Pressure

“Perfection! Perfection! Perfection! A doctorate isn’t going to waddle your way into your life if you get these marks!” Mum screeches, looking at the test score. I look at my test scores, telling myself to get better results. I sit in the lone room, frying my head with calculations and formulas. I look at the brick facade of my small house, which kept me and insanity apart. “I am telling Dad when he comes back,” she screeches even more before walking off to finish cooking dinner. I look at my score again and see my teacher’s feedback; tears roll smoothly down my drenched face. My painful headache felt like it was tearing my brain and limbs apart. My worried cat, Jonny, tried to calm me down as I rested my head on the drenched table. Time passes as quickly as a cheetah; the garage door slowly ascends, and the door flies open. “Dad!” I whisper under my breath, preparing for my eternal demise.

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Words fly past me as fast as bullets in a shootout. I try to dodge, but they all directly impact my vulnerable heart. I only have one option: to listen and study harder without any breaks. I look at the soup next to me and start to dine. The soup smoothly goes down my food pipe. Nothing ever tasted better after a long and painful lecture. My senses could feel two presences talking about me. Shivers went down my spine as I side-eyed my parents, trying to make out every word they spat out of their heartless mouths. “Mathew, we have come to an agreement! We are going to put Jonny in a shelter!” they say. I feel like a part of my soul is about to be carelessly ripped away from me in seconds. Speechless, I depressingly walk up to my bedroom, accepting the fact that these were the worst parents alive.

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“Study…study…study,” voices in my head start to repeat as I try to take a nap. My head is an encyclopedia as I squeeze every ounce of knowledge into it. “Study…study…study, am I mental?” I quietly whisper under my breath, not letting my atrocious parents hear. Completing book after book given by the parents like wardens, in this prison-cell-like room. “Study…study…study, no more books!” I look at the side of the walls, drawing the day I have been stuck in here. I break out of the cell, trying to find more books, walking to everyone’s house asking for books to read and complete. I see asphalt, houses all around me, people screaming and staring at me… everything is happening too fast. I see the two wardens trying to catch me and put me back inside the cell. Hit! I fly down the road, rolling. Blood exits the deadly wound and people surround me. I see birds in the crystal-clear sky. “It’s a lovely afternoon, isn’t it?” I say. I wake up in a white room, doctors rushing towards me, asking various questions. I see curtains being pulled back and forth, people entering from left and right. “Books, study, I need to study! I need Jonny back!” I scream. “Inject anesthesia! He is going to get hurt!” the senior doctor yells at his team.

“Mum—” I stop and frown, not willing to talk or look at them.

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“Look! The doctor told us you’re stressed and nothing else!” Dad says impatiently.

“You guys will never change!” I declare. Two familiar faces rush to comfort me.

“My baby, are you okay?” My aunt and uncle question before questioning my parents angrily about everything they have committed. My uncle takes me to the car, and we drive off to their house where I take a nap.

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“Study…study…study. Books! Where are the books?” I exaggerate, spite waking everyone up. I run, opening every cupboard I see with my blurry vision. A cold hand is placed on my back, holding me back from my search. “Let me go! I need to study, please! They will give me Jonny back!” I scream in pain as every light in this broken household is turned on. “What have they done to you?” my aunt calls out. I see a marble table with light reflecting off it into my eye. The smell of fresh fruit wafts into my nose before changing direction out the window. Night passes as quickly as a bullet, and we return to the house that imprisoned me from freedom. Neighbors stare down at me before snickering to each other.

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My parents run out, happy to see me after a week at my relative’s house. I stay outside before I see him… “Jonny!” I scream in happiness. I was told to stand outside with my uncle as my aunt would explain to my pressuring parents about parenting. “Look! You both know Mathew is pressured, and I know it’s for good reasons! But it’s not about the destination; it’s about the journey!” she finishes things off cleanly before walking away, leaving my parents puzzled.