Tongue-Tied (Open)

[Kore Deiman]

For a student enrolled in the Academy, parental guidance was sorely lacking. Parents often completely removed themselves from the lives of children they have shipped off to be raised elsewhere, feeling that they had done their duty in admitting a weakness of ability and assuaging the problem by handing it over to someone else. It was supposed to be a smart decision, a decision that would benefit the child in the end. It was the child that mattered, after all. When mail day rolled around every week, students were not usually excited to find mail from their mother and father, and for children that had neither, it was even worse. It wasn't a lack of excitement that plagued them, which made the parent-child tension of other students seem almost petty. All they had to worry about was how best to display their annoyance at finding a letter marked "From Mom and Dad," which was a rite of passage itself. The students without parents were left out of that ritual altogether, and on top of that, were even looked down on pitifully when the mail came in. As Kore Deiman  patted the back of his friend Meredith Merryweather, who held no mail in her hands, he stared at the black-ribboned red box clutched in his own. How he wished this burden upon Meredith. Kore punished himself internally for such an awful thought. Meredith did not deserve to come from the Deiman line. Not because she wasn't good enough or couldn't appreciate the luxuries such a life afforded its lineage, but because being a Deiman meant more than affluence and ease. Have them for a day! he thought, cruelly, as he stared at her prone figure curled up on her bed. Every week, the same sight. She was a weak soul, which was not an insult to her character in the least. He only meant to say, to his own vindictive conscience, that she would not wish for parents were her only option Mr. and Mrs. Deiman. They were awful, and not in the heavily cliched teenage awful. Terrible people in a world of terrible people, expect they didn't hide their terrible like everyone else. They flaunted it like a trophy and bore the gifts it had left them with pride. A magnificent estate and renown based on fear and a child that had been the center of gossip for months. It was something Kore was not proud to admit, that he had allowed his parents to benefit from his escape attempt. But of course they would profit from something meant to harm them. People would silently confirm their evils, when their own child were to run from them, but what then? What did that accomplish? To run from an entity you hate and see them soar on the wings of your flight... Ridiculous. And ultimately, it did nothing. His parents were not even made to publicly show their remorse. They had no public to placate. They covered the tracks of their son's rebellion and let just enough news seep through the cracks to remind everyone just how little they cared and how little it mattered. So the weakest Deiman doesn't approve of his family's long line of corrupt gain... What could be done about it?  Kore pulled the end of the black ribbon that sealed his latest gift. His parents had sent him a bin's worth of trinkets and knick-knacks that they knew he had no interest in. They were nothing more than reminders that he would be remembered and watched after, in a way that was caring and mindful without compassion. Keeping track of Kore was definitely something they cared about, ever since discovering his connection to a Guadelle reporter looking to crack the Deiman corruption story wide open. The box was mocking. Whatever it contained was insignificant. At least, that was the way things had been until today. When he lifted the lid of the box and peered at its contents, Kore felt his heart sink and his vision tunnel for just a few short moments. He wanted to shriek at the pink, fleshy mound of tongue lying at the bottom, but he knew that the scene it would create could only hurt. He considered showing it to someone, taking it to the faculty, using it as part of his case against his parents. But no, that was the intention. This was a carrot dangling in front of rabbit while a hawk soared overhead, waiting to make its move. His parents were masters of spinning situations in their favor, even fabricating scandals to disprove themselves in an extravagant method of padding reputation. Kore placed the lid on the box and shoved it underneath his bed, his expression tense but still and his hands securely clasped to mask their shaking. Unable to speak, Kore left his room and leaned against the wooden frame with a shaky sigh. Having parents sucked.

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