To me listening to it, is like inhaling fresh air. It invigorates me, to the point that without it I solemnly think I won't function through any day. It’s my own escape from reality.
I guess my grandmother Cherry knew that about me, from the moment I was born, because she was the one who named me.
Harmony April White. In the flesh.
I live in a house with three brothers and two sisters. First comes Matt who is twenty two and the oldest. Next is Cameron she's twenty, after that comes Joe who is nineteen. Then that's when I come in, oh and I'm seventeen. The twins Aaron and Ana who are nine years old are last.
People think being a 'White' is a blessing. In some cases like my family getting special treatment everywhere they went, then yeah, but in other cases like me actually being apart of the family, then that's a big no no.
My father and I never had an actual proper conversation. Never. He would only speak to me if it is absolutely necessary. It still makes me sad. He was never actually there for me. Not physically nor emotionally. I stopped bothering myself about that a long time ago.
As for my mother, well let's just say, I'd rather jump into an erupting volcano than ever have a casual conversation with her.
Yep, you've guessed it. We don't get along at all. It’s because of her that I’ve actually distanced myself from the rest of our family. To start with, I literally have nothing in common with her. A citation being, She loves wearing heels and walking as if there's a invisible book on her head, while I love wearing my beat up sneakers.
I love eating like no one is watching, while she drops small bites into her mouth, Of course using a knife and fork. Oh and for the big finale, I'm blonde. Nobody and I mean nobody within the whole family looks anything like me at all. All of them either have Raven black or dark brown hair. I really don't know how in the world I ended up being blonde. It’s like it’s mother nature’s way of laughing in my face.
I truly am practically invisible at home, but that is a thing I don't mind more than half the time. Right now I'm proud to say I'm used to it. My mom thinks I'm this vexatious, rebellious teenager, who wants nothing more, than wanting her wind pipe to explode.
I mean sometimes I do want that, specifically speaking when she's screaming right at me, or when she insults me infront of everyone. Thinking her words would finally make me listen and do whatever she wants. Little does she know the only reason her words don't affect me anymore is because I sadly got used to it.
Whenever she starts to talk I literally, press the 'Shuffle' button on my iPhone. To escape her afflicting words. To find peace in my own little world, alone.
I know I'm not beautiful.
I know I'm not wanted.
I know I'm a disappointment.
I know I'm an insult to the family.
These words are what I've heard over and over, coming out from my mother's mouth and what's even more heartbreaking is that nobody chooses to correct her at all. It's like they want me to feel so heartbroken and crippled inside.
I've always imagined the day she would just walk into my room with a smile on her face, rather than a scowl. Just to tell me that she loves me. For her to actually end up coming to watch my plays at school, to come cheer me on and say she’s proud of me. That's all I've wished for since my thirteenth birthday. Right now I'm smart enough to know I'd need a miracle for that to happen.
But as of now my miracle is music. That's the only thing that keeps me going and pushes me to get through to the next day. The only thing that gives me hope.
For now that is.
I finally managed to leave the ballroom, making my way to the bathroom. Thinking about hiding there for the rest of the night sounded like the best idea. If I went to my room, Chloe without a doubt would find me and believe me nobody would want to see an angry Chloe.
The nearest bathroom was the one beside my father's home office. I groaned, knowing I had to walk even more now. Call me lazy, I don't care. I was finally about to reach the bathroom, but hearing two voices pass through my father's office walls with one being way too familiar caused me to halt.
“I want you to get rid of that idiot Simon. He’s been causing too much trouble. I can’t have information getting out. I want him gone.”
"No problem, he'd be gone before sunrise." His voice sounded robotic. Who was he?
"Good, that's exactly what I like to hear."
"But there is one thing you need to know," His tone stayed the same.
"And what is that?"
"Someone found and opened up her grave, and-" He paused as if the words suddenly got caught up in his throat.
"And what?" She screamed. I’ve never seen her this angry before. It was more than anger. Was she scared?
"They removed her remains and left it open." My mother's widened as she gasped. They were talking about graves now? But who grave was is it?
“What?” She whispered. “Who?” She suddenly found her voice.
“We don’t know, but they think it might be her-“, My mother cut him off by grabbing him, by his collar, dragging him into my father's balcony leaving me standing there, baffled by what has just been said.
A grave? Who’s grave? Why was my mother suddenly scared and angry about a grave?
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