Prologue
“Every day she just sits in her room and does nothing. Okay! That’s on you.”
I could quite literally be on the streets doing drugs. But sure, let’s complain that I’m inside the house. Completely safe. Or, as safe as one could be physically.
The girl thought about crossing the street and not checking for traffic right then and there, but she had assignments to turn in. One especially that required her full focus since it was already as boring as it seemed to be just by the description alone. Besides, cars never did much damage to her nowadays.
“After reviewing the biography and excerpts from The Coquette by Hannah Webster Foster and the videos posted on the previous pages in this module, write a response of no less than 500 words in reaction to the readings/videos. Respond, react, analyze, and speculate about her life and writing. Feel free to also ask questions or speculate-”
“Diana!”
Her father’s voice filled the silence that she was only beginning to enjoy.
“Make sure to mop or sweep. Just-” he sighed, anger evident in his voice, “-do something damn it!” he shouted that last part, shutting the back door behind him. She could smell the trail of cigarette smoke that followed him out.
She heard her mother’s footsteps inching closer to her room. They were soft, but heavy.
She pushed the door open. Knocking was a foreign concept in this household.
“You heard your dad. Go do it.” And with that, she went back to whatever it was she was doing that only made her father angry for not helping her do.
As if pretending to cook in the kitchen by watching cooking videos online for an hour was such a hassle to do.
Her mother was quite skilled in the kitchen, Diana never knew why she bothered watching other people make something that she could make blindfolded. Though she was excellent in the culinary arts, she seemed to be easily winded with tasks that involved cleaning. Mopping especially.
Diana rolled her eyes. Not bothering turning in her mother’s direction as she responded, “Okay.”
She knew better than to argue with one who only valued their own voice.
She stared at her laptop in front of her. The screen glaring the assignment in her face, one that she already knew would depend on Google for.
Diana was smart, and she had a knack for writing. A skill she used to be proud of a week ago.
She used to be a lot of things a week ago.
Human, being one of them
