The Rebel's Tamer

When life sucks, how should a person respond? Cry and hope everything will get better? That's laughable, Chanelle thought. One cannot expect others to be good just because that one person is behaving. People do not care what a person feels, it's human nature to seek what is convenient to self. Everyone is selfish. Chanelle chuckled sarcastically, she's done being a kid, and that's sad to admit. If the pain is too much, is it still worth it to sulk over? Especially when it is most likely to happen again. "When life f***s you, just moan," she said to her friend, smirking. Chanelle boozed her favorite drink, not minding her schedule for the next day. She's not the center of attraction anyway, so why bother looking sane. On the other hand, her good father will surely be mad and will try to cut her allowance for a week. She doesn't need it, she earns her own money, but she has to act dependent or else her family will watch her moves, and that's the last thing she would want for herself. Her friend, Agatha, nodded. "Ah!" she drunkenly moaned so loud that it drew the attention of others. Mostly men. They both laughed after a second pause, unintentionally alluring some fuckboys around the corner. Chanelle rolled her eyes the moment she realized, she's used to it, but still hates it. A group of overweening men gathered on their table, a table for two is now too crowded. "Hello there, ladies. Mind if we join you? You both seem to be having a splendid evening, and we thought we might enhance the enjoyment," a loquacious man interjected, his demeanor not quite aligning with Chanelle's preferences. With a subtle exchange of glances among his companions, their intentions were unmistakable. "We do mind, actually," Chanelle retorted, her irritation palpable. "It's quite evident this table is set for two, and the sudden company of five uninvited gentlemen doesn't sit well with me." "Really now? Playing hard to get, are we, darling? How adorable," the man persisted, oblivious to her clear disinterest. The audacity. "No, I'm simply not interested. There's nothing compelling about any of you. Perhaps better luck next time?" Chanelle dismissed, her patience wearing thin. Once more, she drained her glass to the dregs, the room beginning to sway in a haze of alcohol-induced amusement. Neon lights hit the faces of the guys, she saw how pissed they were with what she just said. She's not a snob, and she might be drunk, but she's still sane enough to reject ugly, feeling entitled men. Agatha faked laughing. "Sorry boys, my friend is just brokenhearted. Please excuse her for tonight, she just needs space from men!" her friend excused, obviously a lie but saving her ass from getting punched by typical shallow minded boys. The five guys showed their annoyance, but eventually leave. "That's a good excuse," she complimented her equally drunk best friend. "I know right? It had to be better. The last time I told men we're gay, they're still willing to f**k us." "Because that's a lame excuse," Chanelle said, losing interest in drinking, she's done. As stubborn as they both are, Chanelle and Agatha did not bother booking for a ride, instead, they decided to play rock paper scissors. The one to drive will be the one to blame if they run into an accident, which is most likely to happen considering their state. "Rock, scissors, papers!" "b***h! There's no stick in the choices!" And Chanelle lost, but both are too reckless to care. Their rich and powerful families will take care of their mess anyway, it's always been that way. They don't care what time is it, because they escaped from home, as long as they arrived before dawn. "Whoooo!" Their cheers echoed through the night air as the car swerved and gyrated, teetering dangerously close to neighboring vehicles. Horns blared angrily from disgruntled drivers, but the two occupants of the car paid no heed. Tonight belonged to them, and tomorrow was a distant concern. Predictably, their reckless joyride led them to collide with traffic cones and navigate through the labyrinth of a wet, under-construction road. Eventually, the car ground to a halt, wisps of smoke curling from the hood. Yet, in their inebriated haze, they were too lethargic to investigate further, eventually succumbing to slumber, not through mishap, but the embrace of intoxication. "You're grounded, badly." A pair of judgemental eyes stared at her pathetically, her younger brother whom Chanelle only sees once a month, and now he's in her room to remind her the consequence of her actions last night. She stretched her arms and sat down. Her room is magically cleaned, must be the maids. Who else will clean her vomit. "Good. Now I won't have to dress up in a cheap shirt, with the color I hate the most," she emphasized, looking at the bright orange campaign shirt her brother is wearing. The graphic design is so cheap, the font is ugly, same with the face of her running-for-office father. "You really cannot hide your ugly behavior, no?" Chanelle rolled her eyes and smirked. "I'm just true to myself, unlike someone who'd wipe his father's mess even though he's against it. Or not? maybe you still idolize him like when we were kids, I feel bad for you." She rose up and walked towards the door, indifferent. "Chanelle!" Her brother called her, furiously. "Come on, I'm still a year older than you, don't be such a brat." She opened her door in a foul mood, to her surprise, her father was on the other side, now in front of her. As furious as she is, her father gave her a strong slap which woke her senses up. She blinked once, and twice before unwanted tears fell. She couldn't move or react, she's startled, and probably a little afraid, and then followed by hurting. "You used to listen well, what happened Chanelle? What are you doing, trying to sabotage your father's candidacy? For what?" the voice of her father thundered. She massages the side of her face, she couldn't believe that after all this time, her father would resort to violence because she tainted his name, the one she used to be associated with as she studies and receives medals. Now her father looks like he wants to disown her, and for her, that would be better. Chanelle had the guts to smirk, the other side of her face is burning, now beginning to numb, and the ringing in her ear brought by the impact is annoying. What a way to start a day. "Like you said, I used to, but not anymore. What's more to hear? Just snap your fingers and make your people clean everything, like usual. Since you have so many connections, that should be easy right?" she talked back, with an awful grin, and angry gaze. "You!" She expected a slap again...but it didn't come when her brother interfered. "Dad! There's no point in doing that, you're just wasting your time for trash, let's just go." She couldn't believe she'd feel indebted to her brother. Then she was left alone, with guards all around the house, preventing her from escaping, not protecting from invaders. Chanelle locked the door and searched for her phone, only to find it nowhere. "Asshole," she whispered frustratedly, face on palms, tearing up. If only her mother was around, she would have someone to side with her, well, everything's better when her Mom is still alive. Because after her mother died from cancer, her father went unhinged, he became too invested with power and money. And her younger brother who used to be a sweet child, changed for the worse as well. She's left alone hanging around the good memories, and forever wishing she'd survive, and manage to escape from a shithole. She stood up and tried to compose herself like she always does. Feelings of pity rushed through her system as she saw herself in the mirror, cheek swollen, eyes sad. "f**k. Don't cry, bitch." For the meantime, she has to save the money she's earning, and run away. Far from everyone whose only intention is to hurt her, and lock her up from pursuing freedom and genuine happiness. “What does genuine even mean?" she ponders, her thoughts wandering into the depths of her longing. It's been an eternity since she last basked in the comforting embrace of true warmth.