My alarm clock’s rings filled the room at 6am sharp. My hand finally found its way to it; My hand slammed down on it, silencing it at once. I slowly sat up, as if I were vampire waking up from her slumber. I let out an unusually loud yawn, which was followed by a sigh of discontent. Another Sunday morning… I could already hear the choir, practically. I used to look forward to these mornings. Church used to give me a reason, an outline to follow; recently I had been questioning my beliefs. Why were so many people willing to trust an old man who told them that he knew of god’s word, that the little black book that he kept in his hands, had the answer to everything? Were these people just scared? Scared that their purpose had somehow gotten lost on this vast earth, and were so desperate, that they would believe anything told to them… As long as it comforted their dying souls.
I closed my eyes, and decided that pondering the existence of god would have to wait till later, or else, I just might be late to church. I swung my small, fragile feet over the bed, and planted them on the cold wooden floor. The chill off the ground sent shivers up my spine. I slowly and lethargically started to walk to my mirror. I looked myself up and down… Same as always. So average…So plain. My body didn’t truly show who I was. I let my long black curly hair down from my messy pony tail. I took my brush and slowly started untangling my thick locks. I could hear my little brother screaming across the house while my mother tried to brush his teeth. They went through this every morning… “Ugh. Toddlers..” I thought to myself. I took a deep breath and walked to my door, emerging from my room. I shuffled my way to the bathroom. I opened the door, and quickly locked it behind me. Sometimes it was the only alone time I got. I started up a shower, making the water warm. I slowly lifted my shirt up, revealing my breasts…I turned away from my reflection. I couldn’t bear to look at myself. My mother always said that being 15 is hard… That it’s when you’re most critical of myself. I hoped that she was right… Life would be miserable if I had to go through the rest of my life not being able to look in the mirror while naked, much less, love myself. I stripped the rest of my body, leaving a small trail of clothes behind me to the shower. I stepped in carefully; I stepped directly under the water… I closed my eyes gently.. Sometimes if I pretended long enough, it would bring me back to being young and playing in thunder storms, and dancing in the rain. I didn’t have a care in the world back then… But then of course, my mind fighting itself would remind me of my average, yet so time consuming life. I opened my bright blue eyes, as I took my hands to my hair and started cleansing it gently. I quickly finished my shower when I heard my mother bang on the bathroom door. “Hurry up! We’ll be late if you don’t get out.” My mother shouted. She was always so concerned with time. We were always early though. I think she wanted to be though. She would take those few spare moments before service started to flirt with the recently legal son of her childhood best friend, while my father would sit on the pew, clueless and not paying attention as always. Everyone had their secrets…Some were more obvious than others.
I turned off the hot water to have my skin greeted by the cold winter air. I stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself in a blanket like towel. I opened the door just to have my brother push past me, shouting, “I have to make a potty!” As if he were making an announcement. I groaned in irritation. I walked to my room, and dropped my towel. The cold air on my body made all my little baby hair’s stand up, from the small of my back, to my neck. I took out my knee-length dress, and put it on my bed. I picked up my towel, and wrapped it around my dripping wet hair. I fumbled through my pantie drawer, trying to hurry. I pulled out a small pair of pink panties. They were getting too small for me…But I had been too embarrassed to ask for new ones. Anything that had to do with my body, I avoided discussion with. After pulling them up my damp legs, I pulled on my dress. My mom busted through my door, “What are you doing? We need to get going.” She said angrily. “I know mom. I’m hurrying.” I retorted. “Really, Adrianna?” she said while looking at me up and down. “What?...” I questioned. “That dress? For church? Ugh, fine, I don’t even care.” She slammed my door shut. I felt my heart sink. She always found some fault in me even though I already found so many.
I pulled my hair up in a ponytail, and took one last look in the mirror. I crossed my arms to cover my breasts. Mother said I wasn’t old enough to have bras. It was humiliating. I’ve been taught to deny everything about myself for so long.
As I got out of the car, I felt the snow crunch beneath my black boots. I looked up into the sky to see snowflakes falling down to the earth. When I was a small girl, I used to think that snowflakes were the tears of angels.
“I hear there’s a new pastor. Supposed to be really young.” My father mentioned. I brushed off my father’s mumblings and we all walked toward the building, my baby brother’s hand in mine. We smiled, and nodded to all the happy faces we had grown to know as we passed through the glass doors. We were greeted by a handsome young man. He had such beautiful green eyes…His blonde hair hung in front of his eyes, and his smile was so perfectly imperfect, with his white, yet somewhat crooked teeth. He brushed the hair from his eyes and walked up to my family. “Hi, I’m Andrew. The new pastor here. It’s nice to meet all of you.” He said with a smile as he extended a friendly hand to my father. “It’s nice to meet you too. We’re the Newman’s. This is my beautiful wife, Sophia. My son, timothy, and my babygirl, Adrianna.” My father said. He smiled at me, his cheeks turned a very soft red around his dimples. I extended my hand, he took mine in his, and shook it gently. “It’s my pleasure” I said. My mother glared at me. If only looks could kill.
© Copyright 2016 Loren Rose . All rights reserved.
Book / Romance
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