A Miserable Life

Riley's Point of View:

“No, no, no!” I yelled at the top of my voice and angrily threw the wig in my hand on the floor.

I felt frustrated, and the closest comfort was my bed, so I collapsed on it. I was so emotional that I covered my face with my palm, trying to stop the tears threatening to stream out of my eyes.

“Are you alright?” An inner voice in my head asked. It was my conscience. She advises me from time to time.

I could tell she was trying to point me in the right direction, but I've always rebelled against it. I didn't want anyone telling me what to do. But the weird thing is, after some time passed, I realized that the voice in my head - the one that's always nagging me or giving me a sense of right and wrong - is actually me. My own subconscious.

I was telling myself the right thing to do, but my traumatized personality always opted for the wrong choice, thinking it would heal the pain of rejection I felt. Yes, you can guess... it never did. To this day, I remain as hurt as I was from the very first day.

“Why do I have to go for the family dinner?” I replied to my conscience and sat up, thoughtfully placing my hand on my chin. “It's obvious they don't care about me! They are simply using me to generate a good connection with Alexander, so why do I have to play along?” I finally said what had been on my mind since the very first day I kissed Alex.

I couldn't explain why I was trying to impress my family. They don't give a shit about me. They even disowned me, and although it took time, I've come to accept that. Strangely, there were moments when I blamed myself and considered begging for forgiveness.

“Forgiveness?” I murmured under my breath. “They didn't even apologize for their shitty behavior!” I said with a grimace and covered my face with my palm, but this time I was unable to stop my tears and it came rolling down.

Reality suddenly drew on me! After years of abandonment, my family has suddenly taken an interest in me, but what's even more painful is that they refuse to apologize for their past actions. Instead of standing up for myself or ignoring them, I've found myself trying to appease them, wanting to become their puppet.

The memories of all those nights that I had to cry alone knowing full well that I had nowhere to sleep resurfaced. The multiple times reporters continuously assaulted me, and my parents kept quiet, watching in delight. The smiles on their faces when they found out that I was receiving threat notes and scary items from strangers. They didn't even bother to give me a penny the day they sent me out of the family house! They left me to fend for myself for years, now I was being invited to that very family house. I wasn't even begged to come back. I was sent a filthy invitation card, and typical me began to get ready! Forgetting how they had treated me like trash all these years!

“Forgiveness,” I muttered and stood up. I stood in front of my mirror once again and wiped the tears in my eyes. “Am I really that cheap? Do I forgive that easily?” I asked myself with raised brows.

After staring at the mirror for a while, I shook my head in disgust. “No, I don't. And I sure haven't forgiven them for the way they treated me. I wouldn't ask them to beg me for mercy, because when the time is right, they will voluntarily kneel at my feet.” I determined and clenched my fists, ready to let go of the past. I would have completely forgotten about my misery if it wasn't for the wig on the floor.

The wig stared at me, resistant to my threats. It was like it was daring me to pick her up and face my fear. Or maybe it was mocking me, silently calling me a fool for thinking I could just forget the past and move on.

I stared at her, starting a staring competition and determined to win. My wig didn't back down, and to my horror, she proved a point when I blinked my eyebrows. She didn't care about the fact that I had stared without blinking for seconds. Instead, she showed me that sometimes, I might try so hard to win, that I end up losing within seconds, and yet no one will care about my past accomplishments. Everyone will focus on the fact that I lost. Yes, they don't care about your past struggles, they just want to be friends with you when you finally win.

“So it is true,” I sighed, my face etched in pain, and bent to pick up the wig, accepting my defeat. “People will only love you when it's beneficial. The minute you stop being an asset, they dump you just as quickly as they had befriended you.”

I dusted the dirt away from my wigs and moved it towards my head. At this point, I feared wigs would not be able to protect my secrets. There was no single strand of hair on my head, and my hair booster had finished. I looked at my new appearance in the mirror, secretly asking the wig if it could protect my secrets and bring back my past look.

“Your past look? I thought you just let go of the past.” My conscience's voice sounded in my head, and I didn't know if I was supposed to answer or ignore her.

I didn't want to answer her because I was speechless, unsure of what to say or lie about. Also, I was scared that ignoring her wouldn't stop the fact that whatever she was about to say was right.

“I have cancer! I am about to die! No one must find out, if they do, they will turn me into a laughingstock!” I confessed, spitting out my fear. “I don't even know how I contracted the virus, and not that it cures anything, I am sure my father would say that kissing girls gave it to me! They will all blame it on my sexuality, and once again, I will be on the receiving end.”

“You do know cancer is not contagious, right? I mean kissing and having sex with girls doesn't transfer cancer to you?” My conscience asked with an amused voice, and I could sense she was laughing at my naive and stupid nature.

“But my family doesn't know that! Even if they do, they will still act like it's contagious, just to be on the winning side,” I replied honestly, and my conscience smacked her lips, intrigued.

“What about Alex? Why not tell him? Remember the doctor said it would be nice to spend your last few days with your family and people you love. I think Alex fits perfectly into this description,” My conscience advised me with a solemn voice, and I scoffed in response.

“You think I haven't thought of telling him?” I asked with a sarcasm-filled voice. “Alex is married, you heard him. He is expecting a baby with his wife. Telling him will cause me nothing but pain. Also, he will turn me into a pity case. He will think of me as a pathetic bisexual lady, and I will end up making things hard for him.”

“You have a wild brain, Riley! Don't tell me you thought about all those within a few minutes!” My conscience sounded impressed….. or maybe that's how I wanted her to sound.

I smiled broadly, happy that I received a compliment from myself.

“But, what about-”

I didn't allow her to complete her sentence before replying. “What about who? Roland? Seriously gal, why would you even think about him?” I asked with arched brows, wondering why my conscience was thinking about my childhood crush, who ended up betraying me!

“I am you, Silly. I wasn't thinking about him, you were!” My conscience replied and burst into taunting laughter.

But I refused to believe her and focused my attention on her laughter. “Why would I laugh at myself?” I asked rhetorically. But without being told, I knew my life was laughable. When I noticed that my conscience was about to reply to my question, I quickly brought up the first thought that came to my mind. I just wasn't ready to think about the reasons that made my life… miserable.

“Roland won't reply even if I tell him. He never cared about me. To him, I was just another….. charity case,” I murmured, not wanting to remember those painful memories.

My conscience suddenly turned quiet, I guess she also didn't want to recall the memories.

“Yeah, my life is so laughable,” I said with dark humor, and a painful smile appeared on my face.

As I was trying on the wig, my phone rang, and I picked it up without looking at the screen.

“You bitch! I thought you weren't going to pick up my call! I thought you'd blocked me!” A hoarse voice screamed from the other side of the line.

I raised my brows, feeling annoyed by the voice, and contemplating hanging up the call. “Who the hell is this? And don't you have manners? Why would I waste my time blocking you when I don't give a fuck about who you are or where you live?” I replied, suddenly curious to know the caller.