Subject: [OTL]: Try Harder by kaleko Date: Tue, 15 Dec 1998 16:51:43 EST From: "Junkie SugarPixie" Try Harder By kaleko Disclaimer: All characters are property of Marvel Comics, I'm using them without permission, making no money, blah-zay,blah-zay... All comments can be directed to nyt26@hotmail.com Please contact me before you put it anywhere. I accept and welcome creative criticism by all means but I do not accept or appreciate flames. Summary: A woman thinks on her life and the hardships she went through to become what she is. *** They promised me. They promised me I would get help. That everything would be alright. That I'd be okay, that I'd be safe. That I'd be taken care of... and that before I knew it, I'd be home. Sure. Home. Like the word would have meant anything to me. Being home meant being with mommy. Her and all her lectures of not being good enough, not trying hard enough. She acted like I didn't spend all my time on schoolwork, on trying as hard as I could on that piano. She wouldn't accept the fact that her little girl was slow. Not defected. Just slow. It was too hard for her to comprehend. "She's never going to be normal, Whitney. You have to realize that." "No. No, there's nothing wrong with her. She's just fine. She'll grow up smart. Smarter than all the other kids, you watch and see, David.She'll be smart. She'll learn." "She can't learn, Whit. Let her be, she tries." "She has to try harder. She won't get anywhere if you keep babying her. She's got to try harder." And she made sure of that. That I tried harder and harder everyday. It never helped. Lady Whitney's daughter was too stupid to learn. What a pity. "She's got to go, David. We'll have more luck with her sister. She'll never learn. She'll always be stupid. Do you hear me, girl? You're stupid, and that's the way you'll always be!" "There's no need to yell at her like that, Whitney." "Is it my fault she's a stupid child?" "Whitney, stop it!" "She's stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid, and that's all she'll ever be!" I sat and cried as mother kicked me on the way out of the room. "Get her out of my sight, David! I want her out of this house by tomorrow evening!" He apologized. He apologized the whole way. He promised that as soon as he talked to her everything would be okay. That'd I'd be back home again. The lady said I'd be fine there. That I would get over it and they could cure me. Sure, they cured me. I was scared to death as it was. I thought He'd come to help me. To take me back to daddy, away from where mommy could hurt me. That's what He said. That's what I thought. So I trusted Him. I told Him everything He wanted to know. I told Him of my younger sibling, who everyone adored. Everyone except daddy, who said she was a "child of fornication". I didn't know what that was, I'd told Him. He said one day he'd show me. I didn't scream when He kissed me. I should have. Mommy had told me if I ever kissed someone God would burn me in hell. So naive I was to believe it was true. But, yet, I didn't scream. I let Him kiss me in other places, places that I was told were unholy. That if I ever touched them I would burn in hell. But yet I didn't scream. I didn't scream when He took my hand and told me what to do. I screamed when He cut me because I didn't. I screamed when he threw me to the floor and placed a pillow over my face. I could barely breath while He touched me and made me touch every filthy part of His body. When it was all over He apologized. Like daddy had before he'd left me there. But every night was the same. Every touch meant torture, as I slipped further and further away from the thought of ever getting free. The voices became more abundant, the screaming got louder, the freedom became smaller and smaller. Until one night-- I fought Him. I fought Him, so scared and tired of being touched and grabbed and taken advantage of. But as I painfully found out, He was stronger. And I was stupid. Just like she said I was. One night He didn't come. I thought I was safe. That maybe I would be alright that night. My nightmares kept me company, though. Just like He said they would. I could hear His voice echoing in my ears... "You'll never be alone, honey. Don't you worry, I'd never leave you alone." I cried myself to sleep that night, only to find He came later, more vicious than He'd ever been. I screamed as He dragged me from underneath the bed, wishing that I was in that fiery pergatory mommy had always warned me about. ~I don't want to be hurt, leave me alone! You hurt me, please!~ It was quiet suddenly, except for my screaming. I stopped. He had left me alone. I peered out from under the bed cautiously. Had He really stopped? He grabbed me suddenly and yanked me out, slamming my head against the floor. ~Take me out of here...~, I cried inside my mind. He suddenly picked me up and carried me out of the room.He killed everything in our path, until I was finally outside. I took a match from his pocket, and, ordering him back inside, lit him and the furniture on fire. He would die in a fiery grave-- literally, if not anything else. I learned that if I thought hard enough, people would do whatever I told them to. I could get inside people's minds. I would go to schools and read the administration's minds. I would be as smart as everyone else-- if not smarter. I returned home. How surprised daddy was to see his little girl was "released" and smart as a whip. Mommy was overjoyed. I was suddenly her daughter again. I'll never forget the look on her face when I locked the doors to her beautiful Cadillac, with her still in it, and threw a burning board underneath the hood. I backed away as the car blew up, nothing left but the black frame. No one ever knew I did it. Not even daddy. He pretended to weep for her, but I knew what he really felt. Happy. Relieved. He was free. He stopped caring for me. My darling younger sister took up all his time. She looked just like mommy is the reason he loved her so. And when he found out how I'd tried to suffocate her, he threw me out. Like throwing out a dog. He forgot that sometimes dogs bite. Our poor cook, Mrs.Hennigan, had just enough time to get out before the burning roof collapsed onto the rest of what was our house. She had taken my sister with her. "You're what they call a pyromaniac. Do you know what that is?" "You're what they call a transexual. Does the board of directors know what that is?" The doctors amused me. Before long I was out on the street, defending myself, getting secrets from the big investors, learning what I could on playing the stock market. I began my company. And before my eighteenth birthday, I had a small fortune. I was a child prodigy, everyone said. I soon found my place in the Hellfire Club, deemed one of the most intelligent and cunning women in society. I used my gift for personal gain. And it never bothered me as to so much consider what it might cost others. "To make it big you have to play it hard," I kept telling myself. I told myself. But I didn't tell them. I let them slack. I didn't push them far enough. I knew what it was like to be told you weren't trying hard enough. I knew what it was like to give it your all and not be appreciated. And in the end, I lost them because of it. Because I wasn't hard enough on them, because I didn't make them try harder. Even today I know what I did wrong, and why I did it. She hides what she can do. She doesn't stand up to her full potential. And I know she doesn't. And I pick on her for it. She doesn't know why I do. Maybe someday she'll understand. Understand the hardships you can go through for not trying hard enough. In my case, I tried. I tried as hard as I could but I couldn't learn. But she can learn. She's capable of it. She just needs the motivation. And I know she can do it. She could be just as smart as everyone else, if not smarter. "Jubilee?" "What's up, Frosty?" "I want an A from you on this test." She'll learn. I know she can. FINIS