Ginny Miller sat in her room, the low hum of music from her laptop filling the silence as she stared at the blank Word document on her screen. It was late—too late to be thinking about school or responsibilities—but her mind refused to quiet down. She'd tried writing, journaling, listening to music—anything to shake off the gnawing feeling of loneliness that had been creeping up on her all night.
The lyrics from Taylor Swift's "You're On Your Own, Kid" played softly in the background, the words hitting her in a way that made her stomach twist: "I didn't choose this town, I dream of getting out…" Ginny had felt that exact sentiment so many times before, like she was trapped in Wellsbury, stuck between the expectations of everyone around her and the reality of who she actually was. It wasn't that Wellsbury was all bad, but it wasn't where she saw herself. And lately, it felt like her whole life was a balancing act—trying to be the perfect daughter, friend, and student while carrying the weight of her own insecurities and secrets.
Her phone buzzed beside her, breaking the silence. It was a text from Marcus, short and sweet, the way his messages usually were.
Marcus: You okay? Haven't heard from you today.
Ginny smiled faintly. Marcus always seemed to know when something was up, even when she hadn't said anything.
Ginny: Yeah, just a lot on my mind.
A few seconds later, her phone buzzed again.
Marcus: Want to talk about it?
Ginny hesitated, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. Part of her wanted to tell him everything—about how lost she felt, how she didn't know who she was supposed to be, how everything felt like too much lately. But the other part of her—the part that was used to bottling things up—stopped her.
Ginny: Not really. But thanks.
She set her phone down, feeling a wave of exhaustion hit her. The truth was, as much as Marcus wanted to help, he couldn't fix what was really bothering her. Only one person could, and that person was Georgia.
Georgia Randolph—her mother, the woman who always seemed to have everything under control, the person Ginny loved more than anyone in the world but also didn't trust. How could she, after all the lies, the half-truths, and the constant feeling that Georgia was always hiding something?
The sound of footsteps in the hallway made Ginny tense. Speak of the devil. Georgia was home.
A few minutes later, there was a soft knock at Ginny's door, and Georgia poked her head inside. "Hey, G, you up?"
Ginny sighed, closing her laptop. "Barely."
Georgia walked into the room, holding a glass of wine in one hand, her other hand absentmindedly playing with her necklace. She looked perfect, as always—her hair in soft waves, her makeup still flawless despite the late hour. But there was something about her eyes that made Ginny pause. Georgia looked tired, worn down in a way that was rare for her.
"Can't sleep either?" Georgia asked, sitting down at the edge of Ginny's bed.
Ginny shook her head. "Nope. Just thinking too much."
Georgia smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah, I get that."
There was a heavy silence between them, and Ginny could feel the weight of everything that had been left unsaid. They had been through so much—fights, secrets, and moments of betrayal that had left scars on their relationship. But despite everything, Ginny still craved her mother's approval, still wanted to understand her.
"What's on your mind?" Georgia asked, her voice soft.
Ginny hesitated. "I don't know. Everything, I guess. Life, school… you."
Georgia raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a half-smile. "Me? What'd I do this time?"
Ginny laughed, but it was hollow. "It's not just one thing, Mom. It's everything. I feel like you're always keeping things from me. Like I'm never going to know the full story with you."
Georgia's smile faded, and she set her wine glass down on the nightstand. "Ginny, I know I haven't been perfect—far from it. But everything I've done, I've done for you. You have to believe that."
Ginny looked away, her throat tightening. She wanted to believe her mom. She really did. But after everything that had come out—Georgia's past, the lies, the way she always seemed to be one step ahead of everyone else—it was hard to trust her fully.
"I don't know if I can, though," Ginny said quietly. "You always say that, but then something else comes out, and I feel like I'm right back where I started. I'm your daughter, but half the time, I feel like I don't even know you."
Georgia's face softened, and for a moment, she looked almost… vulnerable. "Ginny, I'm not hiding things because I don't want you to know me. I'm hiding them because I'm trying to protect you. There's a lot you don't understand—about me, about my past. And I've made some terrible choices. But those choices were always about survival. And keeping you safe."
Ginny bit her lip, trying to hold back the frustration that was bubbling up inside her. "But don't you see how that makes me feel? Like I'm some problem you have to fix, like I'm a part of this world that you're trying to keep hidden. I don't want to be protected, Mom. I just want the truth."
Georgia sighed, running a hand through her hair. "The truth isn't always pretty, Ginny. And sometimes, it's not something you need to carry."
Ginny felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away. "Maybe. But I'm not a little kid anymore. I can handle it. I just… I don't want to feel like I'm on my own."
Georgia looked at her daughter for a long moment, and for the first time in a while, Ginny saw something raw in her mother's eyes—something like regret.
"You're not on your own," Georgia said softly. "You never have been. I'm always going to be here for you, even if it doesn't feel like it."
The words were comforting, but they didn't erase the pain that had been building up inside Ginny for years. She loved her mom, but she also resented her for the way she handled things—for the way she always seemed to be three steps ahead, never letting anyone in. It was like Georgia was always playing a game, and Ginny was just another piece on the board.
The lyrics from "You're On Your Own, Kid" played in the back of her mind: "Everything you lose is a step you take." Ginny had lost so much in her relationship with her mom—trust, innocence, the belief that Georgia could always fix things. But maybe, just maybe, losing those things was a part of growing up.
Ginny took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the conversation settling over her. "I just wish things were different sometimes. That I could trust you the way I used to."
Georgia reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind Ginny's ear. "I know. And I wish I could give you that. But the best I can do is try to be better. For you. For us."
Ginny nodded, though she wasn't sure if it was enough. But it was something. And for now, maybe that had to be enough.
The next morning, Ginny woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside her window. The sun was peeking through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. She sat up slowly, the weight of last night's conversation still lingering in the back of her mind.
She could hear Georgia moving around in the kitchen, probably making coffee or scrolling through her phone. It was their usual routine—wake up, pretend everything was fine, move on like the previous night's heart-to-heart hadn't happened.
But Ginny didn't want to pretend anymore. She didn't want to keep moving through life feeling like she was always on the outside, looking in.
She got out of bed, pulling on a hoodie and making her way to the kitchen. Georgia was there, just as she expected, standing by the counter with a cup of coffee in her hand, staring out the window. She looked peaceful, but Ginny knew better. There was always something going on behind her mother's calm exterior.
"Morning," Ginny said, grabbing a cup of coffee for herself.
Georgia turned, smiling. "Morning, G. How'd you sleep?"
Ginny shrugged, sipping her coffee. "Okay. Still thinking about last night."
Georgia's smile faltered slightly, but she didn't seem surprised. "Yeah. Me too."
They stood in silence for a few moments, the tension from last night hanging in the air between them. But this time, it didn't feel as heavy. It felt more like the beginning of something—maybe not a solution, but at least a step in the right direction.
"I'm sorry," Georgia said quietly, setting her coffee down. "For everything. For not being the mom you needed me to be."
Ginny looked at her mom, her heart aching. She wanted to say something—anything—that would make this easier, but the truth was, it wasn't going to be easy. Not for either of them.
"I don't need you to be perfect," Ginny said softly. "I just need you to be honest with me. That's all."
Georgia nodded, her eyes glistening. "I'll try, Ginny. I really will."
Ginny smiled, a small, tentative smile. It wasn't much, but it was something. And for now, that had to be enough.
As they stood there in the kitchen, the world outside moving on like it always did, Ginny realized that maybe she wasn't as alone as she thought. Maybe, despite everything, she and Georgia could figure this out. Together.
Or at least, they could try.
"You're on your own, kid… You always have been."
