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All created stories have to follow . We do not allow any sexually related material. The Doll Palace will be enforcing this rule and completely blocking access to the accounts that disregard our policy and create sexually oriented stories.
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Hi, my name is Prologue
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 | Cupid Shoots Forks Now |
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 4.63 with 8 vote(s)
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| Created: 2011-04-22 05:51:40 |
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Thanks like, a gazillion for the title Erin. Also, I suck at prologues, so sorry if this really vastly disappointed anyone.
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»-♥--►
Prologue
»-♥--►
Somewhere in every girl there is the ability to either be completed or broken. She can see both of these options as an easy feat or an impossible one, but no matter what, one is bound to happen. And it’s not likely that the first, second, or third time these things occur, that the girl will ever be pleased with the happenings.
There was always that bubbly girl turned bubbling-with-tears, who had to say, “He didn’t even know my name!”
Then there was that indifferent chick who pretended not to care, “His loss. I hope he has fun dating that trash.”
And once in awhile, a girl would smile and shrug, “It just wasn’t meant to be.”
But of course, the worst was always saved for last.
A skinny girl with golden skin and pale blonde hair lay curled up on her bed, the navy blue ruffles of her expensive comforter clashing with her raspberry sweatpants. She kept one arm arched over her face as the tears fell, stinging her cheeks to cause unexpected light freckles to be revealed. She cried—her face buried in the silk casing of a pillow—too stubborn to allow a single sob to escape her lips.
Mia sat next to the girl, her knees digging in the Queen-sized bed. She kept her eyes set on the girl sympathetically, her heart wrenching at the sight. She fell down beside her, gently extending an arm around her friend, pulling her into a hug.
“It’s okay, Darcy,” She said quietly. She hadn’t done this before, and she knew Darcy hadn’t either. Neither of them had ever needed comforting, nor had they seen each other break down so horribly—especially over a guy. “He’s a jerk. He shouldn’t have just left like that.”
Her friend only nodded, holding a clamped hand over her mouth. She folded her arms around her body and sunk further into a ball. “He lied about it too. He said he wasn’t going to Princeton,” Darcy muttered silently. “He didn’t even say goodbye.”
“I know,” Mia lowered her eyes.
“You’d think he’d at least say goodbye,” She shook her head, tears dripping down both cheeks. She covered her eyes. “I fücking hate this. I hate him.”
No, she didn’t, but Mia couldn’t exactly say that. “I hate him too,” She said.
The door swung open and Mia looked up to see a tall, lanky yet muscular boy, similar blonde hair of her friend’s tousled in tiny waves before his deep blue eyes. He kept still, turning his eyes to the left, and then to the right. “Am I interrupting some sort of revelation of my little sister’s sexuality?” Darcy’s nineteen-year-old brother, Erik, smiled jokingly. He shifted his gaze a bit, and lowered his eyebrows. “Oh, shït, is she crying?”
Darcy sat up, slinging her pillow towards the doorway in one swift motion. It hit Erik’s leg before falling to the floor. “Next time that will be a fork!” She shot. “What do you want!?”
“Uh,” Erik started cautiously. “Valentino’s mom is here to pick her up.”
Darcy slumped back to position, looking up at Mia with brimming, red eyes. “I’ll be fine,” She said. “I’ll go to sleep or something. You can go home.”
“Are you sure?” Mia asked. Her friend nodded. “Okay. But I won’t be happy about it,” She managed a smile and stood from the bed. “Call me if you decide you hate sleeping and need to stock up on doughnuts or something.”
With one last glance at her friend, Mia walked out of the room and clicked the door closed. She started towards the spiral staircase, watching the white marble floor appear after every step down. At the bottom, her mom stood aimlessly, examining the wood-paneled walls and French artwork hanging loosely on canvases.
She turned when she heard Mia’s footsteps, her eyes proving how intensely uncomfortable all the wealth made her. Her mom swept her dark brown hair—just like Mia’s—up into a bun, and fanned herself with a thin hand.
“They can afford Da Vinci, but not A/C?” She complained.
Mia rolled her eyes and walked towards the tall wooden doors. “It’s raining outside Mom, the temperature in here is just right.”
“Right, well, let’s go,” Her mom pulled open the doors, and started hastily down the pebble walkway. “Did you have fun?”
“Jake broke up with her the hard way,” Mia stated flatly, popping open the passenger door to the black Subaru. She ran a hand over her rain-dropped hair and sat, buckling her seatbelt lethargically. “So yeah, it was a blast—that was sarcasm by the way.”
Her mom sighed, turning the key in the ignition. She set the gears in reverse, and kept her eyes on the rearview mirror as they backed up towards the electronic gate. “Poor girl. But there’s nothing anyone can do. Guys are always going to break hearts,” When they were in the street of the neighborhood, her mom snuck an eerie smile her way. “You just got to make sure you’re the one doing all the heart-breaking.”
But heart breaking sounded so painful for the victim—it was painful for the victim. She didn’t want to do that to anyone. No one deserved that. So why wasn’t there a simple solution to helping girls out of the mess?
“I’m sick of all this love-crush-dating crap,” Mia decided, staring out the window as the rain streaked the glass. “Don’t you think there has to be a way to make anything you want happen? Like a theory or law that states anyone can be happy with the person of their choice if they say the magic words?”
“Yes, dear, those words are ‘I do’ and that law is ‘marriage’.”
“Wow, how very unnecessary that was right now, Mom. This is serious,” She stared. Her mom simply laughed. “Humans are each encoded with the same basic instincts, right? And everyone has hormones and chemicals that tell them what to think and feel and want…”
Her mom burst into a deeper chuckle. “So that’s your plan? You're going to create Love Potion 2.0?”
Something clicked in Mia’s brain—call it inspiration, call it genius. She could almost hear the shifting of the puzzles in her mind as it all fit into place. A smile grew on her lips, and she understood.
“No,” She began. “I don’t have to. There are all sorts of psychological studies on the male brain, research done on relationships and how boys function with them. Everything can be simplified down to science and reason,” She stated certainly. Her mom cast another uneasy glance her way, but Mia brushed it off. “I’m going to figure out the equation it takes to make any guy fall in love.”
And when she found it, she was going to share it.
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