Pride.

Chapter 3 ~ Macbeth

"What kind of dystopian world do we mindless fools inhabit ourselves in, that one drowns day after wretched day, in a pool of their own misery and sorrow?"

"Better, Macbeth, but you need to put more feeling into it."

Macbeth, or Beth, as she likes to be called, groaned at another one of her mothers unwanted comments. Bad, no, horrible enough that her theatre addicted mother named her after a gruesome play. Now her mother wanted her to master all and every aspect of the theatre.

Beth would rather be locked in her room, dying her hair multiple colors, and reading LGBT web stories.

Her strictly Catholic family would keel over if the only daughter and granddaughter would mow down her closet door, and proclaim her eternal allegiance as a lesbian.

"Macbeth, pay attention! You have earned the lead female role in your school play, so you must work harder than anyone!"

Beth nearly snorted at that remark. If she was correct, "earning" something didn't include her mother paying and blackmailing the principal, so that her unwilling daughter could be a reluctant star in a crappy, low budget play. Sometimes, she didn't know if her mother was just obsessed with the theatre, or simply batshit insane.

"Honestly Macbeth, it's like you don't even want to be in the play! Of course, darling, I know that isn't true. All Cappilettes are destined to preform!"

Beth rolled her eyes, glad that the spotlight was shining so intensely into her eyes, so that she couldn't see her mother's face transform into her lecture mask. Her mother went overboard, renting out a theatre room, so that Beth could get used to preforming onstage. When your family had money, the world was basically in the palm of your hand.

Macbeth would rather have a bag of cocaine.

"One more time, Macbeth! Then we will go out for some dinner!"

Taking in a deep breath, Beth stared at the passage her mother was referring to. Then, she began to recite.

" I sincerely do not remember giving you my consent, mother and father, in choosing my spouse for me. Love cannot be contained by the restricting options and beliefs of mentally blind bigots. Whether it be male or female, young or old, happiness will never be anything, but a well deserved state of bliss for every existing, living creature on this damned orb in a goddamn expanding universe, called Earth. I WILL NOT HAVE MY RIGHT TO LEARN AND LOVE TAKEN AWAY FROM ME DUE TO MY GENDER AND AGE! STATUS IS NOTHING, BUT A TEMPORARY, UNIMPORTANT THING, THAT DISSIPATES AS SOON AS DEATH SO MUCH AS BREATHS ON YOUR DOOR. Call me a witch, a whore, a prude, stuck-up little bitch who has no idea what she's talking about. But no matter your opinionated comments, and your disappointed glares, I will live MY life that was given to me. Your statements do not matter."

Macbeth's mother nodded her head in content, and proceeded to pack up. Beth just stood there,mom the stage, worn out from the raw emotion she had displayed. The emotion her mother had just chalked off as simple acting.

Because her mother didn't know,

Not even Beth knew,

But an unnoticed confession had just taken place.