The ringing of the alarm clock couldn't be more unbearable for the youth in the story.
"BZZT. BZZT. BZZT. BZZT. BZZT."
The alarm was something that Brenda hated to hear every morning, and swore one day, she would tear the thing apart - for making her wake up from one of her many wonderful dreams. For when the alarm would start buzzing, her dream would fade away - unraveling a reality that she personally hated more than anything.
The walls of tinted blue, the sharp white contrast of the corners and high trims, and the the chaotic fate that is her floor itself - covered with piles of clothing, some plastic that Brenda tossed carelessly the night before, and some books laid resting as well. Brenda shut the alarm off, stretched her arms, and got herself out of bed. All she had to her were male boxers, and a white shirt - to which she take right off, before heading into the shower. That is, before she realized she didn't have her towel or clothes to change into.
She paused, gently looked behind her, and saw the pile of clothes that she was supposed to have placed into her closet - but was far too upset with her drunkard mother to do it at all. She huffed, walked to the mountain of clothes, and grabbed something that she was most familiar and comfortable with. Her high heels, her leg-hugger jeans, and a shirt that she thought up to be as "sexy" - a black shirt with a blue bird design and exposed midriff. But with her pants, came another item that she needed to find: A belt. Not just any belt, but one that would melt into the sexy jeans that she loved most - lest she gets a big belt, and completely destroy her favorite look.
She found a small black belt, and a white towel that rested beside it, and headed off to the shower.
One shower, dress-up, and a long descend from hall and second floor stairs later - Brenda heard nothing but the quiet. It was 11:22 a.m. and no one was home. Not a soul to be heard - not even a mouse.
"Caramba, you can never count on them to be here - can you?" Brenda huffed, as she then headed towards the kitchen. It was upon the kitchen that she would see her worst nemesis of them all: The measure.
For so long, Brenda was the type of child that wanted to be noticed by everyone. This meant that she had to be TALL, sexy, and a bright personality to be noticed by her peers, and by everyone else around her. However, only ONE of those three became possible - and that was that Brenda was a sexy teen for her age. The other two were stifled, because one, she was 5'3 (on a good day), and the other, because she had the patience of fire ant army, attacking the youth with a magnifying glass.
But who could blame her?
Brenda's mother was inattentive during most of her childhood - if not negligent. She was arrested several times for driving while being intoxicated, endangering Brenda on more than one occasion, and even leaving her alone in the park for more than a few hours (just so she could drink her liquor.)
Her father was no better himself. In fact, if you asked her, the ONLY memory that she could recall when he ever WAS attentive to her, was when he suffered a foot injury that had him recovering in the hospital. That was when she was 10.
It was a miracle that she didn't end up even worse, with the aid of such awful parents - were it not for her cousins and her best friend. Though that was the previous year, and in that year alone - all things changed for Brenda. Her friend left and moved to another state - and her cousins moved back home with their families as well. For Brenda, it was back to seeing notes on the table that said: "*Chamaca, your father left you some breakfast in the fridge. Microwave it, and… something else… whatever. Have a nice day at school - and stay away from that Antinio-Antonio Kid of whatever his name is, he's a BAD influence for you. - Luv ya' - Mom." (*Spanish for "Child.")
She gritted her teeth, grabbed her breakfast meal, and enjoyed the quiet company that was herself… and the ticking of the kitchen clock.
However, like the clock and breakfast before her, her patience was wearing herself thin.
"SERIOUSLY!? What will it take for me to get some attention around here? Why the hell am I still here? I shouldn't be here - I should be out there, making better out of my life… or something like that!" Brenda spoke loudly to herself.
Then it remained quiet for a bit.
"I mean… come on," Brenda would look at her own chest, "What does it take for me to be BIGGER, TALLER, SEXIER? Huh? Big boobs, longer legs, tighter ass - you know, the whole thing." She sighed, then quickly picked up her fork, before resuming eating breakfast again. Shortly, she would finish eating her breakfast, and was about to place her plate into the sink, but not before a loud thunk would break the quiet silence within her mind.
Brenda knew that she had to find out what that item was.
A small… box.
Brenda, unamused by this would-be prank, would walk right inside with the box, and took a good look at it.
Nothing suspicious. Just a box.
Opening it, she would find a small piece of paper and a bottle with a dark red fluid inside. Opening the note, it read:
"To boldly flee where no lady has done so before, this is your wish come true. Drink the content within this flask, and see a brand new you. But be warned, fate will never see to you again, should you wish to take it back, or perhaps, you could…" Brenda squinted, as she read the last words: "Leave it be?"
"… The F***?" Now I know someone is messing with me. With a disappointing sigh, she was about to brush off the box and note - before thinking about it one more second. Perhaps, this bottle and note were trying to HELP her. Not hinder her life further.
After all, she wanted a bigger bust, she wanted longer, leaner legs, and a more gorgeous form to feel great about herself. This bottle was too good with its promises - and she has noted disappointment before. What did she have to to lose?
"Well… at best, I could see it do nothing - worst, I could feel sick and die from whatever POISON this is." Brenda shrugged it off, and proceeded to open the bottle, and drink its content whole.
She tasted raspberry. A flavor she liked.
She would close the bottle up, tossed it in the trash can, and proceeded to carry off her bag - but not for school… for it was SATURDAY. School (and that note) were meant for FRIDAY, the day before, but with Brenda's negligent mother being who she is, it didn't take Brenda long for her to toss the note aside, and headed her merry way.
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