Supernova

5: The Day the Kettle Sung

TW: Mentions of emotional abuse/trauma

"Really? You're letting her get away with this?!" Mom laughs, but it's that cold, spiteful chuckle again. "This is the future of the Wang Corporation!" She gestures to me like I'm an animal at a zoo.

"Honey, please. She won't have the responsibility of the company for many years, I don't understand-"

"It's her reaction!" Mom's voice reaches a new high. "What did you say, Sora? Go on, tell dad what you told me!"

My lips are trembling, completely refusing to cooperate. "I-I..." Dad will understand, won't he? If I tell him what happened?

I just wanted to draw. I didn't mean for it to be on the back of the test, and I definitely, definitely meant to finish said test before giving it in. But the drawing had to be done first, it just had to be.

"You told me," mom hisses, "that it 'wasn't that important.' Didn't you, Sora?"

"I didn't mean it-"

Dad sighs in disapproval. "Sora," he groans, clearly exasperated. "You know you can't speak to us like that, don't you?"

"Yes, but..." I want them to stop talking, but I don't know what to say. I want to leave the kitchen, but I can't.

"Then why do you do it, huh?! And get that look off your face! You have no reason to feel sorry for yourself!"

"One thing is not completing a single test, but you can't dismiss your mother like that."

"Come on, answer us! Can't you do that?"

"Sora, you can't be quiet right now. This is serious, and I'm not going to let you pass up on this conversation."

The words grow in strength and number. I stop making sense of them, mostly because my own body won't let me. I can't speak, and my thoughts aren't there anymore.

"Don't! Don't touch me!"

I yell before I my nerves tell me I've been touched. Specifically my arm, and the area is itching and burning from the unexpected pressure. I drop to the ground, digging my fingers into the spot.

Whatever my parents try to tell me is intertwined and cut off by the sound of my own breathing and sobs. The world dissolves into fear, and I curl up on the tiles with my hands over my ears.

"Are you going to quit making a scene now? Seriously, Sora, you have to grow up. You're too old to have fits." Mom's words would cut through steel doors and fortress walls.

My lips want to move and form the words I want to scream at her. Deep down, they manifest into letters and sounds, but I can't grasp them.

Then there's a loud, screech-like sound. Through the tears, I see steam rising from the kettle on the stove. A stern pillar of white, so hot it could melt my skin.

Today, I know the words I want to say. They're the same words I want to tell the teacher, but are kept back by the embarrassment and terror.

How could you? You were supposed to help me.

Memories, sounds and smell pass through me at an ungodly speed. It doesn't even feel like I'm real, and I have no concept of how long I'm on the ground for.

Eventually, as always, my chest eases. I can breathe, even though it hurts. I can think, but there's nothing to be thought of. My arms let go of my knees, and I tilt my head back.