After Midnight

chapter ONE

Sometimes I wonder: is my hatred for elite parties more, or my love for my family?

Is getting all glammed up every week really worth anything at all?

I don’t think so.

“You are still not ready!” comes my Mum’s voice from the doorway. “The guests would be here any second and you aren’t even dressed nicely!”

I sigh. Glance over my shoulder. “Mum, you have two other daughters that are really into this stuff. Why do you always have to target me?” I never raise my voice in front of her. But, now I have had enough.

She looks mad. “And I have told you you’re the prettiest of them all. What other reason do you need?”

“You just don’t get it!” I get up, my hands in the air out of frustration. “I wasn’t made for all this! I don’t like these parties anymore. Why do we waste so much money on these stupid parties?”

Mum is adamant in so many things. I used to attend these parties with much interest before, but I don’t like them anymore. I don’t like how teenage boys and old men stare at me. I don’t like how Mum always makes me wear dresses that have a revealing back or they don’t have any sleeves what so ever.

But, of course she wants to carry with the tradition of our ancestors.

“You are coming downstairs in ten minutes and if you don’t, then your visits to that girls house are banned.” And with usual threat, she storms away, her heels clicking against the marble floor.

See how amazing she is? How she cares about my life? I am no less than a toy to her, like a Barbie doll whom she dresses and plays with just how she likes. How she wants. And funny thing, even though I argue a lot with my step-mother, she always wins. I always give in.

And that makes me pathetic.

Weak.

Powerless.

There are these days when all I do is curl up in a tight ball in my bed and watch YouTube. There are days when it feels like dark clouds are above my head and there would be no hint of a sun in my life. I feel my lowest in those days, as if I can’t breathe properly. Like someone is suffocating me. I am even extra moody, frustrated and cry for no reason.

This has been going on since Dad married Mum. Approximately eight months ago.

I close the book I was reading and pick up my phone, dialing Aaila’s number.

“I am on my way,” my best friend says, enthusiasm in her voice evident.

“Did you get it for me?” I start biting my nails. Nervousness.

Car honking and blaring sounds from her side. If there is anything crazy about Aaila other than the 100 scarves she owns, it’s her lunatic driving skills. Me, being her bestest friend in the whole wide world doesn’t trust to sit in the car she drives. I do wish to at least get married.

“Obviously. I can’t wait to see your Mum’s reaction. I hope she doesn’t snap a vein,” she chuckles.

I can’t help but giggle too. “Me too. Okay, I just wanted to confirm if you had it. Because if I am really going to go in front of all those males, I need a protection.”

“You do, Aabi!” she whistles and cuts the call.

Around 2 minutes later, Aaila bursts into my bedroom, panting like a dehydrated dog. She drops the bags she was holding on the floor and comes running towards my wide open arms.

“Heyyyy!” she chirps, squeezing the life out of me. I make fake choking noises. She pulls back and smacks my arm. “Drama Queen.”

I stick my tongue out at her. I know. I am a child still.

“Does she know?” Aaila raises a brow, pushing off her boots and sitting cross legged on the bed.

I lean my hip against the dresser. “No, she doesn’t. I want to surprise her. After all, I don’t give her any surprises.” My lips curl back to reveal a devilish smirk.

Aaila pouts. “Your brother is so hot. Do you think he likes me?”

I stare at her. Burst out laughing. “He has a girlfriend, Aails. And besides, you are too good for him. He is a douche, and the last thing you want is being cheated on or get your heart broken, so. . .”

She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Yeah, yeah I get it. I was just saying he is handsome.” She hops up. “Come on. Lets get you ready, The Elite.”

“Staphh!” I protest but she somehow manhandles me into sitting in the chair and turns on those twinkle lights that are wayyy brighter than they should be.

“You need to look pretty. Seriously, don’t you ever sleep? Look at your dark circles.”

I look at myself in the mirror. And oh boy. I needed help with those purple under eye bags that made me look no less than a zombie. I could hardly sleep at nights.

“Something is wrong with me. I can’t sleep, like, ever. And when sleep finally comes, the sun is already up and you know what that means. The bells start ringing in the house.”

Aaila gives me sorry eyes in the mirror but says nothing. She knows how much I despise people pitying me. I hate pitying more than these parties. I feel my hair being tugged back tightly, which obviously makes me hiss in pain.

“Drama Queen.”

“I am not! You are literally trying to break my hair, aren’t you?” I make faces. “I knew you were jealous of me.”

“Rightttt,” she gasps, “I am SOOO jelly of you. Tell me, is it the hair or the pretty lashes?”

“Both,” I grin.

After five minutes, I am a completely different person. Brand new. The dress I am wearing is modest, white in color and lose enough to not show off any of my curves, and I am pretty curvy. Shoes: my Doc Martens, because why not? I was never the heels type of girl. And up to my face is a grand reveal.

“Are you sure about it?” Aaila whispers.

I looks at my head covered in a beautiful brown scarf.

“Yes.”

I am so ready.