Loving The Opposite | ✔

[one]

♔Lindsey's P.O.V♔

NOTHING screams happy than the first day of senior year. Lie. I was not one to get excited over the mere fact that I was heading to school. School was the hell hole I've always wanted to escape. Now that it was senior year, my chances were increasing as the awaited day approached.

"Vicki, hurry up! We're getting late for school." Like always, Vicki was fashionably late. Even for the first day of school. If I had her opportunity, I wouldn't be late.

Her slim diamond shaped face, caked up with tons of makeup, peered from the small square hole everyone called a window. Her blue eyes, shone like sapphires under the blazing sun. Her golden locks glistened under the sun, which made me wish I had blond hair and not this plain brunette hair.

Her eyes snapped unto me from above, as I gazed at her from below. She scrunches her nose, clearly disgusted with my presence.

"Don't rush me little twit, I'm the one heading to school, not you." She gave me a disgusted once over, before yelling out, "Mom, Lindsey's harassing me again."

Well, there goes my so called good vibes and good morning I had planned to have.

My stepmom stepped out of the house, wearing an apron written, 'Kiss The Cook.' Her blond hair, that was identical to Vicki's shone as bright as the morning sun. Her pupils were darkened; her still gaze on me. Without knowing it, Vicki had gotten me into trouble. And this was not a first.

She stormed towards me, her death glare still etched on me. I backed away slightly as my skin crawled with uneasiness.

She halted in front of me, then suddenly, grabbed a fistful of my brown brunette hair. "What problem do you have with Vicki?"

"Mom, I was-" she pulled harshly at my hair, making me stop mid-sentence. Tears brimmed at my eyes from the ferocious surge of pain travelling through my scalp. I gulped inwardly, as she made me face her.

"Remember that I'm not your mother, and I never was," she pulled harder at my hair, "Don't mess with my daughter ever again." With those final words, she effortlessly released me, as she threw me to the hard concrete ground.

I landed with a harsh thud, my back hitting the ground. I seethed in pain from the anguish. The physical pain was bearable, but what cut deeper than any wound was her saying that she was not my mother.

It was an undeniable fact that she was not my mother, but it hurt to hear say that. I considered her as my mother. She and Vicki were the only family I had left; after I had tragically lost mine.

It hurts to see that she only saw me as a burden, an orphan child that neither her or anyone wanted. It hurt immensely.

As I blinked away my tears, I pulled myself off the cold concrete ground. I quickly wiped off the tears that threatened to tumble down my cheeks and dusted off the sand that gathered on my clothes.