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limerence
limerence
Author: Yarmia

chapter 1: Camellia

Living in a family of seven siblings has never been easy for anyone. And so does for me. Elder siblings are technically parents to younger siblings who don't have to give birth in order to take care of them and unluckily I'm the oldest.

I have two brothers and four sisters which all act like two year olds despite the youngest is also three year old. I grew in a large family which is more chaotic than being in a club. It's not like I mind them and they all are very dear to me until my brothers annoy me and my sister's sneak into my vanity!

"Mama! Lucy broke my branded lipstick!" I stomped out of the room and showed her the empty container stick which had no colour left in it.

"Dear, I've always told you to take care of your things. They are childish, they don't know. You must keep them somewhere they can't reach" my mother makes my blood boil more with these defensive words on their behalf.

I mean like I earn money by working part time and spent it on my shopping and necessities. If they keep ruining everything at this rate, then my all salary which I earned all this time will be equal to trash I put everyday in the bin.

One thing I'm certain of until now is that there's no use in giving them a good beating because it will only put my mother in a really bad mood and she will kick me out if the house for hurting them. So I packed my vanity into a box and locked it in the cupboard, clearing up the dressing table empty.

Wearing my linen shirt along with scarf and beige pants, I was set to go. I don't usually wear too much makeup but always buy alot. My basic everyday look includes mascara, sunblock and lipstick which makes up for my blush too.

Wearing my sneakers, I grabbed the keys from the top of refrigerator. I wonder why asian parents put everything important up there?

Today was Saturday and everyone had a off but not for me. I am 20 year old grownup gal who's doing bachelors in literally literature in the most prestigious university in my city. Literature might sound odd because it's not common. But it sparked my interest when I started reading too much novels in my teenage. Right after completing my two year intermediate education, I was very much sure about what I want.

And I got it.

Now after I'm in second year, so far I've been able to write two books on my own which I got them published all over the country. Luckily all the copies were sold out within a few months and it brought me a reasonable amount of money.

I'm planning to write a poetry book after completing my ongoing assignment. Life's never been roses and sunshine. But it doesn't mean I'm gonna give up!

I picked a toast from the plate which was placed in front of Lucy and no surprise she started crying with mouth wide open and voice so shrilling that it could pierce your ears.

Just before my mother could turn around, I leapt away quietly before it.

"Who ate her toast?" I could hear her loud voice ranging between the four walls of the dining room.

"Mom! Camellia ate it!" It was Ashely the nosiest. She always likes to be the first one telling names. I don't know what to do with her, she annoys me the most.

I slid the keys inside the car and ignited the engine. Gulping down the last bite of toast down my throat, I took the car out of the garage towards the main door.

I motioned Sam to open the gate as he came running from the lawn.

I am a rough driver, and I wonder who passed me the driving test. Feeling sulky, I turned up the music loud.

My eyes travelled towards the side view mirror, and I saw a guy dressed in black, on bike. According to my knowledge, I've seen him for unnecessarily long behind my car. And he didn't seem to change the direction.

Feeling the fear creeping inside my veins, I had a hunch that he has been following me for much longer than I seem to notice.

To confirm my suspicions, I changed the direction taking a longer route than I usually follow.

Scared to the pit of my stomach, he also took a turn just behind my car.

Finally, I reached the university and parked the car in parking lot. As I got out, I didn't saw him but I knew he was somewhere at a distance watching me. You know the feeling of being watched?

It's always real and especially with girls, they always have this sixth sense which tells us someone is digging holes in our existence.

I looked around but found no one in particular. Grabbing my bag, I walked myself to the building, ignoring my brain for constantly telling that he was just behind my back. I'm actually an overthinker which always bought me trouble but a lot skills such as being a writer and poet. This imagination has led me to escape from reality and create my own fantasy world, in which I love to live.

Taking the elevator to the fourth floor, I greeted my classmates on my way. People say I have a higher IQ level than average people but I don't believe it because if I did I would've probably chosen something more professional other than literature.

I don't mean that literature is unprofessional or I don't like it but my father always wanted me to be a doctor. He had this wish since I was born, burdening me with it. Till the day I took admission wherever I preferred, i was being suffocated beneath their desires.

Waving a hand to Syra, I called her over. Syra is my best friend, we actually met at the orientation day accidentally. As a clumsy girl I am, I broke my heels while skipping the stairs. Luckily she was behind my back and she saw I almost tripped. But Syra has always been thoughtful and she always bought flats whenever she wore heels so that day God saved me and she lent me those flats. I couldn't ever pay for her kindness because her gesture really touched my heart.

Since that day we've been hanging out together, studying together and doing all the nasty things together.

"Man! Did you do your assignment? " She approached and the first question she asked my expressions turned into a foul mood.

"Fuck you Syra! You're asking me such a shitty question at the start of day? I'm so done with you! Now you'll really have to feed me ice cream or else I won't forgive you " I told her with a tight expression and crunched nose.

Playfully she pinched my crunched nose and laughed.

"If you wanted to have ice cream, you should've told me the simple way, why these tantrums?"

I hit her in the back and replied, "because my assignment is still not complete and you shouldn't have reminded me if it"

"Okay let's fuck it together! Tell me something new?" Syra grabbed my arm and motioned me towards the basketball court where all the hot guys were crowded irrespective of the time.

"Have you ever been stalked? Like physically?" My brain knew where this question was coming from but didn't sense that I'd spit it in front of her.

"What? I don't think so. Wait... something happened?" She was always the first to sense everything.

"Nothing serious but I've seen this guy dressed in black and riding a bike. He has been following me around for a few days but today I noticed it. It felt scary" I explained to her despite knowing her answer.

"Let's report to the police!" She exclaimed in urgency.

"What? No police can't be involved and it's not even that serious. I mean he hasn't done anything. He just simply watches me and I think I can deal with it because he is just like other creepy guys" I tried to calm her down because even in my situations her blood pressure always shot up.

Soon after our conversation we both went to our classes. It was a boring craft of writing class and the professor was more than old to explain it in an interesting way.

I took my seat in the corner, facing the window. I guess being physically present in class counts as attendance which was just enough for me because I was not mentally present there.

I constantly thought about that guy who was stalking me. What if he turns out to be dangerous?

What if I'm already in danger?

This mere thought shook me because in a south Asian country like this, rape was common. And rape is worse than death to every victim. That was also the reason which is why I always maintained my distance with male guys. I had a firm belief that I'll let my parents choose my husband, it's never gonna be me.

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