![]() One more point in the Taylor is useless column. She hoped it would help her keep calm under Emma's barrage of insults.ĭidn't really work out, but at least she could say she was passable with it. The thought of going back to that hellhole, filled her with such dread, that she had to stop for a second before she ripped out a big chunk with the ancient comb, and calm herself down with a breathing exercise she had picked up from a book. Reaching that point in her depressing circular thoughts that seemed to permeate her life nowadays, she sighed and started to comb her hair with a little more force. And it wasn't like anyone would go for the dumpy, frog-like Taylor, so there was no point even trying to figure out how she could pretty herself up. She began to untangle her hair, the only feminine activity she kept up with nowadays, as an homage to her dearly departed mother, as it was futile to even try anything with what was happening in Winslow. It was old, and she should have probably gotten a new one, but she never had the strength to do it. Taylor sat down on the edge of her bed, took out her brush, one that her mother had given her. So much that she couldn't even tell what color were the ornaments. The last time she took an effort to look at it, it was covered in even more dust. The tree was left as it was, barely quarter covered with dusty and old ornaments in the corner of the living room. She sat there for a few minutes and continued the procedure with a sour face before giving up and putting away the box that contained the ornaments. Then they spent half an hour apathetically hanging up Christmas ornaments before her father made some excuse and left for his office to continue working. Sure, her dad had put up a tree, a small and ancient plastic one that had lost almost all of its fake leaves over the years collecting dust in the attic. The Christmas break provided her with some well-needed rest despite that total apathy that enveloped her house and the total absence of Christmas cheer. Her entire body was taut with stress, as she knew well that the next day she would be returning to her personal hell, Winslow High School for the Burgeoning Thugs and Thugettes. Taylor walked out of the bathroom clad in her pajamas with its frayed edges and faded symbols that were once upon a time legible, displaying the stylized grinning head of Mouse Protector.
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