A/N:
If you're going to ask me a question in the reviews section, please use an account so I can respond.
This story is using Third Person Limited, which is why the narrator is "demanding" things. Nobody has a "mental illness", the narrator is simply describing their thoughts. Third person limited is like an over the shoulder experience limited to a specific character.
Stella is in my story because she's Octavia's parent. There's nothing wrong with having selfish characters in stories, as stories are made better with friction and conflict. You're not meant to like her, she's supposed to be antagonistic. If that's something that turns you away, know that there will be additional mean antagonists.
No, Mr. Maxson is not the literal reincarnation of Hitler. That was hyperbole to describe him as a strict and cruel teacher.
Please do not spam, thank you.
CHAPTER THREE: RUDE AWAKENINGS
"Octavia Goetia! Wake up this instant!" Stella's shrill voice pierced through Octavia's bedroom door. She groaned, hoping yesterday was just a terrible dream as she buried her face in his her pillow.
"Young lady, you've slept long enough. It's time to get up!" Stella shouted, forcefully opening Octavia's door.
Octavia groaned again, dragging herself into a sitting position. She had spent the entire night tossing and turning, unable to find any rest. She wanted to be angry with her parents, but fatigue had drained her of any energy to feel anything except misery.
Glancing at her alarm clock, Octavia saw that it was 8:15 AM. "Mum, I still have another thirty minutes..." she grumbled groggily, attempting to settle back into her bed and pull the blankets over herself.
"No, you don't have thirty minutes," Stella retorted before swiftly yanking the blankets off Octavia, exposing her to the chilly air of her room. Octavia whined and reluctantly sat on the edge of her bed. She still couldn't believe this was happening. She was waiting for her parents to burst into laughter and reveal it was all just a sick joke.
"You need time to apply your makeup. I wanted to wake you an hour ago, but your father insisted on letting you rest," Stella explained, rolling her eyes.
Octavia looked up at her mother in annoyance. "It's fucking summer camp. You really think I need makeup, Mum?" she asked, bemused.
Stella glanced at the dark bags under Octavia's eyes and her unkempt hair. "Yes," she replied, grimacing. She dropped a fancy purse into Octavia's lap. Inside were several containers of cosmetics, makeup brushes, and even spare eyelash extensions.
"I understand that you may not encounter anyone of societal significance at a summer camp," Stella said, crossing her arms. "But that doesn't mean you can slack off. A true princess should dazzle commoners with her beauty."
Stella headed towards the door with a heavy sigh. "Remember: while you're away, you represent the Goetian matriarchy. I expect you to have made good use of at least half of your cosmetic supplies upon your return," she said sternly, giving Octavia a meaningful look. "And don't you dare leave this room until you look presentable. I love you, daughter," she added dismissively as she left.
Octavia sighed, resting her face in her hands. She felt like crying, like mourning the loss of her summer before it even began.
"Oh, also," Stella poked her head back into Octavia's room, tossing a shirt into her lap. "Stolas wants you to wear this. Apologies."
Octavia held the shirt up, her face scrunching up in disgust. It was the same shirt her father had shown her earlier, depicting a pine tree with a big, happy smile. She had likely blocked the memory out of her mind because of how stupid the shirt looked.
She reached over to her bedside table, looking to grab her phone before starting her day. However, her phone was missing. Confusion creased her brow. She was sure she had left it there before going to bed.
"Great. I guess I have thirty minutes to find it," she muttered, pulling the T-shirt over her before grabbing the cosmetics case and heading to the bathroom.
Once she finished making herself presentable, she grabbed her beanie and suitcase and sluggishly made her way downstairs, heading toward the dining room.
"Good morning, my little Owlette!" Stolas cooed as Octavia made a beeline for the living room door. She opened each drawer, finding nothing but writing supplies - parchments, quills, and ink bottles.
"Dad?" Octavia turned slowly to face Stolas. "Where's my phone?"
Stolas stood by the fridge, appearing to ponder his words before turning to face her. He took a deep breath and sighed. "Your mother and I thought it would be best if you left your phone at home," he said.
Octavia's jaw dropped slightly. If she weren't so exhausted, she would have screamed at him even louder than her mother after a few too many glasses of wine.
"Dad, please. You're already ruining my entire fucking summer," she pleaded, her voice strained from only two hours of sleep.
Mum scoffed from behind her. "Do you need to be glued to that screen constantly? We're sending you to socialize, not to fucking sulk in a dark room," Stella remarked, dabbing powdered blush on her cheeks as she gazed into a mirror.
"Language! Both of you," Stolas whined, then turned to Octavia with a pleading expression. "Via, you know how much I love you. We're not doing this to hurt you; we just want you to, well, eh..."
Stella snapped her makeup kit shut, giving a disapproving hum. "What your father is trying to say is that he doesn't want you to end up like him, a lonely, pathetic wreck," she said, scowling at Stolas.
Stolas' soft expression quickly morphed into annoyance with an audible sigh. "What I'm trying to say, Stella, is that I want her to surpass both of us," he growled, pinching the bridge of his beak.
Octavia began to tune out her parents' ritualistic morning argument. She had more pressing concerns. Two months without her phone was a death sentence. What the fuck was she supposed to do all day without it?
No, she couldn't leave without it. She needed it like she needed her two legs.
Octavia knew where Stolas used to hide her phone when she was younger... his bedroom. She needed to distract Mum and Dad long enough to sneak up unnoticed.
"Octavia!" Stella yelled, snapping her out of her thoughts. Stella slammed one hand on the table and pointed at Stolas. "Tell your father I DO care about your future!"
Stolas recoiled, grunting indignantly as he raised his hand in protest. "Wha- Don't use my own daughter against me!" he shouted.
The perfect opportunity presented itself. As Stella was about to continue her tirade, Octavia interjected. "No, no, Dad, I know you guys argue a lot, but... Mum does care about me, kinda," Octavia said, causing Stolas to raise an eyebrow and Stella to give him a wicked, smug grin.
Octavia reached down and placed her makeup kit on the table. "She even gave me this little makeup bag. She said I have to use at least half of it before I come back, or else I guess I'll be in trouble."
Stolas flared up at that, just as Octavia had expected. His eyes widened as he looked at Stella incredulously. "Stella! She's going there to have fun and make friends!" he scolded. He turned to Octavia and gently placed his hand over hers. "Via, you don't have to do anything you don't want to while you're away."
"Don't listen to your father, Octavia!" Stella pleaded, glaring at Stolas. "What do you think you're doing, you oaf? I agreed to allow her to wear that ridiculous shirt, and you agreed that she shall maintain basic beauty standards!"
"I did NOT agree to that!" Stolas retorted, pulling his hand away from Octavia. "I agreed she can bring makeup if she WANTS to. Our daughter is going to summer camp, not a royal banquet!"
Stella stood over Stolas, her gaze filled with contempt. "I won't allow our daughter to tarnish my name by neglecting her basic beauty standards!" Stella said, her voice dripping with fiery scorn.
"And there it is!" Stolas chuckled, rising from his chair. "It's always about you, isn't it? You and your fucking reputation!" He pointed an accusing finger at Stella.
"Yes! It is about my reputation! Unlike you, I haven't thrown mine into the gutter by FUCKING AN IMP!"
Mission accomplished. Her parents would likely argue about this for the rest of the week, giving her the perfect opportunity to slip away unnoticed. Skillfully blending into the background, Octavia passed her bickering parents, heading towards the stairs.
"Oh, again with the imp! You'll never let that go! It was two times!"
"WHAT?! What do you mean TWO times, Stolas?!"
Octavia ascended the stairs with feline grace, her steps silent as a whisper. The cacophony of her parents' bickering echoed through the house, providing a perfect cover for her. She reached the top of the stairs and turned towards the Master bedroom, hugging the wall as she moved.
Approaching the L bend in the hallway, Octavia cautiously peered around the corner, her nerves cool like steel. However, her luck seemed to have run out as she spotted a hellhound guard stationed by her father's bedroom door. Dad must have instructed the guard to keep her out, a new addition to their security measures.
Octavia knew she had to divert the guard's attention. Her eyes darted around the corridor, finally settling on a glass vase. She recalled Stella had bought it from an auction for a ridiculous price. She picked up the vase with a firm grip before hurling it to the far end of the hallway. The sound of shattering glass reverberated through the halls.
"What's going on over there?" A deep, burly voice boomed from the distant end of the hallway.
Seizing the opportunity, Octavia swiftly opened a cabinet door, pushing aside scrolls and books to create a hiding spot. She slipped inside, leaving the door slightly ajar. She held her breath, her ears tuned to the heavy footsteps of the guard growing louder as he rushed towards the commotion.
As the guard rushed past her hiding spot, Octavia cautiously emerged from the cabinet, her movements fluid and silent. She snuck on the balls of her feet, rounding the corner to find the door to her father's bedroom unguarded. With a surge of urgency, Octavia hurriedly turned the knob.
The familiar sight of her parents' bedroom greeted her, along with the pleasant smell of flowers. She wasted no time searching the room. Closet, wardrobe, table - each place she checked yielded no trace of her coveted phone.
Desperation fueled her determination as Octavia's hands explored the top of the tall wardrobe. Her fingertips brushed against something cool and rectangular, sending a thrill of triumph through her. She grasped her phone, tucking it safely into her pocket, relief washing over her.
"Thank fuck. Now I just need to make it out of this house with you," she whispered, giving it a couple of pats. She peered out of the room, scanning the hallway for any signs of unwanted company. Satisfied that the coast was clear, she stepped out, her senses heightened. She closed the door behind her, feeling it click shut-
"What do you think you're doing, Ms Octavia!"
Octavia was suddenly lifted by the back of her shirt collar by a large, furry hand.
"Hey, let go of me!" Octavia shouted as the Hellhound guard carried her back to the stairs. "No, listen to me! I'm a princess, right? You have to take orders from me!" Octavia said a bit more nervously than intended.
"Sorry, princess. Prince Stolas' orders. Nobody gets into his bedroom," the hellhound said gruffly as he stepped down the stairs with loud thumps. As he entered the dining room, he gently set her down before her two parents.
"I cannot believe I had at ANY point in my life kissed the lips of someone who would go on to suck an imp's dick!" Stella screamed. "Why don't you just fuck a monkey while you're at it?"
"For the last time, I did NOT suck his dick!" Stolas shouted angrily at Stella. "Unless you plan on kissing my ass, which at this point you're very welcome to, you have no reason to worry about getting 'imp jizz essence' on your-"
The guard cleared his throat, catching the attention of Octavia's parents. "WHAT?!" They both shouted in unison.
The hellhound gestured to Octavia. "I caught her poking around upstairs, your majesty." He said, bowing before Stolas and Stella.
Stolas glanced back to Stella, sharing an apprehensive glance with her. "I see. Very well, be on your way," Stolas said to him, glaring at Octavia. The guard nodded, standing up and returning to his post upstairs.
"Octavia..." Stolas' voice was stern, bringing her heist to a screeching halt. "What were you doing upstairs just now?" He asked as he and Stella glared at her.
Octavia had to think fast! She composed herself, feigning frustration and weariness. "I just... needed a moment away from you guys. I don't want to hear my parents screaming at each other today. I'm already in a bad mood."
Stolas' stern gaze slowly melted away, replaced by a twinge of guilt. His face contorted with sadness and remorse, believing that his daughter sought solace from the household's constant bickering. Octavia almost felt bad that it was a lie.
She sidestepped Stolas, her phone hidden away in her pocket like a secret treasure. She prayed that neither of her parents noticed the phone-shaped outline against her pants.
"Octavia, I'm... sorry," Stolas uttered, his voice laden with sincerity. "I just worry about your happiness, that's all."
Octavia scoffed, crossing her arms. It was no longer a facade; now she really was pissed. How could he say that after signing her up to camp without her consent?
"I know, I know," Stolas said apologetically. "You're not keen on going to summer camp. But trust me, it'll be good for you!" he reassured, his face lighting up with a playful smile. "Moreover, I might have a way to make it up to you..." Stolas added, approaching Octavia.
He placed a vintage Polaroid camera in her hands.
"Seriously...?" Octavia muttered bemusedly, examining the device. It wasn't one of those trendy modern Polaroid cameras; it was the real deal. A model 98G, complete with a strap and a lens cover. It was roughly the size of a brick, half as heavy, and a fourth as culturally relevant.
"Make sure to capture all the fun moments on your camera, Via!" Stolas exclaimed, clearly pleased with himself. "I want to see when you return. And of course, I'm sure you won't forget to write to us."
Just what she needed. A collection of photos of trees and shrubs, serving as a reminder of her resentment towards her dad.
She knew how to operate the ancient technology thanks to her very brief hipster phase, but using something like this would make her look like a total dork! "Yeah, thanks. I guess," Octavia grumbled bitterly.
Stolas swelled with pride, Octavia's cynical sarcasm wholly lost on him. "I knew you'd love it! Photographs are like the memories we never had. They are the books written with light, capturing moments that fill our hearts and make us feel alive."
"Very poetic," Octavia grumbled, slinging the camera around her neck as she opened it up, finding a cartridge of 8 blank Polaroid photos already loaded. There was a side holster of two extra cartridges.
"The Art of Racing In The Rain, by Garth Stein," Stolas said, beaming with pride at his encyclopedic collection of stupid quotes. "I've already read it; I can lend you the book sometime when you return-"
BEEP BEEP!
The sound of a bus honking its horn sounded out from outside. Stolas jumped out of his seat, rushing over to the window.
"Oh dear! Your bus has arrived at the gate, Octavia!" Stolas exclaimed.
Octavia glanced down at her untouched breakfast, which was still on the table.
"Agh, DAMMIT, Stolas!" Stella screeched, stomping her foot in frustration. "Our daughter hasn't eaten yet! This is all because you started that fight with me!"
"Not now, Stella!" Stolas replied, hurrying to the kitchen cabinet and grabbing a granola bar. He rushed back to Octavia, placing the snack in her hands. "Take this with you, something to nibble on if you get hungry."
"A fucking granola bar? That's supposed to be her meal?!" Stella shouted in outrage.
"Well, I suppose we could pack her entire breakfast into her suitcase! Would that satisfy you, Stella?" Stolas snapped. "Or better yet, she could finish her breakfast, and you could drive her!"
Octavia rolled her eyes, grabbed her luggage, and stuffed the granola bar in her pocket. "Alright, love you too, guys. Bye," she said bitterly, heading out the door, leaving her bickering parents behind. She descended the stairs of the manor, jogging toward the bus with her suitcase in tow.
BEEP BEEP BEEP!
"Alright, I'm coming!" Octavia yelled, stumbling out of the gates of her manor into the frigid morning air.
The bus doors hissed before slowly opening as Octavia stepped onto the bus and dragged her luggage aboard, ignoring the glare from her bus driver. The familiar fragrance of leather bus seats, dust, and body odor greeted her.
The bus was packed! The cacophony of chatter droned throughout the bus. Almost every seat was taken. She shrunk a bit as she realized she might have to actually sit next to someone.
"This is so fucking bullshit," she muttered as she walked down the aisle, scanning for any open seats whatsoever or even just a spot next to someone who didn't hate her.
As she searched, a wad of paper bounced off the back of her head. She whipped around, looking back to see none other than the school's local implant addict, Samantha.
"Nice shirt, Octaviaaa~" She drawled as her friends giggled. "I love the way it contrasts your suicidal vibes~"
"I hope you kill yourself," Octavia said, turning back around.
Suddenly, the bus lurched forward, making Octavia stumble, grabbing a seat for stability. The bus slowly picked up pace, rumbling as it rolled down the road. With no time to be picky for seating, Octavia planted herself in the nearest open seat.
"Oh! What's up, Octavia?" Cameron said from beside her.
Fuck.