TW: Sickness, death, depression, suicidal thoughs and mentions of cancer

Word count: 1363

 

 

On a warm spring eve of April, a young girl who would come to be named Elsa was born into the reputable family of the Smith’s. Her father was a highly-esteemed lawyer — one of the best in his field — while her mother was an ex-ballet dancer turned dance instructor.
The latter had grown up in the lower class, having had to fight her way through life and work hard for everything that she'd earned, whereas Elsa's father had been the very opposite, never having had to worry about money in his life. The pair had eventually met during one of the mother's performances, where she claimed Elsa's father had fallen head-over-heels in love with her at first sight; as most men had a tendency to do in those days.

A few years later and the mother finds out she is expecting. A catastrophe, really. Not only was the child conceived premaritally, which would look extremely bad in the eyes of the father's family, but this would also mean the end of the mother's flourishing career. Thus the two parents-to-be were left at fork in the road, debating day and night for weeks as to what to do. Elsa's father suggested abortion. Telling his wife that it would be better for the both of them and that they would be able to avoid embarrassment if they simply just got rid of the child. But the mother wasn't so sure. Like most mothers, she had already begun to feel some sort of connection to the growing person inside of her and to get rid of it so easily felt wrong. It felt cruel, and she couldn't do it. She would much rather give up her career and face forever with this man she would soon be calling husband, so long as she had this tiny being by her side.

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And so Elsa was born.

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The girl's childhood was fairly standard. Her father was a workaholic, barely ever being spotted at home aside from late nights and early mornings, and her mother was therefore left with the childcaring and maintenance of the lush city home. However, the woman soon found herself practically going crazy being locked inside all day, with a screaming child and little-to-no other human contact. So, around Elsa's 3-year mark, she decided to get back out onto the field. This is when she began to teach what she once had loved so much, all while Elsa was left at home, now with another woman she would come to know as 'Nana'. She wasn't all that bad, really — she was kind, and she treated her well. Even allowing her to have a bowl of ice cream for dinner on days where both parents were "running late". But she wasn't her mother, even if she felt like it at times.
To a 3-year-old, this didn't seem out of the ordinary, and soon enough she was off to school anyway. But as Elsa steadily grew, so did her feelings and thoughts, and she began to question whether or not she actually mattered. Whether or not she belonged. 

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At the tender age of 7, another disaster struck the family; and this time Elsa was there to experience it with them. Her  mother, once so happy and active, was now bedridden. 'Pancreatic cancer', the girl had heard being whispered around the otherwise empty rooms of the house and, not knowing what it was, the girl allowed her curiosity to get the better of her by turning to the internet for answers. What she found was not pleasant. 

At this point, Elsa still craved her mother's love. Still remembering glimpses and fragments of what she assumed was her mother embracing her as a much younger child — and so she became as if glued to her side in the present. Spending every waking moment by her bed, holding her hand, and keeping her warm. Telling her how much she loved her. 

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This became the new normal, and at certain points in the girl's life, things seemed to get better. A lot better. Until, at one point, it no longer was, and they once again returned to the bed to spend their time together. 

When Elsa turned 14, the woman took her final breath. Something that seemed to shake the entire world. Elsa's world. But the world didn't stop because of it.. even if Elsa thought it should have. It continued on as normal, not caring whether or not the most important person to ever exist had just... left. Elsa hated it.

As she continued to grow, she began to lash out more and more, always taking it a step further than she did the last time — whether it be by getting into fights or stealing, to smoking cigarettes and skipping school — not caring who she hurt along the way. She wanted them to hurt, just as she did. She wanted to world to burn beneath her feet. 

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The fact that she'd never had much of a relationship with her father didn't make it any better either. The pair rarely spoke, and the only time that they actually did was when Elsa was being pulled by the shirt and cursed at for misbehaving. Never a hug. Not even a pat on the shoulder. Just the occasional violence that never seemed out of place. The air was always cold between them, and the father knew it, too. Clearly he didn't know how to be a parent, nor did he care much for it either. To him, Elsa was just a hassle. A bump in the road that kept him from doing his work.

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So, as a half-hearted attempt to stop his daughter from staining the family name any further, the pair moved back to Boston, where Elsa would find herself becoming the shiny new toy of her grandparents. 

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It didn't take long before Elsa began being raised drastically different to what once was. Being held to a much higher standard than what she was used to. The Smith's, you see, were a family of a multi-million-dollar company and very much part of the so-called "socialite" scene. It wasn't the money that surprised the girl though — not at all — but instead it was the twisted morals of her new family that shocked her. She was now expected to act a certain way, mingle with the right people, and look down on those less fortunate. The latter which didn't sit right with the girl at all, as her mother had always reminded her to stay humble and help those she could. And so, she deemed these people cruel and unforgiving — the stark opposite of her mother — yet she didn't have the guts to defy them, because if she did, she knew her father would have her neck.

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"Your mother is gone now", the girl kept hearing day in and day out. "She can't save me anymore", she kept telling herself. It became her mantra, of sorts. Always reminding her that the woman she so dearly missed did, in fact, exist at one point in her life and wasn't just a ghost in her memories. Always keeping her grounded through the pain of said memories. It kept her sane. Somewhat. 

       As Elsa grew older, the pedestal of which she was expected to stand on only became so much more unreachable. She was expected to stay at the top of her classes at all times in order not to drag the family name through the mud, and thus developed anxiety and a panic disorder. Aged 17, the condition worsened, and a healthy dose of depression was added into the mix. She felt worthless each and every single time that she didn't perform well enough, and her grandmother made sure it all really stung, telling her it would "make her stronger in the end".

But would it, really? Would she live long enough to see herself grow strong? A part of her thought she wouldn't, and there had been plenty of times where that pill bottle of anti-depressants had looked so deliciously tempting. All it would take was one pill too much and she'd be sleeping soundly, after all.