[UNDERGOING COMPLETE REWRITING]
gilbert blythe is a dream come true. when faced with obstacles will he help you overcome them? or will these obstacles prevent you two from being with each other entirely?
TW: physical abuse is a major factor in this...
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"y/n!! wake up, lazy!!! "
my closed eyes squeezed shut even more than they already were, as if to beg unconsciousness to take me once more, for the peaceful sleep to return and for the chidings of my annoying little brother to cease.
alas, you can't always get what you want, especially when the universe is already biased against you. at least, that's what it felt like, after years of misfortune and things not going my way.
i guess i can't complain too much, for my status is significantly above the average family's, regarding prestige and wealth.
my father has his own law firm, and was renowned for his work across the vast united states.
we're also labelled as your standard "rich family" with the whole, typical countryside mansion, assortment of clothes, servants to clean for you, chefs to cook you food, everything you could have ever wanted and the luxury of not having to lift a finger.
seems like the ideal dream, right? happiness at the tip of your fingers.
what's a hundred dollars? pocket change.
okay, maybe not pocket change, nonetheless, my point still stands.
this is the widespread and stereotypical belief, which is why i never admit i'm unhappy. if i do, that just makes me seem ungrateful and conceited.
an abundance of families would simply die to be in my shoes, literally, my shoes, to live my life. and i would gladly give it to them, for they are more deserving of it than i am.
who am i to be able to have 'happiness' and money within my reach when there are people who need it way more? that revelation has never sat right well with me ever since the day i came to realize it.
so who am i to say "happiness can't buy money?" i can't say that, no matter how much i believe it to be true.
"y/nnnnnnnn !! if you don't wake up you're dumb!!"
my eyes shot open and i glared at the figure of my four year old brother violently jumping on my bed, and screaming his puny head off. it surprised me how his lungs are capable of producing sufficient air to scream with so much force for that damn long.
my hand shot out to shove him and he squealed, and jumped off.
"about time!" he huffed, and backed away from me apprehensively, fearing if i decide to murder him right then and there.
"how much do you value your life, tyler?" i asked in a solemn voice, my eyes boring into his, allowing my question and its implications to settle into his mind.
