BERTRANMIGRATED TO BE A VILLAIN IN THE NOVEL
PROLOG —DEATH

The party was just as amazing as I thought. Loud music exploded, people danced, and drinks made my head dizzy. 

It was the first time I was drunk despite approaching my eighteenth birthday. All my friends spent their high school years partying, while I studied passionately under the pressure of my parents. 

However, it all paid off, and I, although not very smart, had been accepted into a top university. That's why I deserve to spend at least one night as a teenager. 

"Ah sorry."

Someone hit me, dropped me to the ground. 

"Are you blind, stupid?" i snap. 

But that guy's gone. I rolled my eyes and stood up, then threw away my irritation with another cup of whatever they were serving. 

“Jennie! How's the party?” 

I turned to see my best friend, Tiffany, coming towards me. 

“Fun,” I said. "But the skirt you're wearing is terrible." 

His smile froze and his mouth slightly opened. I smile. 

“And I always thought that lipstick made you look like a clown. I just thought I should tell you, because we are 'friends'.”

"Jenny, what are you ..."

“I never liked you, never. Why can you be beautiful and smart and kind at the same time? And by the way, I was the one who spread the rumor that you had plastic surgery. You might do it. ”

Tiffany's eyes widened and she trembled slightly. 

"You've been drinking too much."

“Even now, you're still worried about me! How can you be so good? I'll never see you again anyway, so you have to see that this is the real me.”

Were those tears formed in her eyes? Suddenly I felt a prick of guilt, but it was quickly replaced by another thought. How could she look so beautiful and cry? Why is God so unfair?

Laughing bitterly, I left Tiffany and took a walk around the party until the music drowned out all thoughts about her. I chanted the song lyrics with other people, until I was almost deaf. 

My stomach turned and I rushed to the bathroom. I vomit in the toilet, the world revolves around me. When my mouth and head were clean, I leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. I was so sorry because the room smelled of vomit. 

It's quieter here, and I can hear my phone buzzing. I took it out and groaned, then started scrolling through the stack of messages. 

'Where are you???'

'The kidnappers can get what they want, but don't hurt him.'

'Your window is open. Did you sneak out?'

"Go back now."

Don't get me wrong, they are good parents who I love and who love me. I know that, even though we never talk much. I was about to move on to university soon, so I felt it was my son's duty to be obeyed. 

Tiffany's parents adored her, but she complained that they would never get anything. This is very much the opposite of me, because I know that although our family is quite rich, it is not enough. It will never be enough to get what I want, because I want it so much. 

As I staggered out of the house into the cold night air, memories came rushing to me. 

'Maybe you'll grow up to be useless.'

'personal? Why do you need that?'

'If you're not my daughter, I'll never hang out with you.'

The feeling was mutual even now, even though my father had said it in a heated debate. Our personalities just clashed, between me and my two parents, so most of our conversations ended with me stepping on the basement to throw things. But in the end, we all got tired, and maybe that's why our interaction stopped beyond what was necessary, and I hid myself in the story. 

Tears blurred my eyes and I sobbed. I tried to remove it, and too late, I remembered that I was wearing makeup. It stung my eyes and tears ran down my cheeks. I cried sobbing. 

I love them. I hate them. I wish I could like them more. I hate the people who raised me. I wish I could be better. 

I have worn so many masks, tried to be liked, or at least not hated. But if I have enough power to get what I want without anyone else, or if they love me, or if I can be prettier under her-

'Popularity. Ascendancy. Richings. A throne on top of the world. All mine.'

A dream so distant and impossible. Especially when I'm like this. 

Therapeutically. Will that help? What if all I've learned is that this mess is who I am? And they would be offended, they would think their daughter would be too strong for that. 

Street lights flickering overhead. I yawn, tired. 

Everything else can wait. I would sleep, and if they insisted on giving a lecture, I would scream or cry or whatever. Sleep will make everything better. 

The tears will not stop. I didn't bother to remove it again, I just wanted to go home. Maybe a part of me still hopes that my parents will be there to apologize and tell me that everything is fine. 

I ran, not seeing exactly where I was going. The world seems a little hazy. Everything happened so fast. 

A panicked car honks. 

The bright headlights that froze me in place. 

My body flew across the road.

The darkness.  

...****************...

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