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𝗕𝗔𝗦𝗞𝗘𝗧 𝗖𝗔𝗦𝗘
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again. I think I made you up inside my head.
────────── Sylvia Plath
Isadora Windsor never wanted to look. It was like when she was a kid and her grandmother died. Her mother had said she was too young to go to the funeral, but her father insisted, claiming she needed to see the real world for what it truly was. But when it was the young girl's time to actually view the body, she couldn't. It was like her body just froze, and everything flew by her in a blur. She couldn't look. She never wanted to, and she supposed it all began that day when she was first faced with the notion of death.
That was what the girl feared—death. But not just death. She feared seeing the world for what it truly was. She feared stepping outside of the life that was perfectly crafted for her. Because the thing about the Windsor family (although she would beg to differ that it was more like a cult than an actual family), was that they were rich. And not just plain old rich, they were so rich Izzy basically had trust fund on top of trust fund to fall back on.
So there you had it, Isadora Windsor never wanted to look and see the cruel reality of the world burning up in flames before her very eyes. She wanted to stay locked behind the walls of her estate, wrapped in bubble wrap with no chance of the world being able to prick her skin. She wanted to grow up surrounded by silks and jewels. She wanted it all. And she had it all. But that was the problem. She had it all, and yet . . . she still felt a void in her chest growing larger and larger each day . . . because deep down . . . she knew she had already seen the true cruelty the world had to offer.
The void grew the more the feeling of being alone seeped back into her life. She didn't want to see her perfect life be ripped apart by the hole in her chest where her mother's memory resided. She didn't want to look at how much her life had gone downhill since her mother passed away during the summer after Izzy's first year of high school. She didn't want to look at the old pictures of them together or peer into her mother's bedroom. She couldn't even bring herself to look at her mother's corpse during the viewing and she certainly didn't want to visit the graveyard and see the name Julia Windsor engraved in the slab of stone. She just couldn't.
That all made her angry. She was already angry before. It had been embedded into her chemical makeup from the moment she came into the world kicking and screaming. Izzy was just always angry. But now she had a reason to be. Her mother was dead and her father was always away on business trips, leaving her to roam around her house in Figure Eight. She spent most of her days like that—alone. And she hated it. Not only that, but her friends were sorry excuses for freeloaders, and her boyfriend was an asshole who she only stuck with because she was friends with his sister. It was all just so stupid and meaningless.
