- Jemaya’s POV
Jemaya’s POV
I tossed and turned for hours before finally falling asleep, and even then, my dreams were filled with the awkward
conversation we had at dinner.
So by the time my alarm rang, it didn’t feel like I had gotten any sleep at all.
With dark circles under my eyes, I had no choice but to try on the makeup in the closet.
I was bullied for random things yesterday, but if I went to school with these panda eyes, I’d definitely be bullied for my body.
A shiver ran down my spine as I applied concealer to my skin. But for a first-timer, my makeup matched the tutorial I found
online.
“Perfect!” I chirped and went on to put on my clothes.
The XL tag at the back of the blazer reminded me of my size as I looked at myself in the mirror.
I never felt pressured about my appearance in the past. Plus, the compliment Jake gave me boosted my confidence even
more.
But when I thought about the mean girls I’d be facing again, everything went down the drain.
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14 Jemaya’s POV
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Would they fat-shame me again? The thought overrode my mind through breakfast and even after.
There was no sign of Jake to distract me.
“Good morning,” the driver said as I adjusted my bag strap.
“Good morning,” I sighed dejectedly, my head lowered. Too tired for anything the day had to offer.
“I’m ready for school,” I said and was about to open the door when a car drove in, and my mom stepped out.
“I hope you all missed me.” Her voice was cheery, a huge contrast to my downcast tone.
As if that wasn’t enough, she had shopping bags and walked right past me.
“Mom…” I called after her. She paused but said nothing. “Why did you-”
I closed my eyes to shut out the thoughts.
It was best to take everything that happened yesterday to the
grave.
“Did you say something?” she asked.
“No. Welcome.” I forced a smile.
“Can’t you even make a coherent statement?” She rolled her eyes and turned away.
That shattered my already fragile heart. The
underappreciation. She walked past like she couldn’t be bothered to spend another minute with me.
17.59%
- Jemaya’s POV
Just like before Dad left.
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She always blamed me for his cheating because the excuse he gave was that she was pregnant, and he couldn’t hold it in.
But then, she didn’t hesitate to cut things off with her biological sister when Dad cheated with her.
My mom had shown time and time again that she’d choose the man over her family, even if he was the one at fault.
Now, she had found a better excuse to throw me aside.
“It’s just…” A sad smile played on my lips. My attention turned to opening the door instead.
“Do you have something to say to me?” she asked. The sudden attention and softness in her voice gave me a flicker of hope. So, I asked…
“Will you go to school with me?”
“Are you in kindergarten?” That single question threw me away even before she flung her hand out.
Her anger and irritation at my question, the way she eyed me from head to toe so rapidly, broke me.
“…Mom, stop belittling me!” I snapped, raising my voice at her.
I noticed the driver flinch and step aside, but my rage was too full for me to care.
“Can’t you just do something for me as your daughter? What did I do so wrong?”
Tears brimmed, threatening to fall, but I remained confident
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- Jemaya’s POV
in the waterproof nature of my makeup.
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However, I had barely let out half the things I had to say when my own mother retorted with the most painful words a woman could say to her child.
“I brought you into this world, and you’ve only caused me one trouble after another. That’s wrong in itself. So how about you stop being a demanding crybaby and grow up? You’re 20, for God’s sake!”
No, I wasn’t.
The one who should be twenty is already long gone. And she would never stop blaming me for it.
“Jemaya. You owe this life to more than just me, so be more responsible, please,” she said. But nothing about her tone or the disdain in her eyes was pleading.
If anything, her face was all scrunched up in disgust.
“I didn’t ask for it! Why can’t you just do one thing that I ask? Just one!” I jabbed my index finger out.
“You brought me here. Take responsibility,” I pleaded. But I couldn’t beg again.
Pleading with her when she’d already made it clear would only
make me vulnerable.
She’d use it against me any chance she got.
“You’re an adult. Figure it out.”
“I hate my life.”
