Post by Kelly Jacobs on Mar 4, 2009 10:56:44 GMT -5
"What the hell are you thinking, Sabrina?"
She sighed, rolling her eyes at the road. The last thing she wanted but deserved right now is the reprimand of her mother, Angelina.
"I don't like it there, mom."
"What do you mean you don't like it here? You live here! Tell me where you are and I'll go pick you up--"
"Mom, you really think that I'm going to tell you where I am?" she cut her off, thinking about where she planned to go. When she left home, she had no idea. She just boarded the plane to California, the future bleak.
In fact, she doesn't even know where she's driving to. She made it a point to look for the nearest hotel. Why didn't she check out at the airport when she landed?
She sighed.
"Tell me what is it that you don't like here, Sabbie," Angelina coaxed on, almost desperate. "We want you back. You have a photo shoot tomorrow, and you're signing some--"
Sabrina snorted. "Oh please, mom! You just want me to represent you in your parties and conventions and all that crap! I have had enough of those. All that? It's not me. It's you!"
"Sabrina."
"I hardly ever felt that you're my mother. I'm not your daughter, I'm just your Barbie doll."
"Now don't you talk to me like that, young lady! I'm your mother!" her mother spat, her voice quivering.
Sabrina wasn't detered. "Just because you didn't have the chance to live your life doesn't mean you can ruin mine, mom. I have my own dreams, and I'm done living yours."
"You know that's not true, Sabrina--"
For the third time, she cut her off. "Enough, mom. I'm not coming home."
She tugged her earphones loose and tossed them on the passenger seat of her rental car. She pulled over the side of the road. Within seconds she was banging her head on the wheel.
"Crap, crap, crap!" she shouted, hitting the horn with every word. "I want my life back!"
More blares came from her car. A final one, and she slumped back against her seat.
A primadonna, she was dubbed. But she never really was one; she had to be one. She hated it. Angelina must've thought that all the frequent parties and dress-ups and cotillions will sink into Sabrina's skin and finally turn her from the simple girl that she was to a fashionable monster that Angelina wanted her to be.
She endured most of it for her mom. But not anymore.
No Devereaux had left the way she did. But then again, being a Devereaux meant having to leave in a fashionable sense, or the fashion police will kill her. If her leaving will not make it to the stands in the morning, her 'leaving in a distasteful ensemble' will.
Wiping the tears off her face, she pumped on the gas and sped along the highway with one destination in mind.
The Madisons'.
She sighed, rolling her eyes at the road. The last thing she wanted but deserved right now is the reprimand of her mother, Angelina.
"I don't like it there, mom."
"What do you mean you don't like it here? You live here! Tell me where you are and I'll go pick you up--"
"Mom, you really think that I'm going to tell you where I am?" she cut her off, thinking about where she planned to go. When she left home, she had no idea. She just boarded the plane to California, the future bleak.
In fact, she doesn't even know where she's driving to. She made it a point to look for the nearest hotel. Why didn't she check out at the airport when she landed?
She sighed.
"Tell me what is it that you don't like here, Sabbie," Angelina coaxed on, almost desperate. "We want you back. You have a photo shoot tomorrow, and you're signing some--"
Sabrina snorted. "Oh please, mom! You just want me to represent you in your parties and conventions and all that crap! I have had enough of those. All that? It's not me. It's you!"
"Sabrina."
"I hardly ever felt that you're my mother. I'm not your daughter, I'm just your Barbie doll."
"Now don't you talk to me like that, young lady! I'm your mother!" her mother spat, her voice quivering.
Sabrina wasn't detered. "Just because you didn't have the chance to live your life doesn't mean you can ruin mine, mom. I have my own dreams, and I'm done living yours."
"You know that's not true, Sabrina--"
For the third time, she cut her off. "Enough, mom. I'm not coming home."
She tugged her earphones loose and tossed them on the passenger seat of her rental car. She pulled over the side of the road. Within seconds she was banging her head on the wheel.
"Crap, crap, crap!" she shouted, hitting the horn with every word. "I want my life back!"
More blares came from her car. A final one, and she slumped back against her seat.
A primadonna, she was dubbed. But she never really was one; she had to be one. She hated it. Angelina must've thought that all the frequent parties and dress-ups and cotillions will sink into Sabrina's skin and finally turn her from the simple girl that she was to a fashionable monster that Angelina wanted her to be.
She endured most of it for her mom. But not anymore.
No Devereaux had left the way she did. But then again, being a Devereaux meant having to leave in a fashionable sense, or the fashion police will kill her. If her leaving will not make it to the stands in the morning, her 'leaving in a distasteful ensemble' will.
Wiping the tears off her face, she pumped on the gas and sped along the highway with one destination in mind.
The Madisons'.