CHAPTER 7 "SAD BIRTHDAY!"

SABRINA'S POV "Well, I have work to do, unlike you, who sleeps around instead of working,"  Alero replied sharply.   "I don't know if I can just get a few minutes of your time. I would like to tell you a very short story. It would help you a lot if you listened." I strolled towards the sofa and sat comfortably. Alero just stared at me; curiosity was written all over her face.   I put up a straight look and started, "My story is about a lady who I once worked with. She had ten fingers, naturally, like everyone else, which were so useful for her work. The girl was like you—very annoying and intruding. She always disturbed my work, and I hated it so much." I sighed and turned in my seat to look straight into Alero's eyes. She looked confused and gave me an irritated look, but she was interested in my "story." I continued   "After one week of working with this girl, she was sent away because she couldn't work any longer." I paused again, then I whispered, "All her fingers were lost! Can you guess why?" Now I could see dread in her eyes. I smiled in an evil manner, and I was actually having a good time. "I'll just help you. The fingers are in my cupboard at home because I decided to take them." I stood up from the sofa, and I knew the job was done. Alero was literally shaking on the spot. "With a knife, actually." I whispered into her ears as I walked past her and went out of the room.   I continued my work for the day, and I didn't find Alero anywhere around, let alone her intruding and disturbing my work. It seemed my story did it. I know how silly and bad I could be, but I would never think of taking anyone's fingers. That was just something I had to cook up on the spot, and Alero fell for it. I always knew I was made for acting.   I felt my stomach rumble violently as I strolled down the road, feeling very tired. I wondered what was wrong with me. Why was I so tired and hungry? I made sure I had my fill at the house. As I was considering the few choices I had for dinner that night, a couple suddenly bumped into me from my left side. I assumed they were drunk, and it seemed they were coming from the lounge across the street.   "Uhm, we're so sorry,"  the guy said to me, holding his girlfriend, whose face was bowed.   "You don't need to apologize, Damien. It's this dirty, stinking girl they call my stepsister. Let's just go," the lady said as she raised her face to look at me.   Oh! It was Missy. Apart from that ugly face of hers, I would definitely recognize her voice any day, any time. It had this tone that made her sound like an evil goddess.   "I apologize once again; just ignore her. She's drunk," the guy replied as he led his girlfriend to the parking lot. She looked so angry, like she could stretch out his face.   I wondered what brought her to this place. She wasn't the type to visit places like this. She would rather be in clubs or exquisite hotels, not a simple luxury lounge like this. She had always loved the glittery and noisy stuff. Well, her boyfriend probably brought her here. He looked like a cool rich guy, not like that other one she was with the last time—that spoiled brat! As I moved closer to the entrance of the lounge, I saw other people coming out, and I recognized some of them as Missy's friends. Then I remembered. It was her birthday.   Memories from the previous year came rushing at me. My father had gifted her a Nissan to practice with before she came of age to drive in public. I wondered what brand of vehicle he bought this time around. Tears filled my eyes as I tried to remember the last time I received a present from anyone. It was indeed a long time ago; no one ever gave me any presents after my grandparents died. Even when I was at my dad's house, he didn't seem to remember any of my birthdays.   I got to my apartment and just laid flat on my bed. I couldn't feel the hunger anymore, as sadness seemed to have filled my belly. My phone rang. It was an unknown number.   "Why did you have to show up with your bad luck today of all days?" came Missy's voice ad. I picked up the call. I didn't even have any idea that she had my phone number. "Now that my boyfriend is breaking up with me because of you, are you happy now?" she asked wryly.   "I'm not breaking up with you because of her; I'm breaking up with you because of you," came the boyfriend's voice from the background. I felt a surge of excitement inside of me. I could imagine the way the whole scenario looked so perfect, and the drama was definitely a good one to listen to. She asked if I was happy. Well, I definitely was.   "What do you even mean by that, Damien?" Missy shouted, though her voice was distant. It seemed she had dropped her phone without cutting the call as she moved closer to Damien.   "What do I mean? Missy, we both knew this relationship could never work out right from the first day!"   "Really? Our three-year anniversary is in two weeks, and you're telling me this relationship could not work out?"Damien was silent; he seemed to be pacing around the room because I could hear footsteps, or maybe it was Missy.   "Our relationship suddenly cannot work out just because I insulted my stepsister in your presence," Missy continued after a short pause.   "Well, yes. That's why. You've always looked down on other people just because you think you have money and they are poorer," Damien yelled. He seemed more angry and pained than Missy. I think he really liked her but hated her attitude.   "Damien, this is not about her being poor or not. She's my stepsister, and you have no right to"   "And that's her offense? Being your stepsister? I simply can't deal with you anymore," he bellowed. I heard him slam a door; he must have left the room.   I think the whole drama was too short. I wish there was a bit of violence. Even if it was just a slap, Damien was just too cool. Anyway, it served Missy right. I know she was hurt about the breakup because, if not, she wouldn't have gone as far as calling me. "This is your loss, Damien. I'm going to find a better man soon, not a boy like you,"  she screamed as she picked up her phone.   "You!" Her voice was so dry and harsh.   "Hey Missy. I forgot to wish you a happy birthday. Or now should I say sad birthday?" I said cynically.   "You're definitely going to regret this, fool."   "Oh! Will I?"   "You've suddenly started to grow wings, haven't you?"   "Well, maybe. I just know I am not the same naive girl you used to bully back then."   "We shall see,"  she said, hanging up.