A/N: Gracie was bound to grow up sometime, so here it is. Gracie hasn't spoken a word to anyone, but now that twelve years has passed and it's time for Gracie to be cured, what will happen?
THIS IS NOT MY ORIGIONAL FIRST CHAPTER. I'm rewriting it because the one I originally posted was so crappy. I am currently working on redoing chapter 2 as well.
DISCLAIMER: Lauren Oliver owns the world of Delirium. I'm simply playing with it.
Not So Good Morning
My eyes snap open seconds before my alarm clock goes off.
Just get through today, Grace. Just one more day. 24 more hours. You can do it. You've done it before.
I'm not exactly sure when this whole putting myself down thing started, but I tell myself the same exact thing every morning when I wake up. Before I fall asleep, I wish upon all wishes that that's the end of it and that the next morning I don't wake up.
I've always felt trapped in the world we live in. Everyone tells me how bad deliria is. They think it's the worst thing possible. The deadliest of deadly diseases. Maybe everyone has it all wrong. Maybe love is great and everything else is wrong. Maybe instead of love destroying us from the inside out, they're the ones destroying us. I'm not sure. I don't trust many people and I think that's why I think this way.
I sit up and rub the sleep from my grey eyes with the heel of my hand. I peek over at Jenny's old bed, and then Lena's. The house feels so empty without them. Jenny's been cured for three years now. Lena on the other hand… I haven't seen her since I was six years old. I feel as if I shouldn't remember her, like I was too young then to remember that much. But I do remember. I remember everything.
Carol appears in the doorway. She leans against the door frame and cocks her head to the side, studying me. "Are you nervous about today?" Oh. Right. Today was evaluation day. What a joy. Not.
I don't reply. I've never replied to her, or anyone for that matter. Only one syllable have I ever allowed to escape my lips. I try not to think of that day, though.
"Please talk to them," Carol says. "For me,"
I say nothing.
If I don't talk, I don't get a good evaluation score. Although, I couldn't care less about my evaluation scores. The only thing in my life I really care about passing is my board scores. I aced every single one of them. I am an excellent student, if I do say so myself. I even graduated a year early and was at the top of my class. My grades combined with my board scores finally got through to Carol, teaching her that I'm not "as dumb as a rock" like she used to think.
Today's evaluations are going to suck. I sure as hell wasn't going to even open my mouth for them. They think they can get whatever they want out of us. I'm not their guinea pig. Too many people I love have proved me right on this one.
Carol knocks me right out of my train of thought. "Go get cleaned up," she says. "Come downstairs and I'll do you're makeup.
I made a face. I hate makeup. Carol smiled, says "You have one hour," and then makes her way downstairs.
I can tell she's worried. It's crucial that I get paired with a good boy, one who will actually make it somewhere in life. Carol knows, though, she knows somewhere deep, deep down inside of her that that's never going to happen. And if you look even deeper, she knows that getting paired with someone good was a joke, and a pretty comical one at that.
I quickly scramble to my feet and grab the green bin from under my bed. I take out my towel and shove the bin back under my bed.
I sigh and as I make my way to the bathroom I think to myself:
Here goes nothing.
A/N: Thanks for reading! I know it's short, but there's more coming soon I promise!