I Don't Belong Here
Mirrors Start To Whisper, Shadows Start To Sing
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Bright red hair immaculately curled, with the front pinned back with pearl clips. Sleaveless white dress, with the neckline low enough to show off just a hint of cleavage, clinging to my torso. Snowy skirt cascading gracefully to the ground and trailing behind me. White lace veil covering my face.
"You look absolutely gorgeous, sweetie." My mom smiled as she carefully adjusted my veil. "Beautiful."
I looked into the soulless eyes of my reflection. I don't feel beautiful.
"Get out there, and show them how pretty you are." Mom smiled and patted my shoulder, sending me out into the beautifully decorated garden. A man was waiting there, tall and dark-haired, wearing a black tuxedo and holding a rose. I silently took my place at his side, feeling quite awkward.
"Gorgeous!" The photographer exclaimed from behind his camera. "Now, Henry, I want you to drape your arm around Angel's waist. Good. Now, Angel, look up, and smile softly."
I posed like he told me to. These pictures were going in next spring's wedding catalogue. My mother was excited, as today was my first international photoshoot, taking place in England.
"Angel, honey. I need more emotion from you. Exude happiness. I need you to look in love."
I looked up at the male model, whose name I didn't even know. I stared into his green eyes, mentally replacing them with a pair of piercing blue ones. I imagined him as Andy, and I smiled like I would if it was Andy standing there with his arms around me.
It's pathetic, isn't it? That I'm still hung up on my best friend, who abandonned me. Welcome to my sad little life.
*Several hours later*
"Angel, honey, that was perfect!" My mother rushed into the changing room without even bothering to knock. I yelped, quickly leaping behind a curtain to hide my body, clad only in my bra and underwear.
"Mom. Privacy. Please."
"Oops." My mother giggled like a thirteen year old girl. "Sorry." She turned around so that her back was to me. I sighed and emerged from behind the curtain, slithering into my black skinny jeans and sliding my black lace top over my head.
"Really, all black again?" Mom turned around as I began to put on my black leather boots. "You really have to get over this goth phase, Angel. It's not good for you."
I rolled my eyes. Since when has she cared about what's good for me? "I'm not going 'goth', Mom. I just happen to like the way black clothing looks on me."
"What about that awful music?"
"There's nothing 'goth' about rock music, Mom. Besides, I've been listening to that stuff since high school."
My mother frowned and muttered something. I caught the phrases "that Biersack boy" and "bad influence". I stood up, pushing down my annoyance as I grabbed my purse. "Let's just go."
"Alright, sweetie." My mom placed a hand on my arm, and I had to work to keep from flinching at her touch. Memories of bruises and my own screams flashed through my mind. But I simply smiled, like a pretty girl without a single care. Maybe if I kept pretending long enough, I'd convince myself that I was happy.
"You look absolutely gorgeous, sweetie." My mom smiled as she carefully adjusted my veil. "Beautiful."
I looked into the soulless eyes of my reflection. I don't feel beautiful.
"Get out there, and show them how pretty you are." Mom smiled and patted my shoulder, sending me out into the beautifully decorated garden. A man was waiting there, tall and dark-haired, wearing a black tuxedo and holding a rose. I silently took my place at his side, feeling quite awkward.
"Gorgeous!" The photographer exclaimed from behind his camera. "Now, Henry, I want you to drape your arm around Angel's waist. Good. Now, Angel, look up, and smile softly."
I posed like he told me to. These pictures were going in next spring's wedding catalogue. My mother was excited, as today was my first international photoshoot, taking place in England.
"Angel, honey. I need more emotion from you. Exude happiness. I need you to look in love."
I looked up at the male model, whose name I didn't even know. I stared into his green eyes, mentally replacing them with a pair of piercing blue ones. I imagined him as Andy, and I smiled like I would if it was Andy standing there with his arms around me.
It's pathetic, isn't it? That I'm still hung up on my best friend, who abandonned me. Welcome to my sad little life.
*Several hours later*
"Angel, honey, that was perfect!" My mother rushed into the changing room without even bothering to knock. I yelped, quickly leaping behind a curtain to hide my body, clad only in my bra and underwear.
"Mom. Privacy. Please."
"Oops." My mother giggled like a thirteen year old girl. "Sorry." She turned around so that her back was to me. I sighed and emerged from behind the curtain, slithering into my black skinny jeans and sliding my black lace top over my head.
"Really, all black again?" Mom turned around as I began to put on my black leather boots. "You really have to get over this goth phase, Angel. It's not good for you."
I rolled my eyes. Since when has she cared about what's good for me? "I'm not going 'goth', Mom. I just happen to like the way black clothing looks on me."
"What about that awful music?"
"There's nothing 'goth' about rock music, Mom. Besides, I've been listening to that stuff since high school."
My mother frowned and muttered something. I caught the phrases "that Biersack boy" and "bad influence". I stood up, pushing down my annoyance as I grabbed my purse. "Let's just go."
"Alright, sweetie." My mom placed a hand on my arm, and I had to work to keep from flinching at her touch. Memories of bruises and my own screams flashed through my mind. But I simply smiled, like a pretty girl without a single care. Maybe if I kept pretending long enough, I'd convince myself that I was happy.
