She Screams In Silence
You've Gotta Hold Onto Yourself
"Rory Marie Henderson, turn that garbage off!" A voice yelled from downstairs. Rory sighed and turned her stereo off. Soon, she heard the sound of angry footsteps coming up the stairs. Great, she thought to herself. Her door slammed open. Yes, slammed open.
"What did I fucking tell you about listening to that? I will not have that horrible noise in my house!"
Rory winced. Her dad was drunk, and he was yelling at her. Past experiences assured her that nothing good could come of this. As much as he prided himself on being a well-respected and well-to-do businessman in this town, he sure as hell didn't act the part at home. No one can see behind closed doors, right?
"Yes, Daddy. I'm sorry."
"You're damn right you're sorry, and you won't have to worry about it happening again, either. Hand them over," he ordered, referring to her CDs.
"What? Daddy, no! Please! I'll put them away, I swear!"
"I said hand them the fuck over, Rory! Don't make me have to make you do it!" Make her do it? What did he call this, suggesting politely? Rory sighed and picked up the scattered disks that were on her bed, then handed them to her father. He glared at her and held his hand out once more. "ALL of them."
Damn. She defeatedly reached under her bed and pulled out her entire music collection and gave them to him.
"Here," she said bitterly.
"Don't 'here' me, girl. Now, go to bed. You've got school tomorrow." He walked out of the room, with all of Rory's music in hand, and shut the door roughly behind him. It was only seven-thirty.
Rory cried herself to sleep that night. Her father had just taken away the only thing that was truly hers. Everything else was the product of her parent's plan for her. Rory would wear what was picked for her. She would be friends with who her parents told her to associate with (the children of her parent's friends). She would listen to the music that her parents selected (classical), eat the food that was put in front of her (zero calories, no fat), and do the activities that her parents approved of (singing lessons, classical piano lessons, reading). Nothing less and nothing more was allowed or there would be dire consequences involved, such as the CD incident that had just occurred. Anything that Rory ever got interested in on her own was always taken from her. Always.
+
The next day, Rory arrived at school promptly on time. She always did, though she'd really rather be somewhere else. But again, she had no choice. She strolled to her first period class in her red, knee-length dress and her black and white Oxfords, with her golden blonde hair tied behind her in a taut ponytail. She was a seventeen year old from 2007 that had the appearance of a ten year old from 1954. She received several sneers and snickers from her peers.
She was the first person to reach her Biology class and sit down. Her teacher, Mr. Johnson, smiled at her.
"Hello, Miss Henderson. I see you're on time today, as always."
Rory just smiled at him and nodded. She was, in theory, the perfect student. She was never late, she never talked out of turn, and she always made the top grades in all of her classes. What a burden. She struggled to understand most of the curriculum in her classes, and she had to use most of her free time to study, just to maintain those spotless grades. If she didn't, well, she'd have less freedom than she did now. (Which wasn't much to brag about to begin with.)
The rest of the class filed in and started talking to their friends, but Rory just sat there. None of her "friends" went to the same school she did. She was enrolled in Pinole High, while everyone else had either graduated or attended private schools. The bell rang, and Mr. Johnson started their lesson about plants. Rory listened as intently as she could as he described the way that plants are pollinated, and where the different kinds reside at. The truth was, she was bored to death.
"What did I fucking tell you about listening to that? I will not have that horrible noise in my house!"
Rory winced. Her dad was drunk, and he was yelling at her. Past experiences assured her that nothing good could come of this. As much as he prided himself on being a well-respected and well-to-do businessman in this town, he sure as hell didn't act the part at home. No one can see behind closed doors, right?
"Yes, Daddy. I'm sorry."
"You're damn right you're sorry, and you won't have to worry about it happening again, either. Hand them over," he ordered, referring to her CDs.
"What? Daddy, no! Please! I'll put them away, I swear!"
"I said hand them the fuck over, Rory! Don't make me have to make you do it!" Make her do it? What did he call this, suggesting politely? Rory sighed and picked up the scattered disks that were on her bed, then handed them to her father. He glared at her and held his hand out once more. "ALL of them."
Damn. She defeatedly reached under her bed and pulled out her entire music collection and gave them to him.
"Here," she said bitterly.
"Don't 'here' me, girl. Now, go to bed. You've got school tomorrow." He walked out of the room, with all of Rory's music in hand, and shut the door roughly behind him. It was only seven-thirty.
Rory cried herself to sleep that night. Her father had just taken away the only thing that was truly hers. Everything else was the product of her parent's plan for her. Rory would wear what was picked for her. She would be friends with who her parents told her to associate with (the children of her parent's friends). She would listen to the music that her parents selected (classical), eat the food that was put in front of her (zero calories, no fat), and do the activities that her parents approved of (singing lessons, classical piano lessons, reading). Nothing less and nothing more was allowed or there would be dire consequences involved, such as the CD incident that had just occurred. Anything that Rory ever got interested in on her own was always taken from her. Always.
+
The next day, Rory arrived at school promptly on time. She always did, though she'd really rather be somewhere else. But again, she had no choice. She strolled to her first period class in her red, knee-length dress and her black and white Oxfords, with her golden blonde hair tied behind her in a taut ponytail. She was a seventeen year old from 2007 that had the appearance of a ten year old from 1954. She received several sneers and snickers from her peers.
She was the first person to reach her Biology class and sit down. Her teacher, Mr. Johnson, smiled at her.
"Hello, Miss Henderson. I see you're on time today, as always."
Rory just smiled at him and nodded. She was, in theory, the perfect student. She was never late, she never talked out of turn, and she always made the top grades in all of her classes. What a burden. She struggled to understand most of the curriculum in her classes, and she had to use most of her free time to study, just to maintain those spotless grades. If she didn't, well, she'd have less freedom than she did now. (Which wasn't much to brag about to begin with.)
The rest of the class filed in and started talking to their friends, but Rory just sat there. None of her "friends" went to the same school she did. She was enrolled in Pinole High, while everyone else had either graduated or attended private schools. The bell rang, and Mr. Johnson started their lesson about plants. Rory listened as intently as she could as he described the way that plants are pollinated, and where the different kinds reside at. The truth was, she was bored to death.