or the fact that we can no longer avoid our house. What matters is fulfilling their high standards and expectations regardless of what it costs my family.
But I know Mom and Dad do this for financial reasons. Mom once told me how these people can help Daddy with lucrative business opportunities. And I understand this is something we need. Especially in our position.
Ever since Daddy’s business partner passed away five years ago, things haven’t been the same. Mom and Dad both try to do everything to hide it, but I hear them talking at night when they think I’m asleep. I know they fret about their debt. I notice the worry lines on Daddy’s face. I see that his shoulders that used to carry me around when I was a little kid are now hunched like he carries the weight of the world. He doesn’t have kisses for Mom and me anymore when he comes home; in fact, he hardly even spares us a glance.
Daddy isn’t happy. I know it’s because of the large amount of debt and the lack of income. It also has something to do with that club he works at, the one I’m not allowed to visit. I realize that place only heightens my dad’s paranoia.
Grabbing the box from my nightstand, I open the lid. The watch winks at me with Daddy’s and my name emblazoned on the back of it. If I surprise him at work and give him the present, maybe he’ll smile for once. I miss seeing his smile. He was my king when I was a kid, but now all I see is a broken man.
With the box in hand, I stroll around the house that once reminded me of a king’s castle with its high ceilings, marble staircases, and portraits hanging on the walls. Our house used to feel warm and inviting with the champagne-colored walls and comfy, pastel-colored couches. But now, this house feels like a fancy prison I’ve been locked in for far too long. I don’t want to feel this way. This is my home, but I can’t help it. Everything about this place makes me feel suffocated. Every day I stay in this house I feel isolated, ignored, and… inadequate.
I hear Mom yelling orders at people about what she wants and what she finds unacceptable. The house is a mess now with an upcoming party that will only put our finances even more in trouble. I have no desire to interpret her tirade to let her know I’m leaving. I’m eighteen; I should be allowed to go wherever I want on my own. But I hardly leave the house unattended. Mom and Dad have the strange idea that I may be in danger. And I’m sick of it. It just adds to the suffocation I feel every day. It wasn’t always like this, but for the last five years, they’ve taken me out of school to be homeschooled and made me report to them whenever I’m about to go somewhere. Even if it was just to grab a coffee. But today, I’m feeling rebellious. Before leaving home, my roller skates catch my eye. I had never got the chance to ride my roller skates outside of the property. It’s either too risky for my dad’s standards or too childish for Mom’s. But while rebellion pumps in my veins, I grab my roller skates and hit the road.
As I glide down the road with my headphones on, the warm wind of this autumn day hits me, bringing the smell of the ocean with it. And for the first time, I feel like I’m seeing the world, and it’s beyond freeing: it’s both dizzying and exciting.
With the navigation’s directions in my ears, I stop in front of the entry of Club Black. Its onyx color helps it stand out from the other buildings. It sits tall and intimidating. Pushing the oversized door open, I enter a red-lighted hall that’s both modern and eerie. Maybe I should be scared of my dad’s reaction since I shouldn’t be here, but all I feel is excitement. A thrill to be in a place I’m not allowed to. A man turns to me, his broad shoulders and tall frame dominate the hallway. As he heads toward me with a stern look on his face, I wonder if he’s the boss or owner of the club.
“You shouldn’t be here, young lady.”
Feeling a bit uneasy, I clear my throat and plaster a smile on my