Life in Pink

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: November 13, 2017

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Submitted: November 13, 2017



Life in Pink


She woke up to the sounds of her usual mornings and started the day by forcing herself to sleep. Her morning melody is a symphony of her dog’s barking, bouncing of a ball in their backyard basketball court, sound of the engine of the motorcycle passing by, and the cock-a-doodle-doo of her dad’s fighting cocks.


Most people wake up from a nightmare. She wakes up into it.  Every morning, this wake-up calls remind her that she has to survive another day in that house. The thought made her tear up. It’s just easier if she cries. She will be able to resist the urge to scream and it’ll be easier for her to sleep. Her pillows are still damp from her crying until 4 am and the dark mist is back again. Here comes another river.


She covered her ears with her pillows and realized she cannot breathe. The mucus is blocking her nose. She rummaged through her backpack and found her earphones. These would block out all the noise. A pop rock song about a love song was playing and eventually, she was lulled to sleep. She woke up at around 11:30. She tried to listen through the door if anyone’s in the living room. The TV wasn’t on, so they must be somewhere else in the house. She tiptoed towards the bathroom to take a quick bath. She took her time in the comfort room. It’s the time of the day when she can hear absolutely nothing from anywhere in the house. Once she turned the faucet on, the room was filled with the sound of the running water. With all that noise, there can be a car crash outside and she’ll still be undisturbed. This actually already happened years ago. There was a car which drove to their gate while she was in the bathroom. She didn’t realize the accident until she went out of the bathroom and heard the commotion of her neighbors.


After her shower, she heard that someone turned the TV on. She can hear the news. It’s dad. She hurriedly went back to her room and dressed herself in shirt and comfy pants. She went to the kitchen trying not to look where the living room is. She doesn’t want to meet anyone’s gaze there. She drank a glass of water and cooked herself garlic fried rice, an egg, and hotdogs. She went back to her room.


What should I watch? What should I watch? She opened her ‘Friends’ folder and closed her eyes. She pointed randomly at the screen and picked Season one. She then watched ‘The One with the Thumb’. She must have watched every episode for at least thrice already.  Oh my gosh, I’m really pathetic. She put on her earphones and ate her brunch there.


What’s next? Her favorite artist posted another challenge on her page. The participants must paint a phrase in foreign language. She decided on the phrase first.  La vie en rose. Since she paints flowers very well, she painted roses as background on her watercolor paper, then started doing the calligraphy of the phrase. She heard sizzles in the kitchen.  Mom must’ve started cooking for lunch. After finishing her artwork, she carefully arranged her diary, paintbrushes, pens, and artwork on her bed and took a flatlay photo.


Murmurs were back in the kitchen. She also heard giggles and laughter. Someone shouted.


“Hey! It’s lunchtime! Go tell your sister it’s lunchtime.”


She answered, “I’m full!”


“With what? Water?”


“Yes!” I walk from the kitchen to my room carrying a plate and a pitcher. Didn’t he see me?


“Okay. Do as you want.” And just like that, their lunch started.


She watched the movie, ‘La Vie en Rose’ and slept afterwards. She heard the murmurs again and they were closer this time. It’s her mom and her aunt. They were talking. They sound mad. Who are they talking about?


“She’s so lazy! She doesn’t even HELP in the house and she doesn’t get out of her room!”


Her aunt tried to say some nice things about her. She was filled with anger now. Do they know I can hear them? They must be. They’re just outside my room!


“You’re lucky with your kids. They always follow your orders and they help inside the house.”


“Yes, but your daughter gets high grades. Isn’t that good enough?”


She was walking back and forth in her room and balling her eyes out. She screamed in her pillow.  Shut up! Shut up! She tried watching her movie but they’re too close to her room. She can still hear them. She wanted to do something. Anything.  She bumped her head to her wall, but it made a noise. They’ll know what she’s doing. She punched herself in the face and the buzzing in her ear oddly numbed her pain and stopped her from listening to the murmurs outside. She did it again but she was afraid it’ll leave a bruise. They might notice it. She went to her dresser and looked for something. She didn’t know what it was, but she kept looking. Sharp. Anything sharp.  The only thing she found was her eyebrow trimmer. It was sharp, alright. She accidentally nicked her nose when she was shaping her eyebrows one time and her hand had slipped. It’s enough to cut her wrist.


She was badly trembling, and her tears blurred her vision. She pressed the blade against the skin on her wrist. She has thin skin and felt the piercing pain. Will I really do this? I won’t die from this. I should cut a major artery.  She transferred the blade to the skin behind her knee. She was crying too hard. Am I crazy? Am I ready to die? What if I just leave? She removed the blade but accidentally cut herself. She wiped the drop of blood on the bedsheet. She cried harder. Why can’t I feel anything? She then returned the blade to her wrist. She was too afraid to actually do a slicing motion, so she just pressed the blade. Damn you! Damn you! Why won’t all of you just die??!!


The silence stopped her. The murmurs are gone. How long has it been? She looked at where the blade had been and the wound it left wasn’t that deep. She didn’t even draw any blood. It’s not that sharp after all.


Her head felt heavy it seems like she’s surrounded by a dark thick heavy mist. She blindly went back to her bed and went back to sleep. She woke up a few hours later.


“Dinner’s ready!”

© Copyright 2018 Maia Stone. All rights reserved.

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