It was too much. Way too much for one day.
Only hours ago I gave up a small facet of who I was. Ryder Daniels took my virginity and nothing would ever change that no matter how much I wish I hadn't let him do it. If only I had a little more of a backbone -- if I had been a stronger woman, I am certain that I would have said no. Yet, even in not saying no, he should have seen it on my face that I was hesitant. I didn't exactly say yes either.
Part of me also worried about what would have happened if I did say no. I was at his house, in his bedroom. I was in his domain and, if he willed it, entirely at his mercy. If I had said no, would he let me leave... or force me to stay? The thought sent a little bile up my throat.
Looking back, all I could see was an animal. He, perhaps unknowingly, took something precious of mine like it didn't mean anything. And now I felt like nothing.
The pit in my heart sank only further as I looked over the pamphlet that Dad had handed to me. It appeared that Northridge was well known for their STEM programs as there was a collage of teenage students wearing lab coats, holding flasks, and graphing data. I looked through their lists of clubs and programs, but there was nothing there for the arts. Not to my surprise, I must admit. I had heard about a choir competition between several schools and how Northridge was reputedly the worst; I could understand why they would not want to highlight their weakest department.
This could not be my future. I have no passion for anything as stoic and structured as the sciences do. And yet, the choice wasn't mine. Dad was going to decide for me that this is where I was destined to be. I looked at the students smiling with their safety goggles over their eyes as I felt tears threatening to well into mine.
I felt stunned. My lips refused to part in fear that any words that come out would be more high-pitched than I'd intend them to be. My father spoke instead.
"Northridge is one of the best schools in the state for preparing kids for STEM fields. You can strive to be whatever you want: a mechanical engineer, epidemiologist, statistician, or a pharmacologist --" I barely recognized the words, "-- anything other than theatre."
The way he said that word. As if the whole industry of it, all of the effort people put into it, and the joy that audiences get out of it, was foolish. I thought back to the first show I saw at 10 years old. Mom had taken me to the Pantages Theatre to see Wicked. Among us in the audience were people of all varieties; many older men and women who dressed to the nines, possibly still thinking that theatre was reserved for the affluent; some clearly lower-class members who still dressed their best for the occasion though probably could not afford to see many shows a year -- if anything, that must have made the evening that much more special to them. But the audience members who had caught my eye the most were those who seemed most unconventional. That was the first time that I had ever seen men in make-up or feminine clothing. Dad certainly would have been appalled, but I found them rather fun and inspiring.
Once the lights dimmed, the orchestra opened on a note that could be felt through your whole body, and the curtains began to part to reveal the first scene. In that precise moment, it didn't matter who was sitting around you -- it was only me and the characters on stage. I was in complete awe of the women playing Elphaba and Glinda; their voices were respectfully, powerful and angelic. I knew at that moment that I wanted to be a part of this world.
Only a couple months ago, when I got the news that I got into Hollywood Arts with my audition, I was overjoyed. Now looking at this stupid Northridge pamphlet, the tears laying on top of my bottom lid were close to spilling over. I had to go away. Without letting Dad see the clear grief on my face, I quickly headed to the staircase.
"Now wait just a minute, young lady! You come back here and be reasonable."
I hated the tone he used. He used it all the time to get me to behave as a child or to appear greater in an argument. I would rather die than to walk back now and let him see me cry. In this family, crying was seen as a weakness that would get you nowhere. I had to think on my toes to stop more tears from coming so that I could turn back to him. The only thing to do was to mask them with an emotion stronger than sadness -- anger.
"I don't want to go to that stupid school, Dad. I don't care about statistical analyses or null hypotheses or whatever other big words they use. It's boring! I'm not going! I will hate you for the rest of my life if you make me."
It worked. The tears had vanished from my eyes, and all that was left was rage.
"Who the hell do you think you are talking to your father that way?" I refused to be made to feel small, so I stood my ground as he then took a step toward me.
"You don't know what you want, missy. You want to sing and dance around for the rest of your life?" he laughed, "You're chasing a fantasy like a child. It's time for you to grow up."
I scoffed back at him, "You don't get it. You don't know why I can't leave Hollywood Arts, because you don't know what it's like to actually love anything."
His face turned scarily dark and just pointed upstairs, "To your room. Now."
"Good, I need to work on a screenwriting assignment anyway," I smirked as I gladly walked away.
***
I should pop in to say thank you for reading my first story on here! There's still a LOT of story to come, so bear with me as I slowly churn the rest out. Please let me know how you're liking it so far! <3
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Jade Awakening
Fanfiction"So... acting is really about not acting. But instead about letting the emotions inside you come out and represent moments that deeply resonate with you.... I need to write that down!" An exploration of Jade West's backstory and the beginnings of B...
