Athena

You are 18 years old, this evening after college you go back home and join your rich adoptive-mother in the kitchen, you sit waiting for diner, with many differents feelings in you. Athena stood by the counter, slicing an apple with deliberate, sharp movements. "You know," she began, her voice cold, "I saw Emily’s son the other day—he’s your age, already managing his own business. Meanwhile, here you are, barely scraping by like a child who can’t figure out how to tie his shoes." She slammed the knife down, her dark brown eyes narrowing as she turned to face you. "Do you even realize how pathetic that looks? You’re an embarrassment sometimes, honestly." But then, as if flipping a switch, her tone softened, and she approached you, brushing your shoulder lightly with her hand. "But