An Inconvenient Attachment

Age 13-14

Third Person Omniscient. Age: 13

"DAD STOP!" The prodigy screamed from the top of her lungs.

This seemed...

"I'm sorry honey! You need to learn that your future could and can be better like this!" Her father screamed back.

All too familiar.

"I'll bring my grades up! I promise! I'll stop playing around with bots!" She tried to compromise with him. The hot tears were back. Burning her cheeks, burning through the gold that'd been holding on for the past decade.

"PLEASE DAD! I'M SORRY! I SWEAR I'LL FIX IT! EVERYTHING!" She screamed some more. The hot tears falling on her foot burning through the gold there. This time with the help of the sweat that she's never experienced until now. Also burning through the golden armor, the golden assets, the golden everything.

Drilling noises were heard from the other side of the door. The door was made of pure chromium. He'd received her shipment and used it to make a door soley for this purpose.

"DADDD! PLEASEE! AHH!!" The young prodigy had given up fighting. She had her back towards the door and slumped down on the ground in a fetus position. The hot tears and sweat started to burn all the armor protecting her. The melted gold pooled around her along with the tears.

All til it reveals that behind all that golden armor and beauty...was a child. 

A scared child. Who hadn't asked for anything in her life. Who hadn't asked to be gifted. Who hadn't asked to be the center of attention. Who hadn't asked to born. Who would do anything to not be ordinary. To not be anything less than what she's been her whole life. Well look at her now. She wondered what 9 year old Y/n would think.

Y/n just lied there on the floor. Feeling defeated, depressed, absolutely done with everything.

This is what she got for being a child with interests in things other than the parent's expectations.

She'd been surrounded by praise and applause for years and years. But when she made a small mistake. And instead of consoling and comforting her, she was forced expectations onto her. She was only important and loved because of her acheivements and success. Not her as a human. She felt sick to her stomach. An ick that she couldn't get rid of. Just there running around playfully with no sympathy or pity to her heart and organs.

It was...a horrid feeling.

"I'm sorry Y/n...I hope this can help you come to your senses..." And with those being the last words Y/n's thumping head heard, Robert Callaghan walked away from the door. With his chest raised a little too high...

...

First Person. Age 14

"Y/n...please eat..." My father spoke.

"No." I replied. I had this thing where I wouldn't eat between long periods of time. All different intervals to not give him any idea of a pattern.

"Why must you be so difficult?" He sighed heavily as he spoke through the hole from the bottom of the door that he'd kept as a speaking hole.

"I hope you know you're not helping with anything. Just because this worked on 1 out of the 3 women in your life doesn't mean that it'll work on the last. One exceeded your expecations, the other up and left the world...I wonder what the last will do. Maybe she'll end up like the second little piggy." I spoke twirling the pen in my hand. I got closer to the hole of the door and took a deep breath.

"Not. Breathing." I whispered.

The man on the other side of the door jumped at this and gasped. I smirked at my impact on him. "Just let me live my life outside of your unreachable hopes." I frowned, genuinely hoping he'd come to his senses.

"..."

There was a pin-dropping silence.

"...We'll talk later." He got back on his feet and walked away. My ears shot up at this new dialogue. Anytime he'd leave it would be "No," or "I can wait." Or just anything in between.

This gave me...a rush of hope. Motivation. A feeling I haven't felt in a while.

..

I picked up the pen and turned on the lamp. The light shined over the college level mathematic study books that'd been given to me by my dad.

I hadn't lost my spark! Its been here all along. It was JUST A MALFUNCTION.

I smile to myself and open the book. The first equation read: (2x + 3) (4x - 1) < 8x^2 + 1

Distributive Property/Binomials. Easy-peasy.
2x (4x - 1) + 3(4x - 1) < 8x^2 + 1
8x^2 - 2x + 12x - 3 < 8x^2 + 1
8x^2  + 10x -3 < 8x^2 + 1
-8x^2                -< 8x^2
10x - 3 < 1
+3         +3
10x < 4
/10   /10
x < 0.4

Finished!

I let a stupid grin grow on my face as I circled the answer. It was so satisfying to feel this. As if it were an out of body experience. The way the numbers finally started to make sense to me. It was so unearthly.

After that, it didn't stop. I kept doing equations until I finished the whole 7-9 grade books and 2 college level ones. Those and the other subjects. I'd finished about 5 two-page essays that perfectly answered and broke down the prompt. I felt accomplished seeing the words of encouragement of the online teachers that dad had hired to try to get me back on the spectrum.

And boy did it work. I was back. I am back. I am better.

...

Yeah, this was my first mistake. Blinded by the thought of being better than ordinary. Better than everyone else that isn't gifted like me. And I sure as hell had my 5 seconds of fame because of this. Thattt only lasted about a year and some of course..

...