AUDREY
On the day of my birth, it was a cold, winter's morning, November 11th, 1998.
The wails of a newborn baby rang through the corridors of Parkinson's fourth major Hospital. A mother lay fatigued in her lavish hospital bed, holding her youngest child. Her body was weak, as was her mental state, but happiness radiated off her, no matter how tired she was. Katie Parkinson, formally known as Katie Evans, welcomed her second child into the world, at twenty-six years old.
With wide doe-like eyes, her eldest daughter, Margo Parkinson, watched the baby with awe, smiling as her cries soon became silence, the baby fast asleep. She beamed with pride, overjoyed with her new position as a sister, at four years old.
Lydia and Matthew Evans, Katie's sister and brother, both stood near the door, holding a baby pink balloon, a bag full of gifts for the newborn. Lydia leaned on one foot, then the other, growing restless from excitement. Matthew tightly squeezed the fluffy teddy, unable to contain his enjoyment. Lydia couldn't wait to spoil her, just as she spoiled Margo. Matthew couldn't wait to play games with her. An aunt and uncle for the second time, at the age of twenty-three and nineteen years old.
Collin Parkinson and Harold Evans sat by the window, conversing about the future of the second heir to the Parkinson-Evans cooperation, their dreams of a happy and loving family a common interest.Hopefully, their youngest granddaughter would be as good a prodigy as her mother. They both smiled widely at each other, delighted to become grandfathers again at the age of fifty-nine and fifty-six.
And finally, George Parkinson sat beside his beloved wife, her hand in his, he stroked the wedding band on her finger lovingly. He praised his wife for her hard work, his happiness was evident in the smile he now bore, gazing at his wife with adoration. As he glanced down at his newborn child, the father for the second time at age twenty-nine, was content.
17th November 2004
My fingers were as light as feathers, just as the most successful piano performer and my tutor, Baily White, had instructed. Each push of a key was a step in a dance, one mistake and the masterpiece is ruined.
The melody set my mind at ease, a peaceful trance I never wanted to leave. I could hear faint weeping in the background, but I didn't stop. It was as if the world went still, everyone held their breaths through the musical climax, either too entranced by the music or too determined to spot any mistakes. Through their gazes, comments, critiques and praises, I played on.
As the last chord was struck, I stood and greeted a crowd of standing ovation, cheering and clapping filled my ears. This was the only thing I heard for the next ten minutes, the crowd growing louder than I thought was possible as I accepted the gold trophy into my tiny arms. This I enjoyed, I felt happy here, in a room of beautiful sounds.
It was on the way back that I asked myself why I dreaded sitting in this car, waiting to arrive home. I did my best, I didn't mess up and I almost received a perfect score, but that didn't matter, not to him. He only grunted and asked why I didn't get a perfect score, I was six years old, my mother had my abilities at four. Margo was already the owner seven gold trophies and a successful child model.
I was never good enough.
14th February 2007
The living room was decorated with streamers and balloons. In a corner, lay a mountain of presents, a big pink banner was strung across the fireplace.
'Happy Birthday Margo!'
A happy birthday indeed. Her friends gathered around her as she began to open her presents, the maids passing them to her one by one. She beamed, her smile lighting up even the darkest of places. However, I remained untouchable.
I was sitting by the large, glass window, reading my book in silence when she approached me. She had caramel brown skin, with luscious dark brown hair that reached her waist, secured in a half-up-half-down style with a pretty blue bow. She wore a dress of the same colour, frills and ribbons adorning it, she looked ridiculous.
"Hello, I'm Libby. Our mothers are friends." She was a lively girl, and I immediately knew, I felt uncomfortable.
"Cool," I said melancholy, going back to my book.
"We're the same age." She stated, holding her hands behind her back, smiling proudly.
"Hmm. Interesting." I replied, my voice without a trace of emotion.
"We should be friends."
"No," I replied immediately, getting up and going to my room. I continued to walk until I heard soft footsteps behind me. "Stop following me, go back to your mother."
"No, you're my friend, I can't leave you alone, I want to play with you." She admitted, a smile still on her face.
How irritating.
"I don't play."
"That's ok, you can read to me."
"What am I? A kindergarten teacher? Go play with the other children."
"I'd rather play with you."
"I don't care. Just don't bother me." I huffed, continuing my journey to my room. The soft footsteps followed me the entire way.
When we arrived, I took a place on my bed, Libby took a place on the velvet bench at the foot, waiting patiently.
What does she want?
"Well, aren't you going to read to me?" She asked, crossing her legs.
"Fine." I made sure to throw her a small glare before beginning.
"In the blazing summer, a public execution was held. A ruthless king threw a girl into a pit of lions for being too beautiful."
"What kind of book are you reading?" She asked perplexed.
"My favourite book...Anyway. As the lions began to prowl around her, she begged the king to have mercy on her," I continued.
"Well did he?" She interrupted, causing me to scowl.
"No, he didn't," I answered.
"Wha-this isn't a book for children." She whined.
"Tough. You wanted me to read to you, so now I'm reading to you."
"Fine, carry on."
I huffed a sigh of annoyance before continuing my storytelling, "the king laughed as she wept with fear. The lions grew closer and...they stopped. They were entranced by her beauty."
I continued to read her the tale until her mother called her down. She said her goodbye and that was the end of that. The very next day, she requested to play with me again and we became very good friends. We ended up going to the same academy and we stayed as friends, by each other's side. Even still, I was in a world of my own.
21st June 2015
It was my last day of secondary school as I was advancing to university. I walked up the stage and looked into the audience as I received my certificate. My mother, Margo and Libby sat there radiating pride. They sat in the middle of the room and began cheering like lunatics. I could feel my face heat up as I quickly left the stage.
"Why did you have to do that? That was so humiliating." I covered my face in embarrassment as I met them outside on the grassy terrain where everyone else currently stood.
"Who would we be if we didn't humiliate you at your early graduation because you're starting university because you're a genius." Margo rambled, gasping from the lack of air.
"I can't believe you're leaving me, I have to go through the rest of high school alone." She whined, draping over me like a blanket.
"Oh suck it up Libby, you'll be fine. You'll see me at lunch you know, everyone at Rowell Academy has to eat in the same place for lunch." I answer, rolling my eyes.
"Yeah but it's not the same, I won't have you in class anymore and I can't bother you or anything."
"You wouldn't have had me in class anyway, we can only choose three of four subjects and mine would have been completely different to yours."
"Oh shut up Audrey and let me whine." She groaned, her body weighing me down.
"Whatever, just dea-", before I could finish my insult my graduation mortarboard (yes we had to wear one for high school) decided to fly off my head like Libby did off a goddamn bike a few years ago.
I ran after it, leaving Libby, my mother and sister to converse amongst themselves. I weaved through the crowds towards my hat, leading me to a tall boy, looking a little confused. He was wearing a grey fitted suit with polished dress shoes, his black hair was combed back and looked as if it were absorbing all the sunlight- his head must be boiling hot, I could feel my brain cooking under this heat.
"Hi, sorry, that's mine," I confessed, smiling sheepishly.
"Ah, the owner of the rouge motarboard, here." He held it out for me to take, smiling gently.
"Thank you, sorry if you got hit or...something." I apologised awkwardly, fiddling with the tassels.
"Don't worry, I wasn't hit, it landed on the ground in front of me so naturally, I...you know." He spluttered, scratching the back of his neck.
"Well, thank you anyway, goodbye." I smiled, turning on my heel to return to my family and thing. The boy was lost from my memory to time and I never once remembered him.
Until earlier this month.
His name, Sebastian King.