Introspection

Chapter Three

After seventeen years of living with her mother, Harper knew better than to expect an uninterrupted conversation without warning Lydia in advance. She hoped the text was enough notification to get a second of her mother's undivided attention.

The previously bright day had turned to gloom, and after the chilly walk from the bus-stop, she embraced the house's warmth. Her ears began burning from the sudden heat as she peeked around the stairwell, toward her mother's office. The double-french doors were open, Lydia's best effort at a welcoming sign. Though Harper hadn't checked her tablet for a response, she assumed her mother had gotten the message, given her eyes rarely left the screen for long.

She fixed her posture stiffly, something Lydia had a tendency to nag her about, and before making it halfway across the foyer, her mother called out,

"Harper, come in."

I was planning to.

"Thank you," she offered instead.

To Harper's surprise, her mother's desk was entirely clear, with no trace of a tablet in sight. Lydia sat with her arms folded atop the deep mahogany wood, peering at her over thin-rimmed glasses. The last time the two had a conversation like this was when Lydia told Harper she would be adopting another child four years ago. That, however, had been initiated by her mother, whereas this was entirely her own doing.

Settling into the armchair across from Lydia's desk, she cut bluntly to the point, "I saw a video of my history teacher being hanged today."

"Previous history teacher," her mother corrected cooly.

"Yes. It spurred governmental questions that I felt would be fitting for you to answer," Harper appealed to her strength in government knowledge, sure it would spark a fire of interest in her response.

Lydia glanced at the clock that hung over the door frame, then looked back to her daughter, "Go ahead."

"What crimes justify hanging?" Harper blurted before quickly, bringing her eyes to meet her mother's in an attempt at false confidence.

"Just one," Lydia held her gaze, "not taking the medication."

Harper furrowed her brow, "Surely, there are worse crimes than not ingesting a pill?"

Her mother coiled back slightly as though she'd been slapped, "Has school taught you nothing on the subject?"

"We've been taught of other criminals, who did things far worse than forget medication," Harper fought the urge to shrivel beneath her own fear, "people killing other people, stealing children, and things of that nature. So why don't they deserve death?"

Lydia exhaled heavily, leaning further over the desk, as though preparing to speak to a small child, "They both deserve and receive death before getting the opportunity to end anyone's life."

Harper stared at her blankly, but before she could express her confusion aloud, Lydia continued,

"The criminals you speak of were from a time before the medication existed. It was a time when peoples' minds were allowed to run rampant with feelings of rage and malice- feelings that couldn't be controlled. Allowing those who chose to partake in the chaos of emotions to run free would be a risk to public safety, practically an invitation to their impulsive, dangerous behavior. They make a choice to let these thoughts in, and we must prevent the inevitable consequences they bring."

She dropped her shoulders when she finished as Harper stared at her with intrigue. Even though her mother's explanation made perfect logical sense in her mind, something at the base of her abdomen had begun to shift.