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Heather | Chapter 1: The Chest
This is probably the prettiest I can be. Even this old lavish mirror is more flattering to look at. This mirror might be the fanciest thing in this house though, and my face just taints its class. Oh dear god, I can’t even look at myself any longer. If only I could change everything that I am. I roll my eyes as I turn away from the mirror. I wonder if changing anything would vanish my sense of identity, or maybe it would just give me a new identity?
“Heather! What takes you so long? We’re leaving in 5 minutes!”. My mom’s yelling wakes me up from my own thoughts, “I’m coming!”, I yelled back.
It’s kind of ironic to name your child Heather hoping she would be adored by everyone. I’m not even close to being one. I don’t even adore myself, let alone being adored by others. I shake my head and sigh.
I put on my brown worn-out skirt and a hand-down khaki blouse, along with the old boots my dad got me from the bazaar 2 years ago.
I’m just going to braid my hair real quick and come down.
“I wish I looked like you”, I turn to the source of the little sweet voice that catches my attention. Freesia. My little sister. The youngest in the family, and the one with the purest heart and lovely eyes.
“Oh Freesia! I didn’t know you were there!”, She stands behind my half-opened door while she watches me braiding my hair.
“Come in”, I smiled.
Freesia walks in and sits on the edge of my bed.
She does not want to look like me. She would suffer like me.
“Freesia, you might wish to look like me, but I wish I could have eyes like yours so I could see me the way you see me.”
She frowns and tilts her head a little to the right, “Heather, you don’t see yourself the way I see you?”,
“Of course she doesn’t, she thinks you’re prettier than her. Which is true. You are.”
Said Hazel, my fraternal twin sister. She was born an hour after me though. We don’t look identical at all. In fact, our hair and eye color is different. She has these beautiful red hair and hazel-ish eyes that turn green in the light. While me, well I’m just an ordinary girl with dark brown hair and brown eyes. I wonder if she would still say anything about my look if only she looked like me.
I tie my braid and get my butt off the vanity chair as I try to ignore Hazel, who stands in the door with her mischievous smile, and says, “Shut it Hazel! You’re a bully!”,
“How am I...
“Heather! What takes you so long? We’re leaving in 5 minutes!”. My mom’s yelling wakes me up from my own thoughts, “I’m coming!”, I yelled back.
It’s kind of ironic to name your child Heather hoping she would be adored by everyone. I’m not even close to being one. I don’t even adore myself, let alone being adored by others. I shake my head and sigh.
I put on my brown worn-out skirt and a hand-down khaki blouse, along with the old boots my dad got me from the bazaar 2 years ago.
I’m just going to braid my hair real quick and come down.
“I wish I looked like you”, I turn to the source of the little sweet voice that catches my attention. Freesia. My little sister. The youngest in the family, and the one with the purest heart and lovely eyes.
“Oh Freesia! I didn’t know you were there!”, She stands behind my half-opened door while she watches me braiding my hair.
“Come in”, I smiled.
Freesia walks in and sits on the edge of my bed.
She does not want to look like me. She would suffer like me.
“Freesia, you might wish to look like me, but I wish I could have eyes like yours so I could see me the way you see me.”
She frowns and tilts her head a little to the right, “Heather, you don’t see yourself the way I see you?”,
“Of course she doesn’t, she thinks you’re prettier than her. Which is true. You are.”
Said Hazel, my fraternal twin sister. She was born an hour after me though. We don’t look identical at all. In fact, our hair and eye color is different. She has these beautiful red hair and hazel-ish eyes that turn green in the light. While me, well I’m just an ordinary girl with dark brown hair and brown eyes. I wonder if she would still say anything about my look if only she looked like me.
I tie my braid and get my butt off the vanity chair as I try to ignore Hazel, who stands in the door with her mischievous smile, and says, “Shut it Hazel! You’re a bully!”,
“How am I...
