Metronome

Prologue

My mother was, as mothers are, filled to the brim with old sayings. There were the standard ones, like, "Trying new things builds character!" and, "I am your mother, not your personal chauffeur." One of my favourites was, "Good things in life are earned. For every hardship that a person faces, life will give that person two good things in return."

Those words kept me sane for most of my life. They helped me through the period when I was diagnosed with Intermittent Explosive Disorder at the age of 7. They calmed me when I cried for hours after one of my breakdowns, my room trashed, my father often with bruises on his arms from trying to restrain me. They helped me graduate with a Master's degree in musical education, and move into a nice house in a good neighbourhood with kids who seemed to want to learn about music. I grew to believe those words with all my heart, that every bad thing that happened in my life was finally being replaced with good.

Unfortunately, I was wrong.

"A-an eviction order?" My mouth felt dry, and my heart seemed to drop somewhere around my knees.
"We're sorry, Mr. Lupin," The lawyer said, sounding more bored than genuinely regretful. "You've failed to be able to produce the required amount of money to pay your bills and taxes for over six months. Something had to be done."

"B-but, you can't do that," I stammered, my palms sweating. I fisted my jeans as I stared at the papers being shoved in my face. "M-my teacher's salary just barely covers my medical expenses--if you just gave me a couple more weeks, I'm sure I could pull something together--"

"Mr. Lupin, you've been saying that for the last seven months," The second man said, sounding irritated. "We are aware of your current situation, but between your medical expenses, your therapy, and the damages to the property--"

"I've paid the damages!" I protested, tears burning behind my eyes. "I've covered the expenses--"

"Yes, but Mr. Lupin, when there are so many damages to the property so frequently, there comes a certain point when we need to draw a line."

I had nothing to say to that. I knew that it was true, and I understood; I just couldn't believe that this was happening to me.

"Wh-what about my job?" I asked, my voice quavering. "Where will I go? What about the kids?"

"That isn't our problem. You will be expected to be moved out within the next 36 hours." The lawyer shoved the papers into my hand and nodded as they left. I stood by the door for a moment, then slammed it shut and slid down onto the floor, resting my head in my hands.

"What do I do now?"