Deen Queens

seventeen [becky]

BECKY

Becky sighed under her breath, the moment billowing her fringe out of the way. She was sitting in her English class, although barely paying attention to the words her teacher drawled or the book laid open in front of her.

Ever since the day she had kissed Mohammad whilst somewhat intoxicated, it seemed her entire life had shifted, strangely enough. She didn't know how to describe it but somehow it felt as though she had been torn apart and then glued back together in the wrong order. It had felt right for about half a second - perhaps the best half a second of her life - but it also felt wrong.

Everything felt wrong.

Her mum had been quiet; for once Marie wasn't nitpicking everything the neighbours gossiped about her. Her brother had been spending a lot less time around her and a lot more time around Karishma. Her friends had all been busy too - they had finals and everyone was stressed. She could understand it, or at least that's what she told herself. Rayne was too busy being in love to notice something wasn't quite right with his friend and Mohammad... well he was another world all together.

Becky felt her heart construct inside her, as she pretended to be analysing Emily Brontes words. Mohammad wasn't in school today, although she had seen him a few times since her incredibly stupid decision and each time he had smiled at her as though it hurt him to do so. She knew he was trying to show that everything was okay but a part of her wished he would ignore her instead. Perhaps that would hurt less.

And as she walked home alone that evening, Carter having had made other arrangements, Becky wondered if she had ever felt as lonely in her entire life as she currently did.

She opened the front door to their front door slowly, wincing slightly as silence greeted her like an old friend. The house was a little cold, blending into the outdoors as she made a beeline straight to her bedroom. Even her own room felt strange, as though she had only been half living there for a couple of days.

"Why?" she whispered to herself, not quite knowing what she was asking and who she was asking but doing it all the same. Her bag tumbled from her shoulders, falling open as it hit the carpet and pens rolled out but she didn't care.

When was the last time she felt peace?

Becky didn't know the answer. Sure, she had felt okay plenty of times before The Kiss but was that pure peace? Maybe not. With one finger brushing against the glass in front of her, she stared at her reflection trying to recognise the girl staring back at her.

Her gaze ran over the smooth plains of her dark skin, contoured cheeks, carefully drawn brows and perfectly painted crimson lips. She looked down at her clothes, at the soft skin peeking out from the open buttons of her private schools uniform, her long legs and velvet heeled black shoes pressing against her carpet. She analysed the hair on her head, one that wasn't her own because it was too good to be hers, too straight and too compliant. Was this who she had become? When had that happened?

With a hand that slowly begun to shake, Becky wiped off her makeup, scrubbing at her skin until there was no trace of highlight lingering on the bridge of her nose or black lining her eyelids. She rubbed the sides of her nose with vigour, trying to rid herself of the dark powder that made her naturally wide nose narrower - a pathetic attempt to fit in to Eurocentric beauty ideals that appeared to take over the world.

It was pathetic, all of it. This was something she had never thought before, a realisation crashing into her like the way tsunamis fell down on unexpecting towns. Her fingers pulled at her eyelashes, tugging the false ones off and running over the top of her forehead where the glue sat.