Once upon a time there was an unloved young Blaire, who made a promise to an empty room with only her stuffed animals and her dog as witnesses. She promised that she would never let herself grow close to anyone; that she would never let love cut her wings and make a prisoner of her once again. That way she would remain safe and unharmed.
Well, it is time for me to fulfill that promise I made so long ago.
One week later…
I’m packing my red suitcase, grabbing every single item of silk, cotton, lace, and leather I have paid for with my body, when my mom walks into my bedroom.
“What are you doing?” she asks, her perfect golden hair looking like a million bucks.
I don’t bother acknowledging her, instead, I reach over my suitcase to grab Winkler, my old grey teddy bear, and put him next to a Louis Vuitton bag that Mr. Callahan bought for me.
She comes to stand next to me and grabs me by the arm so we’re looking at each other. “Answer me when I’m speaking to you, Blaire. Where are your manners?”
I pull my arm free of her hold as her nails leave a burning trace on my skin. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m packing my shit and leaving this fucking town.”
“Watch your mouth, Blaire. I’m your mother,” she replies bitingly.
I snort. “Are you? I wouldn’t have known.”
It happens before I even see it coming. The first physical touch in at least eight years from my mom is not a hug or a caress … no. It’s a slap across my face.
How fitting.
My hand instantly covers the sore spot where she hit me. I rub my cheek, trying to soothe the sting of her palm as it spreads heat across my skin.
“How dare you,” she breathes.
“How dare I what? Speak the truth?” A destructive smile sweeps across my face. It feels good. “You know what? Don’t bother. I’m out, and I’m never coming back. And aren’t you glad?” I look her up and down, noticing the expensive clothes she’s wearing. The clothes she couldn’t have afforded. The clothes another man must have paid for. “After all you’ve never cared about me.”
My mother doesn’t even bat an eyelash. “And how do you expect to pay for this? You don’t even have a job.”
I laugh in her face. “Well … how does that saying go? Oh yes, I remember now.” I tap my forehead as if a bright idea has just occurred to me. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, right? I guess in our case that holds true.” I start packing again. My flight leaves in four hours and I have no intention of missing it.
After some silence, I assume she’s already left my room when her answer comes echoing through the air. “Don’t think too highly of yourself, Blaire. Your looks will fade … and you’ll be all alone.”
I close my suitcase, hearing it click shut, then lift it off the bed and put it down on the floor next to me. After I grab my bag and put Winkler and my old paperback of Persuasion in it, I’m able to finally stare her in the eye. “Just like you, right?”
“How dare—”
“Don’t bother.” I reach for the handle of my suitcase and head toward the door, my shoulder bumping against hers as I walk past her. “I’ll be smart just like you, Mom. I’ll make you proud, I promise,” I spit.
As I walk out of my mother’s house, filling my lungs with clean air, a sense of freedom washes over me. And right now, while I take my first steps into the unknown, I realize that there’s nothing holding me back. Nothing. This is my chance to shape myself into the woman I want to be without gossip following my every step, or memories shining like neon lights on every corner with every item I see.
So here and now is where my story begins. My tale. Will it be a love story or a tragedy? Maybe it will be a farce. Who the fuck knows, really. Only time will tell, but I can already see it written…
On a breezy summer morning when the birds sang their beautiful love songs and the sun shone brightly in the cloudless sky above, Blaire White turned eighteen years old. She left her old and forsaken town in search of the American Dream—a big fat wallet filled with lots of green dollars.
And why the hell not? With my body and looks, I will conquer the world.
It’s my destiny.
I am beautiful.
I am beautiful.
I am beautiful.
STANDING NAKED IN FRONT OF A MIRROR, I look at my reflection while chanting the litany my brain is trying to engrave in my heart. It isn’t working. Nothing ever works. I don’t believe it. I never will. Instead, my heart keeps telling my mind over and over again …
You are not beautiful. Look at you. You are worthless. You are unlovable. Not even your parents loved you.