"So, how was your first day, honey?" Mama questioned after swallowing her first bite of the delicious lasagna she had been making when I stepped foot in the house.

I'd just about sprinted to the kitchen after inhaling the aroma, only to be told off like a kid to go and get freshened up first. And begrudgingly, I had turned around to head up to my room in my signature pity look: sagged shoulders, head hung low and lips pouted.

Now, after having showered, finished homework and changed into my pj's, here we both were, seated in a four-seater dining table.

I looked up from the divine goodness on my plate to the creator of its divinity, still chewing and munching -extracting all the juices from that one bite as much as I could, until finally having swallowed it along with my nervousness.

But unfortunately, like vines, the roots of apprehensiveness and anxiety spurted out and clenched my heart in a vice-like grip. I did everything in my power to hide what that question was doing to me. What that question did to me each day, every year.

Just because I was comfortable being invisible, didn't mean I was comfortable admitting it to others. I just accepted it to myself once, out loud. Because it isn't acceptance until you can voice it out. And I could admit it, but only to myself, no one else. That would've been giving away my weakness, and I may have been invisible, but I was not weak.

I quickly picked up my glass and took a gentle gulp of water, in hopes to regain breathing. When I placed my glass down again and gazed at mama, she had a perfectly-plucked eyebrow raised in question. I smiled widely and returned my gaze to my plate.

"You know how much I love food, especially Italian and Chinese, don't you? And that too home-made. So it leaves me a little speechless at times, that's all," I said in light tone as I gave a casual shrug and took another bite of the mouth-watering feast before me. I hadn't lied, I just hadn't told her the other reason.

I could instantly sense her smiling. I stole a glance at her face for confirmation and wasn't disappointed. She was now eating with a happy-bunny look on her face.

I decided to answer her in a playful way, seeing it was the best strategy to get her off the subject. People often say, "Fake it 'till you make it", but hey, if you can't make it, fake it.

"Anyway, school was... the usual, like each year. You know, class after class after, oh I don't know? Class? Oh yeah, and then I had lunch -which by the way, could be dog food stuffed in burgers instead of beef, trust me it is that awful. Anyway, we got it because they decided to pity our brains for awhile. T-"

My aunt's boisterous laughter shut up my faked rant and made me smile, until I had also contributed with small giggles.

Then she eyed me mischievously with an amused smile gracing her lips and teased, "Being clever with me huh, wise lass?"

I blushed and tried to bite back a sheepish smile, though I didn't deny her assumption seeing she was, as always, on the mark. She suddenly got this glint in her eye and smirked slyly, and I knew then that whatever she was about to ask or say, would not be good. And I was proven right the second after.

"Has my wise lass found herself a fine lad?" She asked tauntingly in that tone Angelina Jolie uses in Maleficent to creep out everyone, although, I could also detect excitement laced beneath the surface of what she'd asked.

Yet, nothing in world could have prepared me for that question. I jerked forward, almost doing a face plant on my beautiful lasagna and choked on my own spit.

Instantly my aunt was at my side with a glass of water while she patted my back to help me stop coughing. My eyes began to shed tears due to the oxygen I'd deprived myself of and finally, after a whole five minutes, I was calm enough to drink water and sooth my burning throat.

She rolled her eyes and then raised her arms in an exasperated gesture while staring heavenwards, as if seeking guidance. "Gosh, this girl!"

She then turned her gaze to me wearily and exclaimed, "Lucy, I didn't tell you that you were getting married in under an hour! I just asked a basic question!"

As soon as I was back to normal, I cleared my throat and replied shrilly, "No mama! You know my policy on boys!"

It wasn't like I was against dating or having a relationship. It was just that I was against dating and relationship when it came to me. There were many reasons to it, and seeing how there were so many, I guess one should suffice to decrease one's curiosity -I despised boys my age with a passion.

Now, before anyone decides to go bull on me, they should know the answer to the next question which comes to the tip of most people's tongues right after knowing my reason -why.

Boys my age, were boys in high school. Therefore, they were under labels high school had to offer. And as they were labelled, they were accordingly moulded into their respective images. That meant, the grander the label, the more stuck up, cocky, arrogant and gutter-minded the jerk was. So dating was completely out of the question.

I didn't want a "Mr. Vanity Under-construction" as a boyfriend. I wanted a normal guy, which unfortunately for girls like me were unavailable.

I watched as mama sat back in her chair and gave me a reprimanding look with those jewel-like, teal blue eyes which I had inherited from her. The only exception was while hers were teal blue, mine were electric blue. It wasn't the usual blue you got to see on people. My eyes seemed to have a freaky glow to them. They were the kind of eyes which could easily be spotted from afar. Mama had told me the last member to have eyes like mine was my great grandfather from my mother's side.

I knew what that look was for.

She had been trying to get me to open up to boys since it was not a "normal behaviour" for a teenage girl. But when I wanted something, I always got it.

"Lucy, for heaven's sake, I should be scolding you for coming home late after spending time with your boyfriend. I should be worrying my head grey over you when you go to a high school party and come home completely wasted. I should be grounding you for not keeping your grades up and wearing skimpy skirts with skimpier tube tops. Not begging you to act your age like a normal, teenage girl would!"

I let her complete her one-breathed rant, taking in account all the things she'd said which added up to those wanna-be barbies who strutted around school like something stuck up their butt.

Don't get me wrong, I love barbies, but the high school version isn't my type.

"So what you're trying to say is that I should become an alcoholic, rebellious chic who has boyfriends lined up for her only because she dresses up like lingerie models?" I questioned in a tone which inquired confirmation -just to frighten her, with a brow arched up that I mastered watching her time after time.

Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second and I knew then with her panic-stricken look that I had her right where I wanted her. As bad as I felt for pulling that card on her, I had no choice but to use it to get her off my back -for a while. What I wouldn't do to make her forget my non-existent, dating history forever.

She rushed to correct me, "I didn't mean it to come out that extreme, but sometimes, with the way you're going on with your high school, I don't know whether to wish you were like that or are perfect like this,"

"Well," I said lightly as I got up with both our empty plates and glasses in hand and went to start washing them in the sink.

I didn't use the dishwasher because I didn't like using machines for stuff I'm very much capable to do with bare hands. It also kept me from getting bored at times when I had nothing better to do. It relaxed me to a better mood when I felt down, with the bubbles and water I blew out the window which was just above the sink.

"Then let me help you with that. You should hang out with your friends more often who have daughters my age. That'll make you decide that you're better off not becoming grey pre-maturely," I advised in a playful tone, as I quickly washed the dishes in the sink.

Silence.

As soon as I was done drying the dishes, I turned around to see her seat empty, which meant she already retired for the night. I smiled, and quickly exited the kitchen, bolting the windows and shutting off all the unnecessary lights on my way upstairs to my room.

As soon as I was in front of my bedroom's familiar white door, I wasted no time in rushing inside and shutting it behind me quietly. I slid down against the it and landed on the hard, wooden floor soundlessly. With nothing to do, I hugged my knees to my chest and began to stare at my room aimlessly, thinking about life. It was becoming a routine, having nothing to do every year after school or during the holidays.

I stared at my pure white walls, full of thousands of quotes I remembered by heart. I recalled the afternoons I spent writing each one down from memory, some from famous people, others by me -in black, almost two summers ago. That was the most fun I'd had in the last six years of my life. Each day, I spent writing quote after quote until I ran out of space.

The misery that arrested me was unfathomable that day. I had cried so much. And after I'd ran out of tears, I'd sat on the same spot I was sitting on two years later and thought of why I'd chosen to isolate myself to the point of insanity.

I never really got an answer.

All I knew was that I could never come out of the prison I locked myself in and threw the key away in hopes to never find it again. It was reflex to pull my hood up every time I was a step away from opening the front door. It had become a habit to sneak around at school and stay in the dark where no one would look for me or try to save me. It became a necessity to always be on guard. All because of what? My guess wasn't any better than the next person.

I closed my eyes and breathed out a strangled sigh, placing my head against the door lightly. I stared at my ceiling and went blank as one sentence kept revolving in my head.

I'm afraid of my life and for myself right now.

And trust me, I've never been afraid of anything all my effing life.

Author's Note:

Hello everyone! Sorry for uploading a little late but it was as if I ran out of stuff. And when I run out of writing, I start reading. Though that doesn't mean the chapter's just a filler. It will have major significance later on in the story. I hope you comment and give me feedback on this. I dedicate this chapter to my real-life bestie @takeabigdump for making me the awesome new cover for my story. Thanks a bunch, hon :*

The blue eyes are not Lucille's. I just wanted to show you the color of her eyes. It's another one of my favorites :D What do you think? Take care and stay happy and safe wherever you are :)