A/N;; I said I was going to work on Define "Normal" last time…
I lied.
Instead, you get a new fanfic! It even has that NEW FICCY SMELL!
This idea has been SWIMMING around in this clusterfuck I call my "brain" and "thoughts" for MONTHS. I believe it's almost been a year since this idea. I can't even remember when I thought this up. I really can't.
I hope you enjoy. This is seriously a darker and twisted-er fic than I have ever wrote.
Making Fiends © Amy Winfrey
Reflection © Mulan
"Who is that girl I see?
Staring straight back at me?
Why is my reflection someone I don't know?
Must I pretend that I'm someone else for all time?
When will my reflection show who I am inside?"
-"Reflection" performed by Christina Aguilera
Fingertips trailed the raindrops gliding down the glass as she sighed. Pressing her forehead full of blonde hair against the window, she gave a loud, audible groan. The man with balding hair and a dark blond mustache didn't glance over at the girl, but ignored her actions.
"Why are we coming back here?"
"Grandma left me the house. Of course I'll take it. We have the money, the house, and the business now." She wrinkles her nose. "Charlotte Lindsey Rose, buck up. You use to love it here."
"But now… I realize it wasn't that great." The sign said STAY OUT OF CLAMBURG! as the two drove by in the Subaru the man owned zoomed down the drenched road.
"What about that Veronica girl?"
"Vendetta." A young, hard and angry looking face flashed in her head, as young as nine. She cringed. "I don't think we were that good of friends, Daddy."
"Maybe you changed." She felt her heart sting, and she knew not even her father wanted her around. Grandma was the only one who did. "You've certainly grew up beautiful. You're lucky you got my looks mostly." She stayed quiet. He glanced at her in his peripheral vision, and shook his head.
"You were quite annoying as a child." She nodded, ignoring his comments, and watched as the pulled up to the brightly colored pink house that stood out against darkened skies. The moving van was there and workers were working fast to make sure nothing grew damp from the rain.
Walking inside and up the stairs, she found an empty room with a view of the woods and pond by it. "Is this where you want your room to be, Miss Rose?"
"Yes." She walked out and the movers began placing her items in the large sized room. She walks downstairs to hear her father chatting giddily on the phone to his business partner in Georgia, and Charlotte glares. He didn't care Grandma was dead, he just wanted her money.
"Daddy," she said, trying to hide her anger. "I want to talk to y-."
"Not now, Charlotte, honey," he said in a faux-sweet tone, pretending he cared. "I'm talking to a friend of mine. How about you go and see if you can call up one of your old friends? Hmm? Or rearrange your room?"
"Okay, Daddy." Moving past the exiting works, she entered her room, and pushed everything against a certain wall. She was absent-mindedly working, and thinking about the life she use to live in Clamburg.
Maybe no one had changed? Maybe Vendetta was mean still, and Maggie was sarcastic and poetic. Maybe Marion was still trying to go to Canada, and Malachi spoke with his funny accent. And Mort still was weird! She smiled.
She would just act like old-Charlotte. New-Charlotte didn't need to be seen. Old-Charlotte could hide her sorrows better than new-Charlotte. New-Charlotte stays up crying all night, or when she does sleep, it's nightmares, while old-Charlotte sleeps right away, and dreams of the moon and cheese a sprinkles. Old-Charlotte would want to be a telemarketer for fun, while new-Charlotte just wants to go away from her father and this life she leads itself.
Charlotte fell back on her bed, her blonde hair growing messy. School starts within a week. She better start practicing being old-Charlotte again.
AAAAAAAAAAAND THERE'S ARE PROLOGUE! Seriously, I'm typing up chapter one right now. I really have this story pretty much planned out in my head.
OOC is a warning. Themes too. And more when we get into this story.
-DAM