Page 47 of Forever Cursed

I observe her for a moment, trying to figure out when she became so headstrong. Gwen has always cared about me, but she never pushed me outside my comfort zone. This is new, and while I want to tell her she’s wrong, she’s not. I walk through life examining people and encouraging them to work on themselves. I’ll tell Gwen, Zack, and even Ash to practice self-care, even if it’s something as simple as a face mask and a cup of tea. When was the last time I did something like that? I can’t say because I don’t think it’s ever happened.

Gwen has grown up, and it wasn’t all Ash’s influence. She worked on herself because she knew that before she could love him, she had to learn to love herself. And while I’m proud of her progress, I can’t help but feel like she left me behind. Here I am denying my feelings, crying over a boy, and not allowing myself to be happy because I’m worried about my brother and what he may think.

And there she is, growing to love her skin, standing up for herself and her loved ones, and showing me that I’m in the wrong. Gwen was always taking pages out of my playbook, so perhaps it’s time I borrow some from hers.

“I think that’s something I can do,” I tell her with a weak smile.

“Promise?” She offers me her pinkie, just like she would back when we were kids.

And because I’m the adult I claim I am, I meet it because pinky promises are never to be broken. “I promise.”

I don’t wake up when the sun rises the next morning. If this were a regular day, I would be out of bed and jumping in the shower. When my eyes peel open, I immediately know today isn’t a regular day. I stretch my legs and smile to myself at the sensation of the cool sheets against my skin. I shove my arms under my pillow and flop onto my stomach, closing my eyes once again.

I don’t think I’ve ever slept in, not even in my angsty teen years. I was always up the second the sun rose, ready to start my day with a wide grin and a pep in my step.

So, when my eyes close again and my body sags from fatigue, I don’t fight it. If my body is telling me that I need more rest, it’s time I need to start listening to it. I don’t have any plans today anyway, and no one will miss me if I sleep in.

I was right.

When I wake for the second time, I sigh in relief as I check my phone and don’t see any messages or missed calls. A slight panic rises in my chest when I notice it’s 11:00 a.m., but I remind myself I don’t have anywhere to go and no one to see. Turning my head, I glance out the window and enjoy the silence. Birds are chirping, and the clouds are rolling in the endless baby-blue sky. I barely notice when my phone buzzes against my bed or when it starts to ring obnoxiously. I ignore it as best as I can, but when it doesn’t stop, I groan.

“What do you want?!” I ask the device like it has a network of working nerves and cells.

Pain in the Ass appears on the screen, and I instinctively toss my phone across the room. It hits the floor with athud, but between the tempered-glass screen protector and a solid phone case, it should be fine.

I’m not in the mood to talk to Zack. To be honest, I don’t feel like talking to anyone, not even Gwen. As I stare at the ceiling,an idea pops into my head. It makes me sit straight up, hop out of bed, grab a change of clothes, and jump into the shower to prepare.

Gwen wants me to work on acknowledging my feelings for Rome, right? I just happen to know the best way to do that, and it starts with going to my favorite store.

After showering, I put on a pair of jean shorts and a simple white T-shirt. Since my hair is curly, I work in some leave-in conditioner and run a fine-tooth comb through my crinkled locks. When I put the brush down, I look at my notes on the mirror and meet my reflection.

“I am willful. I am kind. My hair is unique, and my body is strong. I love me for me, and I’m special because no one else is like me.” I have it memorized, but I rely on the notes for a reason.

Before I left for Castle Brook, my mom gave me a present. It was our mantra, handwritten on pink and purple sticky notes. When I miss her, I look at her handwriting, reminding myself that a little piece of her is always with me. Then I’ll call her, and we’ll talk for hours on end.

I was self-conscious growing up. In part because I was made fun of for my small boobs and my lack of ass. I’ve developed since then, but the words still haunt me.

Twig.

Flat-chested bitch.

No-ass Willows.

In the eyes of society, a woman’s body is never perfect. You’re either too skinny or too fat. Your breasts are either too small or too big. You’re belittled no matter what you look like simply because you’re a woman.

If I wasn’t being tormented because of my body, I was being teased about my hair. Neither of my parents has tight curls, soI’m unsure where the gene came from. Most likely a long-lost ancestor.

Curly Q.

The Frizz.

The girl with the crazy hair.

Mom had to teach me to love my body and my hair. She would place me in front of a mirror and make me recite words of affirmation to boost my confidence. It didn’t work right away, but I learned to love myself just as I am over time.

My hair is unique. Some people would kill to have the volume and curls I have, but that doesn’t mean my self-consciousness doesn’t rear its ugly head from time to time.

My phone rings again, and Zack’s nickname pops up again. I’ll never make my parents worry on purpose, but I don’t mind letting Zack stew uncomfortably. It’s his fault, anyway. He’s the reason Rome and I can’t explore our spark. I don’t often feel anger or irritation toward anyone. Today is a day of self-care, and I’m letting myself be annoyed by my brother.

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