went on. Her headache was so bad; it felt like her head was about to explode. On top of that she had to go to an autograph signing and autograph pictures of her for her hundreds of screaming fans. She wouldn’t actually mind having fan’s if they didn’t scream every time they saw her and if they didn’t over analyse every picture they found of her on the Internet. After that she had to go sing at some spoilt girl’s sweet sixteen. It was early evening before Mia finally got home and back to the sanctuary of her bedroom. Unlike the rest of the house her room wasn’t extravagant and covered with designer furniture. Her room was filled with vintage furniture she had found at discount prices. Her carpet was white, thick and fluffy. Her walls were painted white, pink, blue and purple, and during her rebellious phase when she was fourteen she had spray painted her name in giant black letters across her wall. Her father had begged her to paint over it but she had refused. Her bedroom was the one place in her life she had control over.
She glanced briefly at the picture on top if her bookshelf, and immediately regretted it. She bit her lip and tried to force back the tears that threatened to flood her eyes. It was a picture of her as a newborn baby with both her parents standing at either side of her smiling proudly at the camera. She had told herself again and again that she had to get rid of that picture but somehow she didn’t have the strength. It was probably the last moment of innocence and happiness her parents had shared together. A time when her mother hadn’t known she would die only a few days after giving birth to her first and only child. A time when the most important thing in her father’s life wasn’t his job. Mia didn’t know exactly what her father’s job was but it had something to do with running a business hiring out security guards. His job was the only thing he seemed to care about. Mia didn’t doubt that he loved her. He just never showed it. He always acted very distant around her. Mia thought that, on some level, her father blamed her subconsciously for her mother’s death. This thought saddened her.
She lay back on her bed and enjoyed the soft breeze blowing through her open window. She heard a slight tap against her window. She looked over and saw that a ladder had been placed under her window. She waited to see the familiar face of their gardener Joe. But instead a young man’s face appeared at the window. Hi. He said, grinning sheepishly. She screamed.
Authors Note: If enough people like this I’ll update. I already have half the second chapter written. Leave me a comment telling me if you like it. Thanks!
| Email this Novel
| Add to reading list