Chapter 1
I woke up feeling relaxed. Scratching my head I try to remember the dream I had last night so I could record it. I paused realizing I didn't have a dream. That's weird. I always have dreams. Unsure what to do with myself I flip through my journal.
I get the worst nightmares. When I was young Metu, my nanny, finally convinced my mother to cough up the money to let me go see a therapist. Overactive imagination, the therapist said. Immediately she diagnosed me with ADHD. What this had to do with nightmares, I have no idea. She told Metu to go out and buy me a journal, that I would record my dreams in, every night. At first I didn't want to. I screamed and cried and begged becuase I always got what I wanted. That's what Metu was hired for, but she wouldn't put up with this. From then on, she would sit me down in the morning and watch me write down every detail I remembered about my dreams. Metu didn't like watching me write these dreams down because she said they frightened her. Well, they scared the shit outa me, too.
When I got older Metu realized, this journal, didn't do crap about my nightmares. All those mornings she made sure to wake up before I did so she could watch me record these horrible dreams, for nothing.
So, Metu stopped making me write down my dreams a long time ago, but I found it comforting and continued to do it every day.
I flip past a page covered in bright red maker. I stop and go back to that page, forcing myself to remember the pain that came with that nightmare.
In the dream there was so much red. It clung to my skin causing claustrophobia. I was trying to escape from the red but it was surrounding me. I clawed at the red trying to rip though it, but it was impenetrable. I remember opening my mouth to scream for help but as soon as my lips parted, the red filled my mouth, closing off the air trying to reach my lungs.
I shut the memory from my mind, and squirm in my bed. I sit up in my bed and fold my golden legs on top of each other.
I press my palms together and close my eyes, starting the meditation process. I empty my mind and focus only on my breathing.
I open my eyes to see the beautiful purple velvet curtain slide open and shoot a ray of morning sunshine into my face. I look over at Metu and watch her scurry from the window she just opened, to the door waiting for me to give orders. Metu is getting older, I think as I notice her wrinkles and under eye bags have become more pronounced on her face. Her tired brown eyes look humble and wise surrounded by the brown hair that had escaped her loose bun.
I step down from my luxurious bed and walk over to the closet, a room about half the size of my bed room. Running my hands through the soft fabrics I select a silk kimono and throw it over the tank top and shorts I wore to sleep.
"What would you like for breakfast dear?" Metu asks.
"The usual. But chocolate milk instead of juice. And then I would like to go for a walk in the park. Cancel all lessons."
"But dear..."
I cut her off.
"I don't care what it is, Metu, I want to go for a walk."
I glance out the large window and admire the beautiful summer morning.
Then I turn around and march out of the room, leaving Metu speechless.
I head towards the bathroom that lies past my mothers bedroom. On my way, I hear the noises of my mother having morning sex with her newest lover. I roll my eyes, used to the men my mother brings home.
Is my mother a whore? No, she isn't. My mother is the beautiful Reina Segovia. And no matter how many mistakes she makes or what her reputation is, her fans still love her.
It makes me sick.
She probably just got home from her concert and picked up another poor guy, who seems to be, head over heels in love with my mother.
In the bathroom I begin my normal routine of brushing out my thick black hair and washing my blemish free face. After brushing my teeth, I admire my features in the mirror. My hair shines as it cascades over my shoulders and my light blue eyes give my face a certain sex appeal that, even men twice my age, drool over. I start brushing the black mascara over my already long lashes and sweep eyeliner on to my eyes. Satisfied with myself, I saunter down the polished oak staircase and to the kitchen where my breakfast is waiting. I finish most of it and then go up to my room to change, pulling on a deep blue Ralph Lauren blouse with cutouts on the hem and a pair of light wash denim shorts. After putting on a pair of sneakers, I jog outside hoping to avoid any confrontation from Metu.
I see Metu standing in front of the door and I roll my eyes.
"What are you doing Metu?"
"I cannot allow you to go out by yourself."
"Did you cancel my lessons, Metu?", I ask raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, dear but I'm afraid if you want to go out, I must come with you."
I huff. "I want to go out alone. Why can't I ever just do what I want. You always baby me."
"I give you everything you want. But I can't let you go alone. It's far too dangerous."
"Too dangerous?" You've gotta be fucking kidding me. "I'm sixteen, Metu, not five. Just leave me alone."
I run back to my room and sit in a crisscross position and try to meditate again. Unable to sink back into the calm of meditation, I grab the shiny, expensive guitar sitting by my bed and begin to pluck the beautiful, slow melody of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.
I sink into the sadness of the song and let the music wash over me feeling empowered by the song. After I finish, I begin to play Bach's "Air". I harmonize my voice with the tune creating a storm of melody as the song fills up the room. Closing my eyes, I let myself go and imagine myself floating, letting the song carry me where ever it pleases. Playing the last chord I open my eyes to find myself three feet above my bed floating in the air. I see the air swirling around me as if dancing to the music but realizing the music has ended the air seems to rest back into its normal state. I sigh and will myself down onto the ground.
I discovered this little trick last year the week after my birthday. At first I was terrified, and refused to touch any musical instruments, in fear I would lose control again and fly out the window but I've gotten used to it. It's always been that I just hover above the ground a few feet and then I am always able to lower myself down afterward.
I look out the window longingly.
Why should I have to do what Metu says? She's not my mother. She's not in charge of me.
I grab my beautiful redwood ukelele and stuff it in my bag.
Securing the bag over my shoulder, I climb out the window and jump down onto the roof of the first story. I sneak across the roof with incredible balance and jump down from the roof landing on my feet. I wince as I feel the impact of the jump in my feet but I quickly recover and run across our green lawn and out the gates of our brick mansion.
