Chapter Text
A cooling silence lay over the room in which I was able to hear the ticking of the Mahagoni clock in the entrance hall and even the breaking of bubbles in my water glass.
"What did you say?", my mother asked coldly.
That coldly that I had shivers running down my spine.
She sat on the sofa opposed to me.
One of those ridiculously expensive ones.
It was held in the style of baroque.
The material which coated the sofa was so over the top antique that it was nearly embarassing.
The wood the sofa was made of was painted white.
Just like most of the house. The mansion.
I liked to call my mother some kind of parasite. She lived off of the money of my father.
And that was all she ever did.
She drove into the city or to malls and bought the most expensive clothes or chairs she could find. For herself.
Every day she walked around in her expensive clothes and with her costly heirloom-earrings and pearl-necklaces.
Even when there was no one visiting.
Over the top tasteful. Overly expensive. Simply objectionable.
She was a dreadful person.
Kind to those people she thought could be useful someday and arrogant to those who she thought not worthy of her kindness. I was one of the last.
I wasn't worth living.
I wasn't worth living the life at her side.
I wasn't good enough, not good enough at school, not friendly enough, not good looking enough.
I was a disappointment. In her eyes.
I looked at her, the cold grey irises of her eyes steered back at me.
"I'm leaving.", I said.
Her lips pressed together even harder, so her mouth formed only a thin, straight line.
"You are definitely not", she said determinedly. She was angry. Very angry.
But I just stared back at her. Silent. She knew that I'd go. She hoped that I'd go.
But still she ordered me to stay here.
Here in her over exaggerated friendliness.
She wanted me to drown in it.
And she knew that I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't stay with her anymore.
I couldn't stand her hilarious looks anymore. And I had to go. So that's what I did.
To tell the truth I had already packed my bag.
A few clothes, my favorite book, my mobile phone, charger and hygienic articles.
I didn't know what would happen to me and truth be told I didn't care.
The only important thing was that I got away from here.
Away from my mother, away from my father, who didn't see anything or anyone except for his work.
I didn't want to go. And I couldn't stay. I was homesick.
Not the kind of homesickness everyone knows.
Mine was different. I was homesick for something else. Not for my home or my room, not for my bed or family. I was homesick for the feeling of being loved.
Being wanted. Being accepted.
I don't know if you know that feeling but I do.
I feel it. Every single day.
And this was the reason why I went away.
One reason was, of course, my mother. One reason was my father. But the thing that got the stone into rolling down the hill was this feeling.
I heard that teenagers tend to let their feelings lead their decisions. That hormones go crazy and that they don't even know what they're doing.
But this, this was different.
Maybe it was because I never really got to see what love was. Of course I had seen it in movies or TV-shows, in books or at school.
But I never got to experience it.
Neither my father nor my mother cared about me when I was younger. I was a necessary bad because they both hoped that one day I would become a star in the walk of fame.
A great, famous person. So that they could look down at me and say "Yes, that's all my doing".
And now that I was older both of my parents were disappointed in me.
I loved books, films and TV-shows. I played the violin. And I had no friends. I went to a prep school for over-rich snobs. I did everything my parents wanted.
But still I wasn't good enough.
I had too bad grades. Not good enough.
I played the violin too bad. Not good enough. I had no friends. Pathetic.
My mother continued staring at me with her cold grey eyes. And I didn't know what else to say to her.
'I hate you? How can one person be so cold hearted?'
I didn't ask her. Instead I simply stood up and began walking. I went to the door which lead to the corridor and to my room. My mother didn't follow me. I don't know what she did but I believe she simply stared into the air.
But I climbed up the stairs to my room and to my backpack, which was filled with the most important things I has.
I had my shabbiest clothes already on.
A two months old jeans and a Hollister shirt.
I know that shabby is not a description that fit to those clothes but I didn't have anything else.
And at that point in my life a two months old jeans was shabby to me.
I took my bag from my bed and went down the stairs in my trainers.
Walking to the front door I passed the door to the living room. While I was passing I saw that my mother hadn't moved one bit. Not a centimeter.
She sat there, Lady Stoneheart. But I had to continue walking.
I opened the door and breathed in deeply. The air was warm, it was summer. I heard the clicking of heels from behind me.
My mother.
So I began to walk faster. "Charlotte Ada Sophie Montgomery! Come back here this instant!", my mother began to shout nearly frantically.
But I continued walking. I couldn't go back. I didn't want to go back. I didn't have to go back.
I don't know what I thought the outer world would be like, Gondor or Emerald City, but I would never find it.