I'm working on revising chapters. I found a way to fix chapters without detracting from my regular chapters. So, enjoy the revised prologue!
I'm so tired…
Letting out a yawn as I scan the messy party room, observing the cider on the floor and the snacks scattered everywhere. I see the spot on the carpet that Dipper and I messed up. It's not that noticeable. I probably won't be directly blamed for it. Wait, I will be blamed for it. My parents… oh, man, what will they say?
Never mind that. It's not important. Well, it is important, but maybe I can go to bed while my parents are supervising the servants and deal with it tomorrow, they won't be as mad. Right? Right.
I mentally recap the night's events as I trudge sleepily back to my room. After Dipper and I messed up the carpet, we hung around with Mabel and her friends for a while, and then went to the home theater and marathoned Ghost Harassers until Mabel poked her head in and said that it was time the both of them to go home.
I reach my door. It's rather big, outlined in gold, and painted a gleaming white, with a silvery doorknob. I'm spoiled. What kid my age has a door as overdone as this? Not to mention, my room itself is probably a dozen times more expensive than my door. I try to turn my doorknob.
It's locked.
How could this happen? Why is my door locked?
My answer comes in an oh-so-familiar voice. In a sharp bark that is probably my name, it's so angry, I can't tell.
"PACIFICA ELISE NORTHWEST!"
Yep. It's my father. I'm not surprised, but so much for waiting until tomorrow! Why do I have such bad luck?! I don't turn around. Rebel. Don't' turn. Don't look. Don't. Do. Anything.
Then, I feel an inexplicable pain on my back. Long, sharp nails. Oh, my mother came to hurt me too. How pleasant… I hear a ripping sound and I realize my dress is partially ripped. Oh, well. I hated this dress anyways. I know my mother's trying to get me to turn around, but I still don't. My mother's fingernails dig into my mostly bare back and I wince in pain. Fine. I'll turn around.
Trying to keep my facial expression calm, I slowly turn around, holding my shoulders to keep the dress from falling. Don't glare. Don't frown. Don't cry. No expression. Don't give them the reaction they want.
Then, the sharp sting of a palm and a familiar golden ring slams itself on my cheek, and I stumble backwards in pain, my back pressed up against the door. Shoot! I was expecting them to slap me, but not this hard!
"HOW DARE YOU! YOU HAVE DISHONORED OUR FAMILY, AND RUINED OUR REPUTATION!"
How dare I? HOW DARE I? That's…that's ridiculous! I feel anger boiling up inside of me.
"You left all those people to die, and then tried to shove me in a shelter and resort to cannibalism! Unlike you, I have dignity, and sense! News Flash; I actually care more about people than money, you know!"
My mother slaps me, hard. It knocks me to the ground. Those nails made it hurt more. I attempt to rise several times, but I'm so tired and hurt that I can't get up. I. Can't. Get. Up. Then, my father takes my room key out of my pocket, and unlocks the door. Yes, my lock is outside my door. I guess now I know why.
I fall to the ground thanks to gravity, and groan. My father unceremoniously picks me up, walks into my room and dumps me on the ground, then throws the bell at my head.
"Maybe you need to learn a lesson." He says. He then exits the room and the door locks again.
I sit there in stunned silence for several seconds. Then my brain powers on again and I realize what just happened. I jump on the door and scream.
"LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!" I bang on the door. I throw my shoes at it. I smack it. I kick it. Nothing. I yell in frustration.
What...what do...
What do I do now?