Indigo Whispers: The Collective

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The sound was agonizing.

The thin, 13 year old had been seated at the kitchen table for almost half an hour. Bags under her eyes, hands fidgeting with her pencil, she felt exceedingly wound up. Seeing as it was only she and her mother occupying the house, a dead silence had befallen the premise. All but the clock and the sound of mother washing dishes.

Evangeline knew exactly why she was here; why her mother had told her to do her homework at the table. Quite simply, she was failing math. And no matter how she tried to describe how hard it ws to focus during class, how the numbers just wouldn't stick, mother brushed it off every time. Oh, no, there's nothing wrong with you. That ADHD thing they say you have must be fake. You're lazy, you're incompetent, you need to try harder, blah blah blah, on and on. Honestly, Eva wasn't sure how much longer she could handle those biting words.

As if this wasn't enough, everything else in her life was piling up. This ability she'd gained recently - the mysterious, almost disturbing ability to pull drawings off of paper - all mother seemed to want to do was show it off. Every afternoon, and every other evening, she was dragged off to perform for some crowd. To display what mother called an amazing magic trick. And every day Eva would be denied food and water until she had done everything asked of her adequately. Just now she had gone without supper becase it had been discovered she hadn't done her math homework ("I didn't have any time," she thought, "you made me sketch for Ms. Dunham until my wrist hurt."). Icing on the cake, upperclassmen at school had started to verbally and physically force her into making these "living drawings" for them. Merely thinking about it made the red, inflamed marks on her arm throb - remnants of a girl who attempted to drag her to another room to make a picture for her.

Sitting here, empty of any words, was almost too much. She simply had to say something.

"...Mom?"

Her weak words were met with only the same silence, aside from perhaps a slightly louder clinking of dishes. Clinging to the hope that she wouldn't be ignored, Eva swallowed her spit and tried again.

"Mom? Mom, I can't-"

Crash.

In what seemed was pure irritation, Constance slammed a dish on the counter with force and whipped her head to face Evangeline. The girl jumped what felt like a foot in the air, every limb shaking. She knew what this meant. She was in trouble.

"Will you please stop bothering me? You're in here to do work. So do it!"

Her lip was trembling now. "I c - I can't, mom. I just can't."

"Oh, please." All this earned was an indignant eye roll. "Yes you can. And you'd better do it fast, you're drawing for Ms. Peterson as soon as I'm done here."

With a sickening wave of emotion, Evangeline felt her heart drop to her shoes. No. Not now. After everything she'd gone through today she was expected to perform again? It felt absolutely preposterous. Even though arguing with her mother always seemed pointless, a quivering sense of injustice in her heart prompted the child to speak once more.

"I don't want to. I'm so tired, I've had to work at this all day."

"And I don't care, Connie. You didn't finish your work, and this is the consequence you pay."

"But it's not just the math! You've been making me draw all day, I haven't had time to work on it! I can't even focus -"

"Don't start with your 'I can't focus' excuses. I don't care what they say about your "ADHD", I will NOT let you use it to get of homework."

"That's not fair!" Her voice was rising in pitch and volume as she spoke. "You never listen to me, you're always overworking me, you don't even care!"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!"

This time, Evangeline didn't just jump - she cringed, shriveling in her seat at the anger in her mother's voice. Panic was setting in deep in her chest, as Constance spun around and strode across the kitchen.

"You listen to me, young lady. You live in MY house, and as long as you do, you follow MY rules and MY orders. You're being an ungrateful little brat! I am trying to HELP you, and all you can do is whine about it. You will go without food tomorrow, and you WILL draw for Ms. Peterson tonight, do you understand me?"

Heart racing. Tears welling. For one furious moment their two pairs of eyes locked contact. Then, Eva spun around and ran for the stairs, slamming her bedroom door at the top and not looking back once.

"It's not fair."