Chapter 62– Hera

Chapter 62– Hera
"I do not understand," I start, looking really infuriated for a moment. “You can't move me from Novadale without my permission.”

"You're just a child–”

"I am an adult– one who can make her own decisions and you're certainly not my parents," I snap, unable to contain my annoyance anymore. “I am not going with you."

“Let me spell it out for you because I don't think you understand what is going on. One, you do not have a choice and two, you have only a week to pack your things and say goodbye to your friends. On Sunday I'll be here to get you,” Aunt Damaris says. "You can't keep living on your own here, unmonitored, unsupervised. Who even allowed it?”

"Ludovic, of course,” Uncle Barth chips in.

"Sounds like him." She says, her lips pursed in a grim line. Then she sits even straighter than she was before– if that is even possible. "Well I'll speak to the family attorney so that I can be legally recognised as Hera's new guardian. You know, for official purposes. I'll be managing her and all the assets in her name until she's not just old but mature enough to do so."

And everyone just watches her as she says this, nodding like it's not daylight robbery happening right under all our noses. But I blame myself. I should have known from the start that she just wanted control of my trust fund and inheritance.

“Dearest extended family members, I still have parents." I speak slowly, categorically because any faster and I might start swearing again. "They're only missing and soon enough they will be found. Not to mention, at school, Aunt Hilda is already recognized as my guard–"

“The faster you adapt to all of this the better for you,” Aunt Damaris tells me, interrupting. "You're leaving Novadale and that's final. Even if any delays were to arise, I should have relocated you there long before the burial is held–"

“What burial?" When no one speaks, I eye them all one by one. "I just asked who's funeral you're planning!”

"Your parents’. They've been missing for far too long. They're most probably dead, unidentified in some freak accident or some unfortunate shootout. We're trying to do the honourable thing by laying their souls to rest with a befitting funeral," Aunt Geena says as delicately as possible– I think that is what she is aiming for– yet she is the one I blow up the most at.

“You're not organising a burial for my parents."

“Hera."

“My parents are not dead!"

“See? I told you she was still in denial–”

“No one's organising a burial for my parents, period.” If I get more upset than this I might begin to bite people so I try to calm myself down. I'm doing breathing exercises when my gaze wanders to my grandfather. “Do you really think your son is dead?”

"Don't open old wounds,” the man replies gruffly. "Stay with your Aunt Damaris. It will make us all worry less.”

But I refuse to say anything, too angry to eat or breathe. I want to leave. But I don't know where I'd go that they won't come knocking, disturbing my peace.

It is at that moment that my phone blinks on with a text. From Czar.

‘Why do you look like you're enjoying yourself?’

Obviously he's being sarcastic. But just because I hate my relatives more doesn't mean I don't despise him now. I didn't ignore all his texts for the last week to fall for one just because it sounds like he cares.

So I ignore it.

I'm trying to focus on my food when I begin to hear my Aunt Damaris talk about the new school she has in mind for me. “I promise, Hera will have a fabulous time there. I'm very good friends with the owner so the woman will make sure she's very comfortable and unlike in this boondocks of a place, Hera will get more intellectual competition, preparing her well for her law degree.”

I drop my fork. "I am NOT doing law.”

"Don't be a pest,” Uncle Barth says. "We only want the best for you. What do you prefer, to be a writer? You want to die in penury?"

While no matter what happens I really can't die in penury given my background they don't seem to realize that it is not just about the money for me because that's all they care about. Finances. Not relationships or family or lasting connections with people. It's no wonder I'm antisocial.

“I personally can't have my niece doing any degree that does not hold prestige while she's under my roof so I think that is already sorted out," Aunt Hilda states, waving a hand like the very important point I raised earlier is the least of her worries– a meaningless fly buzzing near her.

At this point I can't take it anymore. Something within me is about to snap and it's been waiting too long.

Lone Wolf: You're upset. Is someone bothering you?

Is it all that obvious that I am about to fly off the handle? It must be if someone halfway across my yard can tell.

Miss Dangereuse: These people are my family.

Lone Wolf: But they're bothering you, aren't they?

Unbelievable. Yet I'm smiling a little as I shake my head.

Miss Dangereuse: And this is why you don't befriend psychos.