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Mary Of The United States

Decent Essays
Mary sat at her desk, just like she always did. The desk’s varnish had been worn down to the raw wood, and it was covered in scratches made by her own clawing nails. Mary couldn’t remember when she had been locked in there, in the blanched room. The room was vacant except for the debased desk, a plastic chair, and a very shabby Mary.
Mary trembled due to the caffeine racing through her veins. Mary was always afraid. She was afraid of not being good enough. She was afraid of not meeting her parent’s expectations. Being less than Coeus, her brother. But, these were not ungrounded fears as they were based on truth. From the day Mary was born it was pounded into her tiny little brain that she was not as good as Coeus. She remembered her parent looking down on her for not getting grades as high as Coeus. No matter how she tried she was not good enough. Coeus’s existence was the reason she was locked in this room.
Mary’s earliest memories were of education in fact, these were her only memories. Her security blanket was a set of q-cards. Her pacifier, a dose of caffeine. Her story book, the McGraw-Hill math text book. When her parents looked down on Coeus with tenderness, and care she was subjected to looks of disgust, and loathing.
Mary heard the rap of knuckles on the metal door, it was a warning sign. Mary hunched back over her desk despite her chronic back pain, and resumed her exam. She ignored the clipped British tones from a woman who was her progenitor, “I have brought
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