Hideaway

Chapter |2|

(Skylar on the top)

Chapter |2|

You know what's the hardest question?

No, it's not the problem of choice between what to wear to what to eat.

It's not even deciding what to do with your life.

It's asking 'what's wrong?' When you know that there's nothing right.

Exhausted, I shut the door behind me as I entered the house where I lived, before dumping my gym in the storeroom and dragging my feet up to the stairs.

All I wanted was to fall on my bed and go into a deep slumber. The race had me physically exhausted and the problems in my life, mentally. But obviously, whenever I think I'm free to do what I want to do, life comes and throws an interruption, as if mocking me by saying ,'Okay now?'

And I really wanted to groan at this interruption.

"Back from stuffing your stomach? I sincerely hope you didn't empty their stock of eatables," My darling step-mother sneered while having an ugly grin plastered on her face.

I didn't want to turn around. I didn't want to face her. But I didn't have much choice. I knew she'd follow me to my room and pester me until I replied. She loved making my life miserable. It was as if every mean word she said to me gave her some sort of deep pleasure without which she couldn't sleep.

"What? Did you eat up all your replies too?" She snarled. She had her white blonde hair in a tight bun. She wore a tight-fit red top along with a skin tight, long black skirt.

You see, in order to go for my races, I had to have some excuse. So I made up some gibberish about going to a fast food restaurant every day while I actually worked to keep myself in shape.

But as long as I had a bulging belly and huge thighs, Linda was satisfied.

In Fact, the owner of the restaurant, who was an old lady in her fifties, had pity on me after I'd told her my sob story. That is why if either one of the satanic beings tries to confirm my presence in the restaurant, dear old Martha does that for me.

The question still remained though. Why did I have to dress up in a fat suit to cover up my actual body?

In quite many instances where I felt the rebel in me rise, I had asked myself the very same question. In fact when my inner rebel had taken control, I did a couple of things to defy Linda, only for them to come and bite me in my rear.

One of the reasons I though why she wanted me to be fat was because she wanted everyone to see that Alicia was better than me. But people like Linda fail to understand that just by having an extra pound of fat or chub doesn't make the other better. In fact I wouldn't have minded staying a little chubby until the mother daughter pair decided to erase my mother's memories.

So in order to stop her from succeeding, I kept the essence of mom alive through something that proved as a constant reminder of the moments we had spent together before everything went downhill.

"No, Linda. They still have their food supply left," I replied tiredly. My eyes were almost drooping and I just wanted my bed.

"Well, whatever. Just get out of my sight, you fat, good-for-nothing bitch!," she sneered and sashayed off.

I didn't even have the energy to roll my eyes at her.

I'd gotten used to this. All her snarky remarks, taunts and insults. Three years gives a person enough strength to get immune to these kind of things.

With all the energy I was left with, I dragged myself upstairs to my room and fell on my bed.

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