Once Upon A Nightmare ♥JG (on hold)

Chapter 8

The interview ended shortly, I was relieved but I've never felt so stressed.

Right now, I'm standing out on the balcony looking over at the city.

Lately, my insomnia is getting worse. I can't sleep, too many thoughts in my mind, too many worries, too many doubts.

Sophia would usually sing songs to me and talk to me until I fell asleep sometimes I'd even sing with her, but she's not here.

No one is.

My mother is probably, jumping with joy and my father being the nice man he is, is trying to play both sides. My brother is probably still the same, I just don't understand how you could let a member of your family go so willingly.

No tears -of sadness- being shed.

No last hugs or kisses or goodbyes, just a suitcase and a kick out the door.

I surprise myself every day when I don't cry, when the pressure of the world on my shoulders doesn't get to me. When the grief of my awful life haunt me, I still never fully crack.

I never had a childhood, I never had a normal life, I never had a choice.

Do this, do that, be this, be that.

I can't anymore. I want to be my own person.

I want to determine my fate, I want to live freely.

But I can't.

I can't because I can't let my mom down, I can't because it'll be the world's biggest upset, I can't because I'd probably be hung, I can't because I want to make my family proud.

Maybe this way they'll grow a bond with me I've always wanted.

Its not too late is it? My mother could possibly love me? Right?

Of course not, its way too late. I'll be eighteen on Halloween, an adult. She doesn't care, she never will. She'll bend over backwards to save Jack, but wouldn't spit on me if I was on fire.

Shame.

A mother's bond with their child is supposed to be unbreakable since birth, since the very first second you hold the baby in your arms, cradling it to sleep.

Not mine.

I was born then shipped off to obedience school until I was six, beaten into my 'lady like ways' and molded into a 'perfect woman'.

In this world, I could care less of what people thought about me but I cared more than I should when it came to my mothers opinion.

She was my society, rude, cruel, depriving, deceiving, awful, and dangerous.

She'd dress me with her lies, and name me with her rumors, scar me with her words and hurt me with her opinions.

Never have I ever cried so much when my mother would criticize me.

"You will be worthless! You will be trash, a slut. Leave if you want but don't come back, the world isn't kind Genevieve. I'm just trying to show you"

Her words jabbed at my heart, and tears instantly puddled in my eyes.