Main Story: This girl Roxanne is a telepath and nobody knows and she lives with her mother in a huge mansion.
Years of love have been forgot, in the hatred of a minute.
-Edgar Allan Poe
I settled in front of the dining room table and I envisioned myself sitting there alone. As usual of course. Stupid head of mine ruins everything. Instead of sitting down like normal, I walked to the front room and sat before the fire. The high ceilings were drafty and there's not much furniture in the house. It always felt empty and quiet even though everything was still loud and booming in my ears. No not ears, brain. I could hear their angry thoughts from the first story of our huge house. Always so loud those adults. It’s like they want everyone to know their thoughts. Something shifted in the air and I didn’t have to look but I could sense my mother looking at me from the high balcony.
“She’s just sitting there doing nothing. Letting her dinner get cold. What an peculiar child.” I didn’t even need to tilt my head in her direction to hear her. I just could. My mother cleared her throat and uttered,
“Roxanne, what are you doing? Your food will get cold.” Her tone had the same frosty edge as the air
“I’m not hungry.” I muttered under my breath. I turned to look at my mother and saw that her face had twisted in frustration. She captured me in her gaze and pointed in the direction of the kitchen. I didn’t have to read her thoughts to know what she meant. I got up in a huff and stormed towards the kitchen. I blocked out her offensive thoughts as I sat down at the dinner table. So controlling, so demanding. Always ‘Do this Roxanne, or do That Roxanne’. And now I have the uncontrollable urge to break something. I quickly shove whatever that mush my mom made for dinner was into my mouth and swallowed. Be safe and never eat while walking you could choke. As soon as I choked the food down (ironic, I know) I pushed my chair out of the way and rushed up the stairs in a silent stampede. I went quickly down the hallway into my fathers office, and looked around. I scanned for something good to smash, something so valuable it would hurt to break. My eyes locked on a crystal vase. I slowly tip-toed my way over to it and rested my hands of it's smooth, yet bumpy surface. I raised it above my head, and launched it towards the hardwood floor of my fathers office.
I felt a giggle rising up in my chest and before I knew it I was on the floor in a hissy fit, laughing like a dying goose. I could hear my mother’s troubled thoughts getting closer so I pulled myself under the desk and covered my mouth in an attempt to stop the laughter. The desk was low enough that I could squeeze through and my mother wouldn’t see me. I watched as her feet came in and switched to her point of view from her mind.
“Oh my goodness! What has this child done! She will need to go back to her room until she confesses and apologizes.” I rolled my eyes and stopped listening to her thoughts and watched from my point of view again. I watched her bend down and look under the desk. I knew she knew I was there. We did this a lot. My father’s study was to remain untouched until he returned home from his trip. His very long trip. No he is not deceased if that’s what you are thinking. He is actually away on a trip and has been for the last couple of years. Anyway, she grabbed my hand and slid me out from underneath the desk (Which was far away from the broken glass in case you were wondering).