Mastery

History

Rory

I heard my uncle coming upstairs and i pulled the sheets over my head. I wasn't in the mood for him and his voice today. After a long time I had a bad dream again and i couldn't fall back asleep so i just lay there stirring for a few hours until my mind finally shut the hell up... 6 minutes before my alarm.

He came into my room and tried pulling the sheets away.

"Rory, hey wake up!" 

I grunted in response.

"Normal kids are in class right now and you haven't even had breakfast. Your aunt left some pancakes downstairs"

I just lay there silently. Maybe if i stayed quiet he would too.

"I'm off to the shop, i'll be back in an hour. Make sure you're ready for today's class"

He sighed and I heard his footsteps leave my room but I didn't move. After i heard the door downstairs slam shut and his truck pull away I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. Last night's dream replayed in my head.

I was running through darkness. I don't know where to or what from. But i stumbled and fell forward and before i could get back up, my hands started sinking into the floor. I tried to pull them back out and screamed for help but nothing happened. I pulled as hard as i could and felt both my shoulders dislocate. 

The pain woke me up. My pillow was drenched in either tears or sweat and all i could hear was my own loud panting. My hands still felt heavy and i just cried. Because of the pain i felt in my dream and because the only worse nightmare would be not ever painting again.

I got up and opened a window. I really strongly disliked mornings. The sky was clear outside and a few birds tried to cheer me up but failed. I grabbed a pair of sweatpants off my couch and headed downstairs. On the table was the plate of pancakes my uncle promised on a stack of books. Today's assignments. I grabbed syrup out of the fridge, poured some orange juice and headed back upstairs balancing the books, plate and glass.

I went into my atelier which would probably have been my sibling's room if I had one. Lucky for me, this was now my safe haven: the room i could express everything and anything i think and feel. I put on some music and sat on the carpeted part of the floor. My atelier had big windows on both sides and on the walls between them were colorful paintings I had done over the years. Crayons marked the wall just above the floor from before I could walk and light blue and purple clouds lined the walls just below the ceiling from when i could finally reach. I didn't have curtains because i loved the amazing natural light falling in through the windows which i thought added something special to my paintings.

I grabbed the first book off the pile: today's subject was History. My not so favorite. I opened the book and started studying the first paragraph while i chewed down my pancakes.

 I was home-schooled for some unknown reason but i didn't mind it so I never questioned it. I loved being alone and rather spent my day painting and reading than sitting in a classroom full of societal pressure and stigmas. I could study as much as i wanted at my own pace and even though my will to do so has decreased with age, I could bet that I was further and smarter than my grade. 

I was taking a shower when i heard my uncle's heavy footsteps come through the front door. I pretended I had just gotten in and let the water run over my back for another twenty minutes. When I finally got out, I put on some clean pants and a shirt and walked into the kitchen while rubbing a towel over my hair. My uncle sat in his chair reading the paper. His beard was starting to grey even though his small black eyes gave him a youthful and taunting appearance. 

"Rough night?" he asked when i fell into the sofa in front of him. 

"You could say that"

"You haven't had one of those in a while right?"

He knew I had had a nightmare

"I probably had one Red Bull too much yesterday" I laughed, shaking it off. I didn't want to talk about it. My uncle got the vibe and I he leaned forward to change the subject. Literally. 

"Are you ready?"

I nodded and sat across from him on the table.

"Who was Ferdinand Magellan?"

He was starting off easy.
I stared at him tauntingly and he returned the same look.