Gone With the Wind
Zephyr hated her, abhorred her with every fiber of her being. In fact, every morsel of flesh on her bones quivered at the mere thought of that dreadful person she called "Mother". Wordlessly, she sat cross-legged on the varnished parquet floor for the last time. Feeling the rage swirl through her body, all the way to her fingertips, she resolved not to waste her time brooding over mindless nincompoops. She vowed to take revenge, even (or especially) if it meant acting like a complete jerk. In fact, she thrived on it and licked her black lips as she tasted the sweetness of vengeance. She promised to make her mum regret forcing her to move to California.
The place where she spent her whole life in, where she could let her guard down. This was the one place where no one was going to label her a goth freak, or call her an emotionless slut. She would never have imagined it would be this hard to say goodbye to something. Then again, she had never known how attached she could grow to her sanctuary. Bittersweet memories flitted across her mind like fluttering butterflies, and she felt an unfamiliar pang of … melancholy. She quickly brushed the thought off, as she powdered her already porcelain face white.
She managed to convince herself that it didn't matter. She sure as hell was not going to miss bloody Toronto and her eff-ed up school. Although she would rather kiss a frog than admit it, she was afraid of change. Beneath that frosty glare, she was almost as vulnerable as girls her age ( though she liked to believe that she heaps more intelligent).
To top it all off, her mother was sending her to some snotty boarding school. She cringed at the mere thought of this, as she recalled the Enid Blyton books she had adore once upon a time.
Preppy girls and horny boys were not her cup of tea. At all. She silently vowed to stab any squealing or giggling girls that she encountered. The traces of a grin appeared on her face, but disappeared instantaneously upon hearing her mum call for her.
Taking a deep breath, she bent down and picked up her guitar case and knapsack. Waving half-heartedly, she bid her childhood home farewell.
It would not last. However, she furrowed her thick brows as she concentrated playing her harp. Already, the strains of her father brusquely accusing her mother were audible, even though her closed bedroom door. Shut up! Beethoven's concerto was going to have to wait, she sighed.
Tiptoeing ever so stealthily down the stairs, she took in the ugly scene which was unfolding before her very eyes. With a drunken swagger, her dad swiped at her mother's cheek, missing her by a few centimeters. "Robby, stop it!" Her mum pleaded pitifully. Epiphany shuddered in disgust at that brute. She had to bite her lips to prevent herself from sputtering profanities. Sadly, she was resigned to not being able to help her mother, for fear of aggravating the situation.
Crouching down uncomfortably, she prayed fervently that her dad would stop his antics once and for all. However, she knew only too well that this would all be in vain. As always, tears began collecting in her eyes and lingered there for the briefest of moments, before letting go.
Raising his thick hand up, her whacked her mother's face with all his might. Speechless, she raised her hand up to her cheek forlornly. Why doesn't she just stay out of his way? She's just as stupid as him.
This whole scenario was nothing new to Epiphany. Ever since she was a little girl, she had witnessed this countless times. No matter how much she tried to convince her mother, she refused to divorce her dad. Epiphany knew that it was because her mum was a dreamer, hoping that one day, all of this would blow over and they would live happily ever after, just like in a fairytale. Not.
As much as Epiphany despised her father, she could not bring herself to blame him completely. It was not his fault that he suffered from acute paranoia, was it? Nonetheless, she knew that her life would be much better without that useless creature intruding on their lives, while contributing virtually nothing substantial.
Back to her room, the one place where she could let go. Just like Avril Lavigne's album title. Sure, her life looked picture-perfect to her friends at school, but upon closer examination, she knew that her secret life would reveal its monstrous identity. And she didn't even care anymore.
(to be continued…)