Taming the Master

Louise M. Jackson.

I entered my house and saw my mum standing in our small kitchen, preparing breakfast.

"Good morning mum." I greeted as I slid my headphones off my ears and down to my shoulders. I took off my worn-out sneakers and felt my toes sink into the soft carpet of our living room.

"Louise! I see you're back from your jog. Breakfast will be done in a minute, go freshen up." My mom replied while making some coffee for the pancakes she flipped.

I nodded, walking past the couch and toward the stairs but my eyes briefly fixated on some letters that were on the table.

EVICTION NOTICE!!

Each and every one of them read. I sighed and made my way to my room. As I entered, I scanned it like it was the first time I was in it. The walls were covered in pictures, from film to paper.

It's always been my dream to be a professional photographer for as long as I could remember. So I tried doing small jobs involving photography to help my mum with our costs and at the same time improve my skill.

We currently don't have a lot of money and you can say we're below the middle class.

Ever since my dad left us 5 years ago, we've been through hell and back trying to live in stability. My mum would always refuse my offer to take on multiple part-time jobs, saying she is the parent and will endure in her single job as an artist.

She works for a company called "The Fjord" and she assists them in auctioning paintings and other menial things. She keeps saying to have faith and be patient, but I'm quite stubborn, just as she implies.

That's why I began offering to take pictures of people during all sorts of occasions: weddings, burials, photo shoots, birthdays, and so on. I rarely get offers and don't get paid much because I'm an amateur.

They treat her like some sort of slave not an artist and her paintings deserve more credit, I'm not just saying that cause she's my mum. She's like a modern-day Leonardo Da Vinci.

Okay, maybe I am exaggerating a little.

Asides from that, she's good at what she does and I'm good at what I do. But it just isn't enough to pay the bills around here.

If only there was something more...

Oh well.

I dropped my phone on my bedside table and made my way to the bathroom, shrugging my clothes off and turning on the cold shower.

Think Lou, think!

I rested my head on the wall and sighed. I then finished cleaning up and wrapped my towel around my chest before moving to my mirror.

I sat by my vanity drawer, tugging at my red hair. I've always been a fan favorite of my red hair which I inherited from my dad. It was a striking shade and drew quite the attention in high school.

Paired with the blue eyes I acquired from my mom, I  was nicknamed Artemis, Siren, and many more I can't even remember.

Ah, the good old days. High school was a walk in the park for me. I never had super close friends I hung out with, but I had friends...I guess.

I blow-dried my hair and brushed it out, applying some cream to it and then I moved to my small closet to pick out my outfit for the day.

I picked up my phone and decided to scroll through social media as I looked through my clothes. I got on Twitter and scrolled for a bit until my eyes locked on an ad that I would've missed if I wasn't careful.

It was a vacancy for a job. It read:

In dire need of a young lady. I'm young!

Who can clean and take care of chores. I love chores!