Hopeless Hope

My World

There once was a time, when you could love anyone you wanted to and marry anyone you met. Those times however are over, at least for people will families who consider themselves "pure". Now, people who are born to "pure" families now marry other's from "pure" families with out even thinking about it. For it was their families legacy to marry for pride and honor, not love.

I was born to a "pure" family, I shouldn't have known about love or even a small thing as hope. When you are born to a "pure" family you must never hope, hope is considered foolish and unnecessary for a human. In a common dictionary hope is described as wishing for something with no, or little, reason in doing so. That is how we live our lives, as puppets for the name of our family. We wish for something better, as our parents did before us, but then you learn that you are born to a blessed and cursed family. you are respected and important in society, but you must never learn about things, that bond the other families. We sacrifice our feelings to keep the honor and pride of our family alive, but more about that later for now let me introduce myself.
Our family has been always know to give unreasonably long names, luckily for me I had a much shorter name than most of my ancestors. I only have two names while they had ten or fifteen. My name is April Lauressa Desablo, and this is my story.

My life's story should never be told, I should warn you now that this is not a fairytale. This is story about my life. I am not perfect, I have made some wrong choices, I have committed murder, I do have sins, and I do admit it. If you had looked at me and my family 30 years ago you never would have guessed that I would become what I have became. If you don't think you can handle the real truth in life, love, and death then stop right now, but if you still insist on reading then by all means keep reading, and watch my story unfold.

I was born on April 22nd 1984, it happened to be Easter that day. The principles of Easter though, were entirely ignored. No one celebrated, no one was happy.

My parents were relieved that they no longer had to try and make a baby anymore. You see, my parents were forced into the marriage, and it was tradition of a "pure" family to have a baby before the age of twenty. When I was born there had already been one miscarriage, so my parents were very pessimistic about the next birth. When I was born it wasn't happiness they celebrated it was relief.

You see my father was already twenty, and if he did not produce a child by the last day of his twentieth year then he would be forever shamed. My mother was very frantic at the beginning of my birth. She thought that it would be the same as the last birth, ending in disappointment. Not sadness, but disappointment. From what I understand and learned later. As soon as my mother got home from the hospital after the first birth, they tried again.

My parents did not want me, they needed me. My father, knowing that his work was done, left me in the care of my mother and the servants. My mother was too exhausted and frightened for the first year so I barely saw any of my parents. As far as I was concerned, Maya (my personal maid) and the other servants were my family. They were the first people I saw when I opened my eyes, they were the ones who taught me to walk, and how to speak. In fact until I was 7 years old I didn't even know I had parents. I thought they were visitors of the house.

I grew up pretty normal for our family. Spoiled rotten in all sense. I learned politeness, manners, and such. We all still grew up with hard ships though, and later as you read on you will see mine.

You may be wondering how I know all of this, since I can't remember until I was four years old any ways. Well Maya made a whole movie about my first five years of life, including my birth. When I saw that movie when I was 14 years old I cried, because it was then I realized that money, and pride meant more to my family than their only child, and in fact themselves.

When I finally did find out that I had parents I actually laughed, and in doing so I got a nice swift hit upside the head by my father. The first words he ever said to me was;

"Don't show emotion, it shows weakness"

Luckily for me my mother was not like my father, in fact she was scared of me. Which indeed proved very useful as I was growing up. In our house my father was the top boss, he controlled everything and everyone, including my mother and I. I was secretly second, anyone who came to our house, or the slaves, could see that I could control my mother into doing anything. My mother and father though were blind to me. They spoke to me only when needed.

I remember the day I turned 15 very well, for it was also the day I started a new school. You see I changed schools quite a lot because my father never found them "quite good enough for a Desablo". This time though I made my parents swear that this would be the last time I switched, they agreed, for this was the school they had both went to when they were growing up. Their parents had also had them married when my mother was 16 and my father was 17. It was my parents dream to do the same for me, but once again I made them swear that I would not be wed until 17. Yes I remember the day very well when I turned 15...





"April if you don't hurry up I will come up there and bring you down by your hair!" Father yelled.

"Ok! I'm coming just a moment!" I yelled back trying to contain my anger after he had interrupted my peace and quiet.

I turned back towards my mirror and I studied my reflection some more. My long, slightly curly, blonde hair which fell to my waist was unnaturally shiny today. While my ice blue eyes, highlighted with the smoky eyeliner I put on, looked absolutely normal, piercing and staring into my own soul. I could almost swear that they could make a hole in the mirror if I stared long enough at it. My long, oval shaped face looked very nicely shaped with my hair as the frame, while my slightly pink lips looked awful with the ivory white skin I had, as my father often pointed out.

The more I stared at myself the more I hated the way I looked. My hair was too blonde, I even dyed it once but then it was too dark, my face was the wrong shape, my eyes were do weird of a color. I hated myself, but my father hated me more than I could ever try to. He was constantly judging me and my actions, and constantly criticizing. So I tried to avoid him as much as possible, but even then he always found me somehow.

Suddenly I was lost in thought, thinking about all the times I had run into him, and how each time I hated him more and more.

"April!" My father yelled, sending me out of my concentration.

"Just a second!" I yelled back angrily, as I looked back at the mirror.

I was dressed normally today, with a pair of light blue jeans and a black tank top with a shiny gold skull on it. My belt was also shiny but it was silver colored, as was my lace up, high heeled sandals. My light blue gloves that went up to my elbows, were very fashionable, but were also there to hide the scars of my abusive self.

I was never satisfied with how I looked but I still turned away from the mirror to my room. My king sized bed was on one side and my large dresser on the other. The oak dresser which was larger than my bed, held my computer, TV, my clothes, and still had enough room to write on. My room, which was painted dark green for unknown reasons since I hated green, was very large even for a room. It had a window which over looked the large lake that we lived beside. The lake was called Bowren Lake, and it was 5 kilometers wide, so the few people living on the other side of the lake didn't even know we lived here. On dark nights I would climb out of my 3 story window and take walks along the beach and swim.

I stared out my window thinking about the memories before realizing that it was my fifteenth birthday today. Of course my parents wouldn't even celebrate it because they didn't care. They cared about me turning seventeen and that is about it. I also remembered that I still had to finish packing for my first day at another new school. I turned to the suitcase which was lying on my bed and I picked up a pile of clothes from beside me and tossed it into it and shut the suitcase quick, before picking it up, grabbing my black sweater and heading out of my room.

My house was also very big, and as I walked down the hallway with my very heavy suitcase I began to regret packing so much. The house was a three story mansion. With fifteen bedrooms and seven bathrooms. On the outside it was painted brown and black to blend in with the 6 acre's of forest surrounding it. On the inside though, my ancestors took no shame in hiding the fact that they had spent a lot of money in it. The hallways were lined with pictures of previous Desablo's. They all seemed to stare at you at you, no matter how far away from them you are.

I finally came to the first staircase. I put my suitcase on the golden rail, balanced it and slid it down the rail. It was a skill I had perfected during my times alone. Another thing I had noticed was that the red carpet stairs were spaced farther apart then normal ones. I waited for the suitcase to hit the bottom of the stairs before I headed down in case I needed to run. When I heard the big thump I ran down the stairs like I always did, even though my father disapproved. I got to the bottom, picked up my suitcase, turned left and walked into the grand hall. The grand hall was very large, it took up the whole 3 stories on a little less than a quarter of the house. The glittering glass chandelier hung from the ceiling and dangled until about the second floor. If you looked up when you enter the hall from the front door you'd see the three floors looking out onto it, and a large staircase leading from both floors. On the right there was a large table which we used for eating when we had guests. When I entered my mother and father were waiting.

My mother who was taller than most women also had long blonde hair down to her waist, but she had a round face which suited her perfectly, her eyes were bright green,and they suited her skin and hair perfectly too. I was always jealous when I saw her. She always wore a long black dress in hope that she would remain unnoticed.

My father on the other hand gave me my eyes and face shape, but he had brown hair. He was the same height as my mother, with a face that was always in a constant scowl. He loved velvet everything. So he always wore velvet pants and shirts. Today he was wearing his really good set of clothes. His navy velvet shirt and his black velvet pants. I never understood his obsession with velvet, it made him look too interesting to look at, but then maybe that's why, he always wants attention.

"It's about time! What were you doing up there, trying to make your self look worse than you already do!" Father yelled at me while my mother just bowed her head.

"No Father, I was finishing packing" I said quietly still shocked by his loud voice.

"Very well then, come on get your stuff inside the limousine so we can get going to Franebella" My father yelled again making me flinch.

I grabbed my suitcase and hurried down the front steps as not to invite an argument again. The driver, whom I particularly enjoyed talking to, took my suitcase and walked away with it towards the back as I got in behind my parents. The limousine was large enough so we all could relax and stretch out, without getting to close to one another, and as the driver got in and started to pull away from the house my father took advantage of that. He put up a screen between himself and my mother and put another one in front of him so no one could see him anymore. Unless he rolled down the window. My mother did the same. So I was left sitting there looking out the window with nothing but my thoughts.

I thought about the hall and I remembered how loud my fathers voice had been. I hate people with loud voices, they just talk loud to act smart when, to me any ways, it just made them more stupider sounding. Like the time when I met that boy from across the lake, I developed a major crush on him, but when my father found out I got a beating I could never forget. He yelled at me saying things like 'You can't love, we choose who you marry you bitch!'. I never forgot that lesson. From then on I never allowed myself to fall in love with anyone, for my parents choose who I will marry and that's that. Ever since that day I have not fallen in love, or even had a crush on anyone, knowing my father will find out. The more I thought about that curse our family has upon us, the more I was glad my parents weren't looking as a single tear slid down my face. I wished I had a better life than this. I mean I had everything I would ever ask for; money, parents, big house, and lots of great stuff, but sometimes I would give everything away just to be free.

As I watch the green lush scenery go by, and turn into the city scene. With grey cobblestone and large buildings, I could help but noticing all of the different people around me. They looked at the limousine with such fascination as to se who is in there. If they ventured close enough you could see in their eyes just how much they would like to be the one with the nice car, lots of money, and all time happiness. How ironic that I would like to be in their shoes instead of mine. One man, whom I could tell was homeless, ventured right up to the window and knocked on the glass, I looked back to see if my parents heard, and when I saw they didn't I rolled down the window a little bit, just enough so he could see my eyes. He said to me;

"Oy... is the life up there as good as they say it is. Me and my wife wanna know" He said as a woman dressed as tattered as him came up from behind him. She gripped his hand tightly and pursed her lips in a kind of way that makes her seem almost to old for her young appearance.

"No, the life is not as they say it is. Well at least if you value your wife" I said quietly as we drove away leaving the couple still standing there, hand in hand. Their faces still quite bewildered, as I rolled up the window.

I turned forward again and I saw my mother staring at me, she put the screen up right away again. But I already saw the tears in her eyes. I began to understand, for the first time in my life, that my mother was human and that she knew exactly what I was going through. She must have loved too before she was torn away from a life that never could happen. I vowed never to misjudge my mother again.

That's another bad characteristic of mine judging people too fast, I always do that and I always regretted it. It has proven itself useful though. Usually I can tell right away who to avoid, and it once saved my life. One day I went to a party and I saw a man watching all the girls dance. I immediately knew that he was bad and I stayed away from him. The next day I learned at five of the girls who I had partied with, were murdered and raped by the same man I saw. I try not to go to parties anymore unless I need to.

We were back to lush green scenery outside, and judging on my instinct we had been driving for about an hour. I knew from my father that the school was about a three hour drive away from home. So I sighed, sat back in my seat, and quietly waited for the next 2 hours to go by. Not even knowing that that school would change my life forever.