Chapter 1 ( Perfect)
I don’t dream anymore.
At least, I don’t remember them. But lately, every night is the same. A voice finds me in the dark. It’s soft—almost a whisper but what it says is always clear.
Perfect.
Perfect house.
Perfect family.
Perfect grades.
Perfect features.
Nothing less than perfection.
I open my eyes, sweat sliding down my forehead and along my neck. My body feels heavy, frozen in place. I try to speak, but no sound comes out. Even though I can’t recall what I dreamed, I know it was enough to send a shiver down my spine.
Something feels off.
Today is the last day of the last week of high school, and everything has been wrong since I woke up. But I can’t show it. Nothing must appear on my face. Only composure. Only perfection.
That’s what they taught me.
Perfect posture.
Perfect manners.
Perfect silence.
I whisper it like a prayer.
Perfect house. Perfect family. Perfect life.
The words feel familiar.
Too familiar.
My body feels too heavy to leave the bed, but I force myself up.
I can’t be late.
Never be late.
A knock echoes through the door.
“Come in.”
Mortimer steps inside, hands folded neatly in front of him.
“Good morning, sir. Your uniform is ready. Your parents are waiting for breakfast. Please do not be late.”
I nod.
“Okay.”
My voice sounds empty, even to me.
He helps straighten my jacket and kneels to adjust my shoes. As he does, a thought flashes through my mind quick and sharp.
What would happen if his perfect skin split open?
I imagine red spreading across white fabric.
My stomach tightens.
I shake my head hard, forcing the image away. I don’t know where it came from.
I don’t dwell on it.
There are more important things to worry about.
Every morning follows the same pattern.
Wake up.
Get dressed.
Eat breakfast.
Leave.
There is no conversation. No smiles. Only the quiet clink of silverware.
“Elijah.”
My father’s voice cuts through the room.
He is tall and lean, with dark hair and cold eyes that miss nothing.
“What time is it?”
“Seven oh one, Father.”
His jaw tightens.
“You are late. What have I said about tardiness?”
“It is unacceptable.”
The slap comes fast.
My head snaps to the side, but my face remains calm.
“This will teach you,” he says. “We must maintain our image. Even at home.”
“Yes, Father. Thank you for your correction.”
I want to scream.
Nothing comes out.
My mother sits beside him, perfectly composed. Beautiful. Silent. Untouchable. A trophy arranged beside him like decoration.
Their marriage was planned.
Mine will be too.
I pity the girl already.
School is no different.
Teachers expect perfection. I deliver.
Class president. Valedictorian. Scholarships.
Students smile too much. They want my name, my money, my connections.
I feel nothing toward them.
Inside, something burns.
I have no friends. Only people waiting to take something from me.
Days pass.
Nothing changes.
But the dreams continue.
Every morning I wake up more exhausted. More afraid.
It feels like I go somewhere while I sleep.
Somewhere I can’t remember.
