I wanted it bad. I was starved for it. My parent's pride. There was nothing in this universe that I could ever want more than that. But whenever I left the house, all I got was pity. Pity for the puppy born with no eyes. Pity for the girl whose brother felt feelings he really shouldn't towards her. I remember Mom's stories about Dad's crime days. The only tragic thing about my "condition" is the inability to read people's emotions. Tone of voice is only one part, and that can be feigned easily. "Viola, I know how I'm going to do it!" I whispered to my sister while we lay side by side in our doggie bed. She didn't respond, so I assumed she was asleep. "I'm going to steal the Baker's Shard. I have it all planned out." I finally lay my head down and allowed sleep to consume me. Tomorrow, I would get what I craved in this universe more than anything. Pride.