You don’t want a fight in this uncomfortable situation, but you agree with Jessica. Keeping her past hidden won’t help Allison in the long run. You’re unsure how will that help her in the long run, but that means she’ll open up eventually.
You do, however, something that Jessica wasn’t expecting. “Ash, Jess is doing this to help. You got no issues with it, right?”
“Oh no,” he says with his usual calm. “I’m all for doin’ what Ally wants, but I also know Jess only wants to help.”
You notice Ally steps out of Ash’s shell, sitting down straight. She takes her time, but Jessica’s hand grab bolsters her. “You can do it when you’re ready.”
It doesn’t take her long – less than a minute, after swallowing a deep lungful of air. “Alright. It all started when...”
--
...when I was fifteen. When we moved here, from Tyneside, after living most of my life there. I never questioned why he moved away from our friends, from our family, but he was adamant to do so. I adapted quickly, since I was about to enter high school. Allen... not so much. His friends were there, he was right in the middle of middle school... It was all new for him.
Maybe because of this, I changed. I was always a pretty good student, straight As, but once I arrived here, I was more interested in finding myself than going straight to Tynemouth. And that journey of discovery put me at odds with Dad. He has always been very strict in all aspects – academical, behavioral, you name it. A very conservative person, despite what he teaches.
See, Dad’s a... uh, professor of Literature in Tynemouth, focusing on poetry – he always told his students he’s related to Alfred Tennyson, the famous poet and aristocrat – and always expected us to study there. I’ve entered there, and Dad treats it like a temple of knowledge of something – which is weird, since he’s not religious.
Because of this, he’s always kept an eye on our studies. Guided us in what we should focus on. Got us into a good elementary – Phillips, a private school for the rich, though we got in because of the ties between Tynemouth, Phillips and St. Lenore. Heck – I was gonna be one of the St. Lenorans, until Dad moved. Can you imagine myself as one of those rich bitches?
But when we moved here, he changed his mind. He moved Allen to Edgefield Middle High, and I got enrolled in Edgefield High. And no – I don’t recall ever seeing you two around. He kept monitoring our courses, our grades, as he expected both of us to get into Tynemouth.
But being here changed everything. I never imagined I’d be around normal people, instead of the rich, the would-be rich and the old blood of Tyneside. I’ve always been extroverted and a bit of an oddball, so I quickly connected with people here. Since I was new, they wanted to take me everywhere. But of course... that depended on Dad allowing me.
If it was to the park, or a historical building, as part of school? Hesitated, but not much. Anywhere else, including for a study group? No dice. Heck – study groups had to be at home, and I could see him watching at me, checking everything.
And soon enough, Dad insisted I had to connect with other people. Keep an eye on the smart and the wealthy. Get into Debate club, any academics, go straight to AP classes – anything that could get me into Tynemouth. At first, I was like “yeah, sure”, but then... I didn’t like the attitude of the AP guys. I was getting removed from the friends I made on my own.
And then, I realized Dad was manipulating my every step. Everything so I would enter Tynemouth. That had to be my only focus. And not just entering there. It had to be a good career.
Now, let me make this clear. I’m not against studying or anything. Back then, I actually dreamed of entering Tynemouth, mostly because of how Dad painted it up for me. I’d be studying and befriending important people. Wealthy people. Even nobles. But I couldn’t stand him controlling my life. And as I grew up, wanting to find myself, he became... an obstacle.
It started slow. First, because he talked to Prof. Yates, claiming I was interested in entering the Poetry club. I wrote a few things, and Yates asked me if I could do a personal recital, which kinda baffled me, but when I showed him my stuff, he was disappointed. He starts reciting the kind of poetry Dad’s used to, and I try to identify who wrote it, and then he says “didn’t you write this?”
That’s when I learned he faked a poem for me only to convince Yates to let me in his club. And because Yates, just like Dad, is a traditionalist that cares more about metric and rubric than feeling. My poems were for myself, not for anyone else. But Dad wanted me to “cultivate” that talent – his words, not mine – for publishing purposes. Since then, I haven’t written a poem ever again.
Then, next year, I get into AP English and I get a B on the first test. Dad was furious. He asked what I was doing in my free time, why did I fail a test like that, and I told him – I did pretty good. But it wasn’t enough. Anything below an A would prompt a harsh talk from him. Then, anything worse than a high A. According to him, I had every resource, every opportunity, and I was squandering it.
Since doing my best wasn’t enough, I figured he’d never be satisfied, so I started running away. At first, I told Allen to keep shut and cover me up while I visited my friends. Mom called, and I texted her saying I was fine and that I’d return back by dinner. Thirty minutes later, Dad was there, questioning why I was at the park instead of at home, studying. At the park. What the hell?
Last year, I realized I had enough. I couldn’t be with the wealthy people because they were a bunch of good-for-nothings, couldn’t be with my friends because they were, his words, “socially maladjusted”, and the only friends I could have had to be vetted by him. He’d be there, at my room, and see me study and even ask me questions if it was anything related to Literature.
I felt so choked by Dad that I started researching how to become independent. At school, I studied everything I needed to emancipate. At home, I started helping Mom so she’d cover me, trying to learn how to cook, how to clean, how to do things my own way, then asking her if I could clean my clothes and stuff. And I pretended I was studying while doing my chores, to appease Dad.
Ashton was the last drop. We started dating at the start of our junior year, knowing Dad wouldn’t agree. I started defying Dad. Thanks to Ashton, I started doing weed and finding the calm I needed. I even stayed at his house for a week, and I skipped school for the first time in my life when Dad went to school to drag me home. His attitude became obsessive. Either I graduated from Tynemouth or I’d be thrown.
Thanks to Ashton and my friends at school, I gathered a few funds to hire a lawyer. I initiated the process to emancipate, got myself the job at Save-Mart and started working towards my independence. Once I got the summons, I faced Dad and told him I was tired of his manipulations. He said that if I rebelled, he’d never consider me his daughter. I gave him the summons letter and said, “tell that to the judge”.
The judge argued for family therapy, but Dad had enough. He said he renounced to his claim to a “self-destructive child” and made a counter lawsuit renouncing to his parental duties and that he surrendered me to the state. He was fed up with me, and I asked the judge if that was enough to grant me my emancipation. As I proved I could live on my own thanks to Ash and my friends, I was granted it.
During summer, I took my GED, working to finish that last year of school. Turns out, the test was a joke – guess I gotta thank Dad for that – and after making rent arrangements with the folks at front, I got this place for myself. I applied for food stamps and asked my manager if I could work full time, showing him my emancipation letter. He agreed.
It’s been like... what, six months from that. I finished my junior year since Dad already paid for it, which is why I could take the GED test the month after. Mom called once, but after that, it’s been radio silence. Dad made true to his word ever since.
And you know why all’a that happened? Because Dad was thrown off his job. Moving to Edgefield? He sold our house to find a cheaper one here. Allen could stay at Phillips, but he made me enter public school to save up. And he expected us to get to Tynemouth the hard way, hoping on a scholarship so we could study there. He’s giving classes at Tyneside High now.
It’s the stupidest thing. Dad couldn’t handle losing his job and expected us to pick up the slack. Bet he expected he’d live up from us. Instead, he ostracized me. I’m pretty sure he’ll never want to see me again, and I couldn’t care less. I feel less bad about Mom – she could’ve done better. She could’ve intervened. But she didn’t. And yet... she cried when I left, and she’s tried to call. I know she has.
But Allen... I... I...
--
“...I fear he hates me now.” Allison finishes her tale by finding refuge in Ashton’s arms. Jessica’s crying, rubbing her hair and comforting him, but her eyes tell a different story. It’s as you rub her arm that she dashes away, crying.
As Ashton follows, Jessica draws closer. Her lips draw close to your ear, whimpering. “Babe? Is it me, or does this all feel like a misunderstanding? Maybe if we helped her, we’d--?”
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author
