Page 150 of Poison Aches

Her hair is cut in a wavy bob that frames her foxy face and as she throws her head back laughing, I catch the twinkle in her eyes.

This is a girl Kim and Astraea would definitely say has a free aura, no trace of trauma or any hardships, and it shows.

She’s the type of girl that has no care in the world, but the world seems to adore her, judging by the full attention she has on her now.

And all I can do is stare… because the girl looks exactly like me.

“Some of you might not know me, so I’ll introduce myself,” she starts. “I’m Melissa Hughes but everyone close to me calls me Mel.”

Oh God. She’s the one…

“When I was younger, I couldn’t for the life of me pronounce my own name so it’s my dad who taught me how to say Mel.”

A fewawwsand ‘how sweet’sound in the room but a wave of envy hits me square in my gut.

I watch as Melissa turns slightly to look to her left while still commanding the full attention of the room.

“I feel like the luckiest girl in the world because I have a father that has always been there for me. At every stage of my life, whenever I thought or believed that I couldn’t do something, he was always there, encouraging me, pushing me forward, gently nudging me to try again when I failed.”

Without realizing it, I start trembling as my chest tightens so painfully, I clutch my left side.

I follow Melissa’s gaze and I see him.

He stands there, tall, with a head of salt-and-paper hair.

From where I stand, I can’t really see him, but what I can make out is the smile on his face…which is coupled by the look of absolute adoration as he looks at the girl on the platform.

My stomach clenches viciously, and before I know it, my vision starts to blur as the not-so-familiar stirrings of a panic attack creep up on me.

“No, no, not now,” I mutter to myself.

Somehow, I start feeling weak in the knees.

I might pass out.

I need to get out of here. I can’t make a spectacle of myself.

In a haze, I start looking around and then my gaze clashes into a pair of dark eyes that stare at me curiously.

The person is standing on the other side of the room, but he looks like he’s hidden in the shadows. Not quite visible but not blending in either.

Who’s that?

I don’t have time for that because for some reason, as if I’m punishing myself, I look back to the man Melissa is looking at, then back to Melissa herself.

The smile he has for the girl is still there and suddenly the ache I’ve always felt in my soul rips all the way apart.

Everything that had been holding me together, every fantasy I’ve ever told myself, every stitch I’ve given myself to mend the hole of being abandoned, unwanted and rejected all my life…it all unravels in a split second.

Hot, furious tears fall down my cheeks, but I can still see clearly.

That man, looking up at the girl who looks exactly like me, is my father.

That man has a family.

That man loves his family.

But that’s not me.

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