To her it was the most romantic gesture in human existence. A man, her boyfriend none the less, standing outside with a boombox held high above his head, blaring some generic, 80s love song. It was the most classic move after a break up. It made her heart flop and her head swoon. No matter how disgustingly cheddar filled the performance was, it made her feelings of love for the man explode in a fantastic display of teenage stupidity. Everything about it was sweet and kind and beautiful in every way.
That was exactly how the seventeen year old Cora Cordazzi felt as she leaned out the balcony, holding two hands over an enormous baby bulge while she cooed over her lover's cliché attempt at making up. However, Cora Cordazzi is not the main focus of this story. She may be mentioned, what with the bastard child slowly devouring her insides and all, but the soon-to-be Mrs. Cordazzi is not our heroine. While she may occasionally be on heroin, she is not the wonderful, exciting main character in this tale. But to use the adjectives 'wonderful' and 'exciting' to describe our actual heroine would be like describing Cora as 'smart' or 'abstinent'.
Instead of swooning over the love her older sister and her lovely boyfriend shared, she was furiously stuffing cotton in her ears in hopes of escaping the clutches of "I Want to Know What Love Is" and the thoughts she was having about how idiotic the Satan spawn her sister birthed would be. This just do happens to be our heroine, an endlessly irritated fourteen year old female by the name of Rosabel Cordazzi. The very same female who was desperately trying to get even the tiniest bit work done in her closet of a bedroom while simultaneously preparing herself for the erotic moaning that would soon be permeating from her sister's actually bed containing bedroom.
She was also contemplating suicide, just to show off her vast thought capacity. Rosabel flipped the chalkboard hanging next to her over, revealing an immense sea of tally marks, and added yet another line to the pile. That made fifty-three. And the thought of making fifty-three made Rosabel push herself out of the desk she was so meticulously working over. It held a rather expensive looking computer and a few pencils on its rickety surface. The furnishing nearly collapsed when she pushed her chair in. Mental note to go buy duct tape to fix that. Rosabel was an extreme believer in the 'Duct tape fixes everything and anything' party.
"Fifty-three, Fifty-mother-fucking-three." she stopped her sister just before she reached the door. The giant gut that now held a human fetus stared Rosabel down like a pack of furious wolves. Meaning that Cora had literally drawn a set of evil faces on her pregnant stomach. As if the drugs and drinking weren't enough, now intense Sharpie poisoning could be added to the list. Rosabel was seriously considering simply putting her sister out of her misery.
It would be a relief to rid the world of her almost mentally retarded level of stupidity. Rosabel contorted her normal 'I'd rather be home' scowl into an expression of sheer irate fury. Ignorance was bliss for Cora, the fifteen year old who lacked a single clue as to why teen pregnancies are bad and why her younger sibling was howling about numbers when it wasn't even math class.
"You should stop spending so much time on your little computer. I think it's making you stupid," Cora poked a perfectly manicured fingernail into Rosabel's temple. She let out a snarl that would terrify even the fiercest of Vikings. But Cora simply sniggered at the world less remark. Even an ancient drunkard from Denmark who pillaged for fun was smarter than her. But she'd never know that. She was simply too brainless to realize it. So she and her sister remained in an epic stare down, testing each other's wit and perseverance silently.
"Why don't you just throw him out? You got together at fourteen, fucked, and now you've broken up made up fifty-three times. What can he possibly hold for you?" Rosabel sneered. Another prod with the same overly pampered nail.
"You're just jelly-jealous because you've never had a boyfriend~" she crooned, using her tremendous gut to push Rosabel out of the way. In two seconds flat Cora had left the neighborhood entirely, endangering her child more than all the smoking and drinking they would participate in that night ever could. The sheer carelessness made little Rosabel absolutely livid. She stomped back to her room, leaving burning footprints in the severely stained carpet that lined her home. Why did she have to have such an imbecile for a sibling?
Cora would only end up polluting the universe with her bastard child, so why was she still alive? Had natural selection just ceased entirely? Rosabel pushed the curtain she was being forced to use as a door aside before slumping into her desk chair. Her ignoramus of a sister had broken the barrier in a homicidal, hormone-induced mood swing a few weeks earlier. She sneered at her pitifully furnished room, letting out a huge sigh. The only thing she had to sleep on was a molding trampoline that had been discovered in an alley and covered by three layers of sheets and a huge pile of dirty clothing. Cora had taken Rosabel's bed after breaking her own during 'study time' with the oh-so notorious boyfriend.
Rosabel shifted her attention from the roaring anger slowly building within her soul to the enormous monitor in front of her. The work she was so desperately trying to finish had not been attended to yet. Her gangly fingers began wrecking the keyboard like some sort of evil, Japan destroying monster. After a good thirty minutes of finger cramps and searing eye pains, Rosabel paused. She took a good minute, and that was just about the longest amount of time she hadn't had a log up her ass by her sister's account, to consider her place in life.
Rosabel spent 18 hours on her computer every day, leaving only six for sleeping, eating, and general other necessities. On nights that she couldn't finish her work in time, she allowed herself about an hour to take care of basic human needs. She seriously needed to reconsider her days on earth. Now, most of you would probably urge her onward if you found out she was working on some intense stop the hurt in Africa project, however, she was doing absolutely nothing of the sort. She was helping a very important friend of the family figure a few things out. I suppose there's no harm in telling you that this friend of the family is a wanted criminal, that's most likely the reason you came to read the tale of Rosabel and her adventurous life.
In the present, she was busily serving a multitude of families. The financials were fantastic, but her mind was in a constant muddle. However, with absolutely no support from her parents whatsoever, all the money went straight to her sister's bastard child and the growing food demand. Which was exactly why Rosabel wouldn't be sleeping that night. She had about seven more pieces of information to get her hands on in order to raise enough money to support her pesky sibling while she was gone. The leader of the group of family friends called for her immediate support in Japan.
What he could possibly need she hadn't the faintest clue, but there was probably a good deal of pain in her future if she didn't immediately oblige to his requests. No matter how disgustingly dangerous it was for her to leave the house. Rosabel was no goody two shoes. She was more of a steal both your shoes, set them on fire, and put them back on your feet sort of girl. Though she'd never take the risk of hurting someone directly for fear of being hurt herself. You can be a wanted criminal and still hold onto a spinelessly wimpy spirit. Rosabel had done just that, surprisingly enough.
She flicked past a few screens, having distracted herself with the current state of her being so thoroughly that she felt inclined to work at full speed. Rosabel could hear the sounds of ecstatic young lovers creeping through the doorway, meaning she wouldn't be able to get any work done for the next hour. The female decided to use her small window of time to pack everything away for her trip.
Packing to her meant taking a paper bag, pushing all the clothing on her trampoline bed into said bag, before stapling the container shut. She had sent all the computer technology she required to a random address and her boss had picked up the parcel of USB ports and specially ordered wires and whatever other computer strangeness her methods demanded. In all honesty, her boss was a bit frightened to open the package and find out what was inside. Rosabel then went-
"Stop that! Stop doing your creepy eye thing!" an overly zealous blonde ripped a hole straight through her un-blissful bout of nostalgia. Rosabel, who was seated next to said consistently excited yellow haired male on a plane, jumped sharply. She and the blonde boy were on the way to Japan for a reason less than intelligent.
"Right! Gotcha!" Rosabel howled. She was the heroine that nobody ever asked for but nonetheless received.