White Eyes

It just kept looking at me. It wasn’t showing any signs of assessing me to attack or of running away. I started to wonder if it was genuinely real or just a figment of my imagination. Wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe it was dead. In no reality is a grey wolf with white eyes real.

I was lost in thought for a second wondering if there were any wolves in Maine after they were extirpated by the 1890s, when I heard rustling of leaves northeast of the tree, I was dangling on similar to a sloth. I looked back to where the fox was in the middle of a small clearing, in front of my lounging position, and it seemed to have dematerialized.

I stayed in my little tree till sundown, so about an hour more, and headed back home. My home was a mansion and that’s downplaying it. My parents both run their own successful businesses and liked to live in a secluded area, so we were a few miles away from town, really inconvenient since my school bus has to pick me up an hour early. My parents had suggested I be homeschooled but I had been a whinny brat and had “dug my own grave” or so they put it. You have no idea how much it physically pains me to admit they were right.

I move softly and briskly, effectively avoiding both my parent’s offices but that wasn’t the hard part. To truly be triumphant I had to pass unnoticed by Mrs. Pierre. She constantly just shows up out the shadows without a single sound heard. Sometimes I wonder if she’s a demon conjured by my parents. We are significantly rich but that doesn’t stop them from being cheap bastards where they can, so it’s entirely possible they summoned her from the depths of hell to do their bidding, which is, dully, house chores in this case.

I reached my room door and released a small sigh feeling accomplished but then it dawned upon me that this is where the hero think’s he’s home free but ‘boom’, ends up in a trap. I took out my phone and checked the live footage of my room. She was in the room. “I knew it” I said under my breath.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the door to look at her never changing look of disappointment, the one I hated, the one all her employees hated as I can imagine.

“I told you not to go wandering the woods. What if some wild animal follows you into here.”

“You said to not go wandering the woods at night, the sun it yet to set, mother.”

“If I catch you one more time, I will put an electric fence around the mansion.” My mother said in all her coldness and left.

I stood there for a minute or so, trying my hardest to keep my walls standing tall and unwavering. Refusing to let her get to me. Refusing to let her have that power over me. I will not be weak. My breathing calmed as well as my heart’s thumping. I released my bloodied fists and went to the bathroom to wash up.

Every so often I wonder if my mother is sociopathic or I’ve heard narcissistic personality disorder is similar. My favorite theory is that she’s a Yeti, aka an abominable snowman or snowwomen, her hair is so blonde it’s almost platinum (though I believe she dyes it) and it matches the yeti’s. There’s no other explanation for her coldness. Or perhaps she just hates me. The past 15 years have all been different. When I was younger, she used to be physically violent, then later when I was about 10, she started having anger episodes for a while, now its just this constant disapproval and neglect. But isn’t this quite normal? I’ve seen a few of my “friends” nag about their parents. I guess there is some comfort in the thought that everyone has to go through it and not just me.

I got out of the shower, dressed and sat on my bed staring at the wall while blasting metal in the background. I don’t know how much time had passed when I heard a knock on the door.

“What now!” I screamed. I opened the door to see my tall dark-haired father standing there awkwardly.

“Now now it’s just me no need to get so irritable.” He spoke.

“Sorry dad. What’s up?” I said while turning the music down.

“Well, I just came to-” He started when I cut in, “You’re leaving again, aren’t you? “

“I’m sorry honey, its urgent” he said though I could not detect any guilt in his voice. Every time he came to tell me he’s leaving it felt like a broken record player repeating the same thing over and over again with absolutely no meaning to it.

“I left you my black credit card as always so don’t be shy to use it for anything you need. Oh, and don’t trouble your mom like usual, she’s under a lot of stress because of the merger. I’ll let you get some sleep now. Goodnight Honey.” He said and left without any gratuitous concern for me, which is customary I'd say.

I wish my dad cared for me like he did of mother.