Arabella Rivera I listened to the sound of his tires rolling on the pavement as he finally arrived home. I turn around, bringing the covers up to my chin. This was ridiculous. Crying over him I mean. We weren't in a relationship, this wasn't a breakup, so there was no means to cry. But here I was, on my bed, cocooned by my covers around me with a fresh set of tears slipping out of my eyes to land on my sheets. The same sheets that still smelled of him and sex. A quiet sob left my mouth. Did I really think he'd be the 'one'? I didn't even know I believed in those things. Love, an illusion. When did I start believing in it? When did I let him get so close to me? Why did I feel like ripping my heart out of my chest because of how it pained when I thought about him? Will it always feel like this? Haiden Cross didn't deserve my tears. Yet, why can't I stop? So many questions, yet no one can answer them. Not even, me. "Arabella?" A soft voice called out and the sound of my door creaking open filled the stifling silence. The cries died down in my throat as I heard her voice. I sniffle, wiping at my tear streaks quickly. It was no use, I was sure my eyes were red and gleamed with unshed tears. "Yes mother?" My voice cracks at the last word and I groan inwardly, hoping she wouldn't catch my distress like she usually doesn't. But of course, today wasn't my day. I heard the soft click of my door being closed. Seconds later the sound of approaching feet reaches my ears. I stiffen, not entirely sure of what to do. "Are you alright Arabella? You didn't come down for dinner?" Her question is weighed down with worry which surprised me more than I'd like to admit. "I'm fine." I sniffled and pressed my face more into my sheets, ashamed that my body was betraying me like usual. I could feel her looming just beside the edge of the bed, peering down at my figure. "Your father wasn't too keen on you missing dinner tonight. You know he wanted us to eat like a family tonight-" "Stop lying mother, wanting to act like a family is all your idea, not his. He doesn't care about being a family." I interrupted her with the truth. I turned around, revealing my tear streak face and snotty nose. My eyes clashed with hers and her head jerks back in surprise. When was the last time she saw me cry? Probably when I had roughly fallen on the gravel in the second grade. She was there that day, stared at me like I was a stranger while being surrounded by the moms of the other kids. She didn't care to pick me up that day, too embarrassed at my little accident. "You want to know if I'm alright? Then the answer is no. No, I'm not alright mother. I haven't been for years, but why would any one of you notice when all your priorities were on your work?" I finally snapped. This was it, no going back from this. I throw the covers off of me and rise into a sitting position on my bed. I was so tired of pretending. I wasn't perfect. Mother's eyes narrowed down at me. "Arabella don't say- "Don't say what? The truth? I'm sick and tired of pretending to be the perfect family. News flash mother, those masks you wear? They're slowly cracking and sooner than later everyone will get to know the frauds you and father truly are. All will crack one by one until- A sickening crack resonates through the four walls of my room. A burning sting flamed on my cheek as my head snap to the side. I lift my hand to my heated cheek that was caused by the actions of my mother. The woman I should look up to just slapped me across my face. I cupped the hot flesh and turned my blurry vision to her. Her eyes are wide and her mouth parted in shock as she peered down at me in horror. "Ara-bell-" She stops her stuttering and presses her lips together firmly. Straightening to her full height, she retracts her hand and plasters them to her side. "Go wash your face, you look a mess." With those last words, she turns around and walks out of my room silently. The door closes behind her and I lose it. I got off my bed and marched to the bathroom. I flicked on the light switch and slowly walked to the sink where I stared at my reflection in the mirror for a good couple of minutes. I stared at my messy hair, the wet streaks crawling down my cheeks and disappearing under my chin. I stared at my red eyes and the raging red on my cheek where she smacked me. She was right, I looked like a mess. I was a mess. My fingers slowly tugged open a draw where I left my scissors and other necessities in. I gripped the handle of the scissors as I draw them out. Mother always loved my long hair, she said it was the perfect length. She said it lifted my face and having short hair was ugly.I placed the scissors on the countertop and let out a tensed breath. My fingers dig into my hair and started to undo the braid I had done earlier. I let my long silky locks cascade down my back for a little while. This would be the last time I would feel the ends tickle at the end of my spine. I bask in the feeling one last time. I pull my locks over my shoulder and looked at the silky strands in the reflection. They were beautiful, she was right about that too. My eyes drop to the scissors near the edge of the counter. The dark blue handle called to me and I do not resist the urge. I take a hold of them and clasp some thick tresses in my fist. Sucking in a sharp breath, I brought the whetted blade to my hair and snipped. My long locks fell in a clump by my feet. I continued snipping at my tresses, not really thinking about cutting them perfectly. I didn't want that anyway. When I was done, I stared at my new bob haircut and for the first time today, I smiled. I placed the scissors on the edge of the counter and lift my hand to my hair. The ends now reached the nape of my neck. I brushed my fingers through the new short strands and let out a small giggle. "Perfect."