I don't know.
Of course I don't, neither do you, none of us probably does. My family has always been like broken glass. You know? I mean, you can't just walk into the room carrying chocolate for your father but then find out you have to give it to his grave. You can't walk into his funeral and have the lawyer give you all of his possessions and a vial that's probably going to break as soon as you touch it a little too hard and has evidence of your father's paranoia. Hi, I am Raven and welcome to.... whatever my life is.
So, I don't know. I don't know what my life is right now, my cousin's house and school have done nothing to help me. I mean, sure I've got chocolates, ice cream, cards, love and all that stuff. I mean other than food, I don't need anything else. My father was distant, my mother is..... somewhere in this universe after me and my father's overly boring self, so.... yup. I still cried because no matter what he did, we still had some happy moments but that's mostly it. His death couldn't have been an accident because this man who's scared to take more than one shot of 18% alcohol can not die of drinking and fighting.
My conscience tells me I'm psychotic to recover after a few months but I've always been like this. I'm judgmental, sarcastic and a diva so..... deal with it.
Anyways back to my ridiculously overcautious father, the letter that came with the vial doesn't help at all.
Blood remembers. The past is translucently seen. It's a vein of a curse. It's a veil of Crimson.
What's that supposed to do me? Should I dig his grave and take out his veins and look for a curse and get his blood to paint a memory? Should I go to the black market and get X-RAY vision to see his ghost? Should I go to my Indian friend and steal her to-be-aunt's sari at the wedding and drape it over his grave so he can have a second chance with keeping his wife because clearly he failed at his first try?
See, remorse usually turns to grief or anger, and later indifference. So, I'm just in a phase.
Well, let's go to school. I don't know what's there cuz it's my first day but..... oh well.
"Aunt.... I'm going!"
I didn't expect an answer, she's in the kitchen and yapping on that phone that's come from the cavemen. My backpack hung over shoulder, my black butterfly bob is as fluffy as that Pomeranian that belongs to the very senior lady. My uniform is ironed and my tie, well, let's just say YouTube helps me as much as that one tutor you have that does literally nothing but say, Solve it now.
Let's go to Hillview, WAIT, it should be called Billsview.
Look at these rich kids parking their Bugatti, look at their faces. I bet you that Drunk Elephant makes them drunk but instead of alcohol it's makeup. Sephora kids worse than those 7 year old's I've seen on TikTok, the best my cart at Sephora can get is those samples while these kids be collecting that lineage and elf like their hair collects dandruff. I mean... have you seen them?
Those teachers, they look like the ugly villains people use to get bullseye on the dartboard. TRUST! Maybe I should just focus on my lesson and avoid catching the disease of getting uglier and bratty by the minute.