𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗

I bolted out of the house in nothing but my pjamas, my heart racing with excitement. Not even bothering to slip on shoes, I spotted the mailman retrieving our mail from his truck. I couldn't contain my enthusiasm, and I probably gave the poor guy a heart attack.

"Mom!" I yelled as I rushed back into the house. She was most likely still sleeping. "Yes?" came her whispered reply from behind me, making me jump.

"Jesus, Mom, you scared the life out of me," I gasped, clutching my chest dramatically.

"What's with all the commotion? Is it here?" she inquired in a calm tone, completely disregarding my near-death experience. I nodded and handed her the torn-open letter. She raised an eyebrow at me before turning her full attention to the paper in her hands. As she silently read it, I tried to decipher her expression, but it remained elusive.

A slow smile crept across her face as she continued reading, and she looked like a child seeing a dolphin for the first time. "I got in?" I asked, still uncertain. My dad was completly against me going to art school, and my mom had always been enigmatic about her feelings on the matter.

"You got in!" she exclaimed with excitement, embracing me in a tight, bone-crushing hug.

As we hugged, I felt my left shoulder grow damp. Was she really crying? Sure, the school was quite a distance away, but it wasn't as if she'd never see me again, right? For now, I decided it was best to keep my comments to myself and let her revel in the moment.

"Did you seriously apply to that school behind my back?" my dad's voice echoed from the kitchen. As he drew nearer, I had an inexplicable urge to gouge my eyes out with a spoon.

"Yes, Dad. I earned a scholarship, so I won't need your money for my studies anymore," I explained with as much patience as I could.

He scoffed, "Well, good for you because you won't be getting any from me at all, considering my opinion doesn't matter in this house."

I had expected a response like that. He was the most predictable person on the planet, and I always had backup plans-B, C, and even D-whenever I had to rely on him. But how I hated this man. He always swooped in to ruin everything I ever attempted. Knowing he wouldn't support me financially and since he is the one with the money, I had saved up some for a fresh start. I got Mom to call Georg and ask if I could stay with him for a while until I found a job and, hopefully, my own place. Thankfully, he agreed.

"How wonderful, Hagen," my mom nudged him, anoyed, and strolled into the living room to watch her morning shows while sipping her coffee.

My dad was smirking now, thinking he had won. I turned away and headed upstairs to call my best friend.

You see, my dad and I had never gotten along because he always favored my brother. It was hard to blame him, though; Georg was a sweetheart and the most successful person in our family for the last four generations.

I reached my room and flopped onto my bed like a starfish. Grabbing my phone, I dialed Kath, my best friend. It rang four times before she finally answered.

"Lolita? Hey, baby girl, what's up?" she chirped.

"Hi, girl! Guess what?"

"What?" she asked eagerly.

"I got in!" I exclaimed, my excitement filling the room.

She squealed, and my eardrums almost burst.

"Wait, where?"