True Colours

"Excited, mouse? New house, new school, new life, eh?" Dad smiled excitedly, ruffling my hair.

I stared at him for a second, assessing whether his smile was fake or not, and went back to looking out at the rain. Staring at it while it pitter-pattered down onto the windscreen.

I envied the rain, it didn't have to tolerate the human race.

"Leave her dad, you know she won't speak. She hasn't spoken much since m--" My big sister, Victoria, started but I cut her off with a glare, as did dad before he returned his eyes to the road.

As much as I hated to admit it, Tori was right. I hadn't spoken willingly to anyone for a few years now, I just couldn't bring myself to do it without being forced to like when answering the register at school. I said "goodnight" to my dad sometimes and I sometimes had full-length conversations with him but that was rare. I just didn't know what to say any more.

I'd screamed and squealed so much on the day that it happened that when it came to the months of therapy dad put me through, I didn't feel there was anything left to say. I was speechless. Since it happened, I'd been disgusted with the human race. As a wallflower I could pick up on everything people would say behind each other's backs and it was horrible. The two faced girls, the bitchy boys: it was all just horrible. I couldn't stand any of them but, honestly, there was one man I held responsible for my perspective on the human race. The man tha--

"You know not to mention her, Tori." Dad muttered, eyes tearing up slightly. I kissed his cheek and he smiled softly, ruffling my hair and placing his hand back onto the wheel. "But, Tori is right, you should talk more, Oli. I know it's hard but I really don't want to have to send you to therapy again."

I shuddered at the name 'Oli'. Sure, it was fine when anyone else called me that, I appreciated it a lot more than Olivia, but my dad always called me 'mouse'. It was his nickname for me since I was about six. He only ever called me 'Oli' or 'Olivia' when he was serious. And dad was never serious. He was the happiest, optimistic person I knew... Which is pretty weird when you think about what we've been through.

"You don't have to." I grumbled under my breath, only making his smile wider. Fucking optimist.

'Oh but he does. You're a psycho, aren't you, Olivia?' My subconscious teased me.

I blinked hard and tried not to picture a face to go with the voices that teased me daily but, unfortunately, I already knew what she looked like. My subconscious was a horrible thing. It was the part of my brain that told me not to speak, that I should stay quiet before changing it's mind and stating that I'm psychotic. I am psychotic, according to a few girls at my old school. I guess they'd have a point if they could see into my dark and dreary place of a mind but they couldn't. They didn't know the half of it.

I shook it off and looked at dad with a fake smile as he pulled up the driveway of our new home. I twisted my greasy, light blonde hair between my fingers, deciding that I really needed a shower by the feel of it, and scratched my nose a little while Tori plugged herself in. By that I mean, pushed some earphones in and ignored me and dad. As usual. I grabbed my own earphones and pushed the earbuds in, flicking my phone out from my pocket and turning on Blink 182 - Always.

There were a multitude of things different about my sister and I;

She had a social life, I was a wallflower.

She lusted over hot guys at school, I preffered the odd band member.

She liked popular music like One Direction and Justin Bieber, I absolutely adored bands like: Blink 182, Green Day, Panic! At The Disco, My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy, and New Found Glory.

She was a brunette, I was a blonde.

She had blue eyes, I had brown.

She had shit grades and boyfriends, I had great grades and a sketchbook.

She went to parties, I sat at home and expressed my feelings over a blog on tumblr or drew.

She was perfect, I wasn't.

She'd always been the prettier one of the both of us; she had a flat stomach and cute hair, the bluest eyes you could find and a thigh gap to go with it all. And what did I have? Well, I had horrible thighs, untameable hair and mud brown eyes that were comparable to dog shit. That's what I had. That's all I'd ever have.

"Mouse, wakey wakey?" Dad smirked, waving a hand in front of my face. I blinked hard and gave him a grateful glance, jumping out of the car and grabbing my suitcase from the boot.

Well, here goes.