The Reincarnation of Olive Davis

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗙𝗼𝘂𝗿

"Please tell me why my daughter is born with blue eyes!"

"I promise baby I never slept with anyone else, she is yours!"

"Do you take me for a fool!?"

"She doesn't look like none of us Lilith!"

"Baby please I--"

"Don't lie to me!"

That was the first time my father hit my mother. They were arguing over me, it was always me.

. . .

"Mummy!" I shouted, jolting up.

My mother rushed into my room, the sound of thunder making me flinch, I quickly pulled my cover over my head.

"Nightmare again?" She asked softly pulling me into her arms.

I nodded frantically, clutching her shirt.

"Ceal Vincent" I mumbled.

. . .

"Ma'am you are aware that your daughter keeps saying the name of a fifty year old mafia boss" The therapist said.

I sat next to my mother, burying my head into her clothes.

"Are you sure she never watched the news may be with you, that could be the source of her repeated nightmares?"

"She must have overheard his name" The therapist insisted.

However, that wasn't the case.

"Olivia?" The therapist called out to me.

I slowly turned my head to stare at her. I gripped my mother's shirt tighter, my eyes widening in fright "lo jodí!" (I f****d up!) I screamed, tears racing down my cheek.

The therapist stared at me, shock evident in her eyes. My mother started shaking me vigorously "What did you say Olivia!" She shouted.

I flinched scared of my mother's touch "I'm sorry mama" I spoke

She stared at me shockingly.

That was the first time I spoke in a foreign tongue, more or else refer to my mother as 'mama'

. . .

"Miss Smith, I have called you in here today because your daughter has been showing signs of aggressive behaviour"

"My daughter isn't aggressive!" My mother defended

"Miss Smith." The principal spoke.

"She slammed a child's head against his desk repeatedly because he took her pencil" The principal spoke.

My mother gasped, while I sat quietly in the chair next to her.

"No debería haber tomado lo que eran minas" (He shouldn't have taken what was mines) I spat.

The principal stared at me stunned "English Olivia" My mother spat, gripping my hand harshly.

"It was mines!" I shouted

"I'm sorry about her behaviour" my mother said, pulling me upright.

"I'll deal with her" She rushed out and dragged me out of the office.

. . .

"Olivia you need to stop!" My mother cried

"Please Olivia" she begged, falling onto her knees.

I said nothing, keeping my facial expression nonchalant as I walked up to her. She wrapped her hands around my little body and drew me closer to her. I trailed my hands through her hair, as she cried.

. . .

"Olivia?" My mother called outside my room.

"Come in" I said and turned back to my drawing.

"You know your father loved to draw"

I rolled my eyes "Papa left" I mumbled

"But Oliv--"

My mother's words got caught in her throat, she gripped my chin, her fingers sinking into my cheeks "What have I told you about this!" She screams.

Like always, I watched her with a blank facial expression. I pulled out of her hold and stared down at my drawing.

"El hombre que me mato" (The man that killed me) I spat, gripping my pencil and slamming it down on the paper in the middle of his forehead.

My mother snatched the paper and stormed out of the room.

"This has to stop" she mumbled stopping at my door.

It wouldn't stop, it couldn't. I'm angry.

I'm angry.

I'm so f*****g angry.

. . .

"Happy sixteen birthday Olivia!" She shouted.

I walked down the stairs and looked around "Where is papa?" I asked

"He couldn't make it" she said softly.

I gripped the handle of the railing tighter "Mi familia?" I raised an eyebrow

She looked away. "They have work"

I chuckled, shaking my head as I walked back upstairs.

"Olivia!" My mother called behind me.

. . .

I sat on the table on one of the outside benches in my school, my foot rested on the seat, my hoodie over my head as I gripped a cigarette in between my fingertips.

"Look at you, you think you rule the school"

I looked up staring at the supposedly queen Bee, her hand wrapped around the waist of her boyfriend, the high school's golden boy.

Her boyfriend stared me up and down and smirked. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" She shouted slapping the cigarette out of my hand.

I chuckled and got off the table, I attempted to walk past her but she grew balls and shoved my shoulder. I stumbled backward and stood still.

My hands shot up to her neck "I'll cut off your hand and gift it back to you if ever touch me again" I gritted out.

I squeezed tighter around her neck, her hands pulling at my wrist. I tilted her head, her eyes looking to the side. "Watch, look at how your boyfriend didn't do anything" I said amusingly.

I watched her eyes roll back. I rolled my eyes and released my grip and walked past her.

. . .

"Who are you?" My therapist questioned

"Olivia Smith" I said, keeping my voice flat.

"Who is Olive Davis?" She asked.

"She is me" I said.

The therapist sighed "Who are you?"

"I'm Olivia Smith" I gritted out

"Who is Olive Davis?"

I gripped my hair pulling on it slightly "She is me!" I yelled.

"Olivia.." The therapist trialed out

"Shut up" I mumbled and got off the chair.

"I won't be coming back here" I mumbled, slamming the door.

. . .

"Olivia you need your therapist" My mother argued.

I narrowed my eyes at her "I don't need anyone"

She slapped me across my face, tears trailing down her cheek.

I laughed "Hit me, hit me like you have always been doing for eighteen years of my life"

I turned my head back to face her, scorning the expression everyone wore. Fear, sympathy, shock.

"Olivia you're sixteen.." my mother whispered

I shook my head and headed towards the stairs "no, no, no, no" I mumbled under my breath.

. . .

I gripped my hair while staring at myself in the mirror. I have punched it so many times, there were crack marks along the glass, some holes where fallen pieces of glass used to fill.

Long black hair and dark blue eyes, a diamond face, and plump pink lips.

I looked neither like my father nor my mother, the only thing I had was my mother's black hair, but the rest of my genes-- it came from, it came from--

Tears welled up into my eyes staring at the blonde-haired girl behind me, she was crying. "Olive" I called

She flinched, I looked towards my drawing. Ceal Vincent.

I walked towards my drawing, I grabbed the canvas. "Te mataré" (I will kill you) I spat.

. . .

"It's only until you're eighteen birthday and I'll come back for you" my mother whispered pulling me into her arms.

"Boarding school, is just like selling me" I muttered pulling away.

"Selling you?" She questioned

I rolled my eyes and turned around. I stared at the old building with a large gate surrounding it.

I stared at the woman walking up to the gate, she shoved a key inside and twisted her hand, I narrowed my eyes at the key.

"Don't worry ma'am we will take good care of her" she reassured my mother.

I scoffed and walked past her.

. . .

"You will be a perfect young lady, just like how you were meant to be once I'm done with you" the woman said, pushing open a door.

I looked inside the empty room, then looked back at her. "Give me the keys to the gate" I said.

She laughed and pulled it out of her pocket "You're never getting these keys from out of my hand"

I smirked and walked into the room.

"A year and a half it is" I smiled

She raised an eyebrow at my switch in personality.

. . .

Blood sprayed upon my face, I laughed as the woman screamed.

I gripped her now chopped hand, that held the keys inside. I pulled open her fingers "And you said I wasn't getting the keys from out of your hand" I chuckled

The woman, who I have come to know her name as 'b***h' stared at me, scared, like a coward she is. She pulled her hand into her jacket, tears trailing down her face as she tried to stop the bleeding.

"Why, why now-- when you're finally getting to leave" she choked out.

I rolled my eyes "I have people to kill" I mumbled

I glanced at her car keys "And I'll be taking those as well"

. . .

I drove her car, stopping at the front gate. I got out and walked a bit closer, shoving the bloody keys inside. I threw it in the grass when I was finished, giving these other uptight girls freedom that they so needed.

"Ceal Vincent" I mumbled, gripping the staring wheel.

. . .