Living Like a Mouse? How About a Lion?

You expect me to be WHAT?!

The thing about trying to live a quiet life is that it never goes as planned. You can try to blend into the walls, play nice, and even avoid eye contact like you're on some covert mission. But when your life is a never-ending string of disasters wrapped in a bow of bad luck, peace and quiet become more of a distant dream than a possibility.

Take today, for instance. I thought I'd done everything right. I stayed out of the way, didn't speak unless spoken to (rare for me, I know), and made a valiant effort to keep my face in its neutral, "I'm not causing trouble" expression. It was exhausting. And what do I get for my efforts?

A lecture. From Derrick. Because, apparently, I haven't mastered the art of being invisible yet.

Me: "Like a mouse? Like a mouse?"

That's it. I've reached my breaking point. I burst into laughter—not the delicate, polite kind, but the unhinged, borderline maniacal kind that makes Derrick's left eyebrow twitch in that infuriating way.

Oh, sorry, let me catch you up. I should probably explain what led to my latest descent into madness. Derrick, my ever-so-charming older brother, had just graciously informed me that I should "learn to live quietly, like a mouse." That's right. A mouse. He actually said that. And, well, it broke me.

Me: "Oh, Derrick, you really do have a sense of humor after all."

He doesn't, by the way. Have a sense of humor, I mean. Derrick is about as fun as a brick wall, except the brick wall probably has more personality. He just stands there, watching me like I'm some kind of unpredictable wild animal that might bite at any second. Honestly, he's not wrong.

Derrick: "I'm serious, Penelope. You've already caused enough trouble. It would be best if you just stayed out of sight, out of mind. Live quietly, without causing any more disgrace to the family."

Ah, yes. The family. The prestigious Eckhart family, to which I am apparently nothing but a walking embarrassment. Never mind the fact that I've spent every waking moment trying not to breathe too loudly in case I upset someone. I'm a disgrace, and the only solution is for me to vanish into the background.

A mouse. Really? A mouse? I mean, if Derrick had told me to live like a lioness, fierce and strong, maybe I'd consider it. But a mouse? That's just insulting.

Me: "You know what, Derrick?" I rise slowly from my chair, every movement calculated for maximum dramatic effect. "If that's what you really want, why don't you just kill me now?"

Yep. I said it. Out loud. Probably not the smartest thing I've ever done, but hey, if I'm going to go down, I might as well go down in flames. I can practically hear the crackling fire of my sanity as it burns away.

Derrick, of course, doesn't react. He's always been annoyingly calm under pressure, which is ironic considering he's the one applying most of the pressure in my life. I half-expect him to pull out a sword and take me up on the offer, but no, that would be too easy. Derrick doesn't do easy. He does slow, torturous lectures on how I'm ruining everything by simply existing.

Me: "Go ahead. I dare you. Or is it more fun for you to watch me suffer slowly? I'm just a game to you, aren't I?"

There's a flicker of something in his eyes—annoyance, maybe? Anger? It's hard to tell with Derrick because his face could be carved from stone, and it would probably have more expression than what he's showing me right now. Still, I push forward because, at this point, what do I have to lose?

Me: "Sorry, big brother, but I'm done living like a mouse. If you want quiet, you can bury me now. Otherwise, get used to the fact that I'm not going to crawl into some corner and die just because you find my existence inconvenient."

I watch him closely, waiting for the inevitable explosion of rage. But it doesn't come. Derrick just stands there, staring at me with that same cold, indifferent look that makes me want to throw something at him. Maybe a chair. Maybe myself. I don't know, I'm not picky.

In the silence that follows, I start to wonder if I've finally broken him. Maybe my words have finally gotten through that thick skull of his, and he's realizing that, surprise, surprise, I'm not going to sit around and wait for him to order my execution like some pathetic, trembling creature.

Me: "I'll be in my room. Or should I say, my mouse hole? Let me know if you change your mind about that whole killing-me-now thing."

And with that, I spin on my heel and make for the door, my head held high. I may not have much power in this household, but I'll be damned if I let Derrick or anyone else treat me like I'm something they can sweep under the rug.

As I walk away, I can't help but imagine Derrick standing there, fuming silently while trying to figure out what just happened. He's not used to being challenged—especially not by me. Normally, I'd just grit my teeth and endure his lectures, but today? Today is different.

Maybe it's because I'm tired. Tired of constantly walking on eggshells, tired of pretending like everything's fine when it's clearly not. Or maybe it's because I've finally realized that if I'm going to survive in this place, I need to stop acting like prey and start acting like a predator. I may not have sharp claws or fangs, but I have words. And right now, words are all I need.

I reach my room, throw open the door, and flop onto my bed, the anger still simmering under my skin. The audacity of Derrick, telling me to live like a mouse. As if that's the only way to survive. No. If I'm going to survive, I'm going to do it on my own terms. And if that means confronting Derrick head-on, then so be it.

I stare up at the ceiling, feeling the weight of everything settle over me. It's not just Derrick. It's this entire cursed situation. I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't ask to be thrown into this game where my life is constantly hanging by a thread, where every choice I make seems to lead me closer to death. But here I am, and if Derrick thinks I'm going to live quietly and fade into the background, he's got another thing coming.

No more mouse. From now on, I'm a lion.