Stolen Voices ✓

January 28th

Calm her chaos,

but never silence her storm.

- K. Towne Jr.

January 28th:

Just outside the sparkling mansion a bright orange sun falls on the small pond frozen over with ice. Standing rigid she takes in a breath of the dry night air, filling her lungs with much-needed oxygen and shaking her head away from the thoughts. The large windows shine the glow of the light and life from inside onto the front stoop where she lingers, preparing herself for what's to come.

Mara was discharged from the hospital a week ago, but because she is eighteen, she demanded this time that they didn't tell her mother. She needed time to prepare herself for the belittling and pestering, staying at her friend Ryn's apartment for the past week. 

Her mother believes that because she is prosperous and can afford to buy away all of her discrepancies, that Mara can simply be fixed with a crisp check signed by Doctor Genevieve Gray. She doesn't understand that this malady is wired in her brain, that no amount of high priced doctors and prescriptions will ever rid her of its claws. It is who she is. 

Sucking in another staggering breath, she clutches onto the arm of her backpack, filled with the stolen To Kill a Mockingbird and used clothing. Rasping her bruised knuckles twice against the red-painted door, she waits a minute before being greeted by their butler, Happy.

"Miss Emanuella," he glows, "how the household has missed your presence." Mara scoffs, snorting as she shakes the snow off of her shoes on the mat. She allows Happy to take her jacket, keeping such a tight clutch on her backpack that her knuckles turn white.

The bag isn't designer, like everything else she once owned. Rather just a knitted knapsack that her friend gifted her on her birthday last year. Her mother despises it, which makes the appeal of it only grow for Mara, who strives to upset the family in more ways than one. 

"Your family is getting ready for dinner, I presume you remember your way," Happy teases. He motions for her to travel into the grand dining room, decorated with round fluted marble columns. His polished shoes are almost as glistening as the tiled floors enhanced with soft golden flecks that shimmer under the light. It emanates from the grand chandelier that hangs over the grand staircase. Everything about the house is immaculate. And grand. 

Taking it all in, in all its perfection, Mara realizes just how much she really does despise this place. It is always so clean and perfect, the demons of its truth lurking behind bolted doors, with keys nobody owns. Every piece of furniture stands as a polished distraction to hid the failures.

Walking towards the dining room, the voices of her very successful, and eye of perfection, twin adult brother and sister hook her ears. As well, the low static of the company they produce, two women. She wasn't prepared to deal with more than her mother, about to turn back. Though the voice of her elder brother Mateo calling to her stops her in her tracks.

"Hello, Emanuella, how was Italy? Mother tells us you went on a school trip." He speaks, his tone firm and professional. She's never heard him talk otherwise as if he makes it his mission to be the blandest he can strive for. His expression never carries an ounce of emotion, his face always set in a stoic glare to fit his pressed suit. 

Gradually turning back, taking her time to observe every detail of the wall, hoping to prolong seeing their faces, she is met with the same vitreous blue eyes she posses. The only feature she and these people, who sneer at her, share. Everyone in Mara's family has dark brown hair, and even darker skin, whereas she has honey blonde hair and a much paler complexion.