Everybody talks about happily ever after - yet nobody talks about how it’s obtained.
Nobody talks about the humble beginning that drags you down.
Nobody talks about the horrible work that makes you want to collapse.
Nobody talks about the terrifying trauma that leaves you screaming at night.
Nobody talks about the bittersweet end that took too much out of you to enjoy life.
Everybody talks about happily ever after - nobody talks about the journey.
But maybe, maybe, despite the emotion, despite the exhaustion, despite the trauma, despite the emptiness… I can.
At least, I can try.
A Prodigy’s Journey[]
Prologue[]
The blanket is tight and itchy. I fidget, but it restrains me. I start to thrash and cry. Where’s Mommy? Where’s Daddy?
I cry louder. Maybe they can’t hear me.
Nothing.
I fall silent. Maybe they’re busy.
Nothing.
I wait.
And wait.
And wait.
Nothing.
More tears start to come, but I stay silent. Mommy and Daddy will come if I don’t cry, if I stay silent, if I bottle it up.
I just want Mommy and Daddy. But they’re not here. I just want to cry, but I’m too tired. I just want to sleep, but I’m too uncomfortable. So I stay stiff, still, silent.
Mommy and Daddy will come.
The air gets chilly, and then cold, and then freezing. I stay silent.
The world gets dark and I’m scared. I stay silent. The silence gets torturous and I hate it. I stay silent.
Suddenly, all too quickly, I’m crying. First silently, then loudly, until I’m screaming and wailing for somebody, anybody. I’m scared.
I want Mommy and Daddy. Where are they? Do they hate me? Do I hate them?
Suddenly, somebody leans over me. I stop crying at once, embarrassed. If I cry, I’ll chase them away. They pick me up roughly and toss me somewhere, not showing their face, and snap, “Jade.”
They leave as quickly as they came. Was that Mommy? Was that Daddy?
Maybe I do hate them after all.
I start to sob, not caring anymore. They hate me, and I hate them. Then the blanket falls away and another figure picks me up curiously. Through my tears, I catch a face. It looks like Daddy. But no. Daddy is bigger. This person looks even weaker than me.
“So you’re Jade?”
I sniffle, glad to be free of the scratchy blankets. Not-Daddy’s eyes fill with something I don’t recognize. Pity? Sadness?
Love?
I lean into my brother and cry.
He doesn’t let go.
Prologue |