Claws

o n e

❝There are no heroes,

in life, the monsters win.❞ - George R.R. Martin

                                                           o n e
                                                         g r a c e

 It was undeniable. When you are alone, you are alone. There is no one else, just you and yourself, with your own thoughts to occupy you. When someone is alone, there is always just that tiny part of them that they have buried away for so long, that wants them to not be alone.

Take me for example. My wandering mind is often my only company is this pity less hole I call a life. I don't mind though, the reservation, the solitude. It means I am independent, capable of having a fun time by myself. I went to the movies by myself the other day. I wasn't lonely, in fact it was fun. It meant I could eat without worrying about sharing, I could watch the movie without worrying if the other person liked it or not and I got to have both the armrests to myself.

I saw being alone as a positive, because I didn't have to worry about anyone else's opinions, just my own and that meant I could express myself freely. Now, when I say I'm alone, I don't mean I live in a shabby little house, living on minimum pay with four cats. I'm not completely alone, I hear the big front doors open, the heels in the hallway, the consistent chatter of a high-class solicitor talking on the phone. 

I should probably explain. You see, this high-class woman that I speak of, is my mother. Francesca Marone is the best person for all your legal cases. But, the best comes at a high price, and most people are willing to pay up. Never losing a case, my mother drives a hard bargain. You can acquire her services for a minimum of $2,350 an hour. That's how she affords to be a single mum. When her pockets were over flowing she purchased the mansion that we live in. Well, I live in. My mother practically lives in her office.

Now, I'm not trying to sound cliche here. I'm not some tall, stick figure model who throws parties and owns the most expensive things, yet still complains that she has the worst life and that her parents hate her and so on and so forth. I am a petite girl, with short blonde waves and light grey-green eyes. I am thankful for what my mother has worked so hard for. I must admit, my mother can get caught up with her work, put me on a pedestal and expect me to strive to follow in her footsteps. I admit that sometimes she can be a bit over-bearing, but she is my mother, and nothing will change the love we share for each other. She wants what's best for me, as most parents do for their children.

I don't dislike my mother, it's just that she is a very busy woman and I like to keep to myself. I would rather koop myself up in my room with a good novel then waste my life away partying only to wake up in the morning with my head over the toilet bowl. I attend the most prestigious school in the country and I take that opportunity to advance my education and strive for success in my studies. I pride myself in getting an A+ for every subject on my report card, year after year. It is something I take pride in, and it is something I would much rather be doing, than wasting my mothers money on an expensive high school only to get drunk every night.

I have only 3 weeks until I graduate, until the impending doom of life after high school hits me full force in the face. I arrived home from school, once again struggling to push open the large wooden doors that opened into the foyer. I get inside and close the door, slipping my mandatory black lace-up schools shoes off and lining them up in the collection of shoes by the door. My socks are pulled up, resting just below my knees, and I drag my feet toward the voice echoing from the kitchen.