Her and... him

(external narrator)

Alone, even more alone. Alone in her thoughts, alone in this corridor, but above all, alone in this nightmare. This girl is so insignificant in this great white corridor that passers-by take no notice of her.

What happened? She can't remember. Try as she might, the only thing she remembers is the burning anger she felt before ending up here.

She thinks back to the evening before. She regrets the sharp words she may have uttered in the heat of the moment. Perhaps they were the last words she ever spoke to him. She would give so much to take them away and change the course of this altercation.

She was in her room, alone in her own world. With a notebook in one hand and a pencil in the other. She loves these moments when she can see the world through her pencil strokes. On her sheets of paper, the universe seems less complex than it really is. It's stopped at a precise moment, limited by the bores of her paper, while emphasizing a single point of view. She sometimes loses herself thinking about what it would be like if he stopped at his drawings. In reality, you can't say that everything is black or white, and that makes everything too difficult for her taste.

Suddenly, a voice called out to her, snapping her out of her thoughts.

- Mia Jennifer Wilson! You've got to come down now!" someone shouted from below.

She gasped. She really didn't like being interrupted. The girl had no desire to go down, so she decided to take her time. She'd go down with a bang. In any case, whatever she did, she knew very well how it was going to end. It's always the same with her mother.

- Ah! The mole is finally out of its hole, I see, miracle! she let out in a breath.

His ironic air exasperated her. Anger flared in Mia's cheeks. If her mother continued, she wouldn't be able to listen much longer without doing anything. But the teenager continued to stare at the golden-haired woman.

- School starts again soon, Mia. So make the most of your last days: go out, have fun, party... be a normal teenager for once in your life!

She pauses, seeing the anger on her daughter's face. Before resuming her monologue.

-For example, when I was the same age as you, I...

Mia didn't even bother to listen to the end of her sentence. Her mother always makes everything about her. Mia knows her stories by heart. Back then, her mother was the perfect daughter, the little cheerleader every boy dreamed of. The popular girl with the big head. And now she wants her daughter to be just like her, but she doesn't understand that Mia isn't like her and never will be.

Mia was really fed up. Anger was building up inside her. She could no longer remain impassive in the face of the situation and his words. She turned and went up the stairs two at a time. Once upstairs, she took a few strides and returned to her room at racehorse speed. Then Mia slammed the door as hard as she could behind her. A deafening noise echoed through the corridor, before reverberating throughout the entire dwelling. She's finally in that reassuring place: her room. It does her good. At last, she could try to calm down and regain her composure.

Unfortunately, her rest was short-lived. The sound of machinery was heard in the corridor. She turned around in a flash and what she saw left her speechless. The door disappeared before her shocked eyes, making way for a red-haired, bearded man. Behind him, hidden by his tall stature, stood her mother. She looked dejected but above all angry.

- If you can't close a door properly, you might as well take it off," she said with a satisfied look.

Mia's anger rose more than ever. Her blood was boiling. She couldn't stand still any longer. Her mother knew how sacred the privacy of her bedroom was to her daughter. So she did what she'd wanted to do for so long: she spoke her mind!

- You know, Mom, no matter what you do, I'll never be like you! I wouldn't want that for anything in the world anyway! If you only knew how much easier it would be without you! she shouted in his face.

The truth finally came out of her mouth. And boy, did it feel good. She saw the pain in his eyes, which gradually turned to black anger. As for her father, he didn't move a muscle. Surely surprised by his abrupt and straightforward answer. An uneasy silence settled between them. After what seemed an eternity, his mother broke the silence. She had a tear in her eye.

- You've just gone from a week to a month without a door, my dear. I hope that makes you think. she let out with all the anger she was capable of.

Barely had she finished her sentence when she left for the first floor. Her father looked into her eyes for a moment, a sad look on his face. He didn't like it when they argued, but unfortunately it was happening more and more often these days. After a moment, he decided to follow his wife down the corridor. Halfway down, he turned around.

- It'll do you good, Mia, believe me. He pauses. You left us no choice.

Those were his last words before leaving.

Of course, he would never go against a decision made by his dear wife. He wouldn't dare, she told herself.

She had to calm down; the heat had reached her cheeks. She thought back to the techniques her shrink had taught her when she was a child to deal with phases like this. So she sat cross-legged on her big white bed and closed her eyes. She let the darkness invade her. "Come on, Mia, in and out. And again and again." she repeated to herself. She tried to think of something else, anything. For example, the little cat she got for her fourth birthday. He was so cute. He was always with her, wherever she was and whatever she was doing. This memory gradually calmed her down. Her heartbeat became slower and slower, and her breathing slower and slower.

Until a draught of fresh air from the corridor blew one of her magnificent locks of hair down in front of her face and Labrador-blue eyes. This reminded her of the episode that had just happened and the hole that gave way to a view of the corridor's beige wall. It was not anger but rage she felt now. She was seeing red, and maybe it wasn't just an expression after all. She grabbed her sheets with her fingers and pulled them as tight as she could. The heat was becoming unbearable. She could no longer control anything; anger was taking over her entire body. This must be what a volcano feels like when it erupts, she told herself.

And then it's black. Complete darkness.

She stares at the closed door, every corner of which she now knows. The last thing she remembers is her father's screams, her mother's complaints and that power. They still echo in her head. She remembers being called, but her body didn't react... This feeling of powerlessness drives her mad...

A tear rolls down her cheek.