Losing Liberty (Part 1).
Janice Avery glared at her thirteen year old daughter.
“You are going to stay in this library until closing time and study. Don’t get sidetracked, Liberty, and above all, don’t waste your time daydreaming. Do I make myself clear?”
Liberty nodded obediently. As was expected of her perfect daughter, she gave her mother the loveliest smile in return.
“Yes, Mama.”
“Now I have added my own recommendations to your reading list. You must read them from cover to cover to get the most benefit. Make your Mama proud, darling. There are just four years left before the entrance exams. Don’t waste your years in high school. You need to make the most out of every spare second.”
“Yes, Mama,” Liberty echoed again. She waited as her mother kissed her on the cheek and stroked her golden hair.
“That’s what I want to hear. I will come and pick you up at 7 pm. I love you, Liberty.”
“I love you more,” Liberty beamed. She had to wait until Dr Avery was out of sight before Libby was free from that sickening smile.
“I don’t want to be here,” she moaned, desperately wishing she had the courage to admit it to her mother’s face.
“How is this fair? I’m only a junior and yet she makes me sit here day after day. I want to have some fun. I want to go out into the sunshine. I want to meet people. Is it so much to wish for a chance to makes some friends?”
Suddenly filled with a desire to assert her independence, Libby stared at her toes and focused. Maybe today would be her day.
“Stand up,” she commanded. Libby smiled as her legs obeyed.
“Very good. Now let’s try walking to the bottom of the stairs.”
So far, so good. Now it was time for Libby to try the tricky part.
“Place one foot on the first step, then the other. I need to get to the exit.”
As soon as the poor girl thought of the word, exit, her hovering foot froze.
“Come on. Keep going,” Libby cried, earning herself all sorts of strange looks. She blocked them out and willed her body to move, to the point of making herself shake. No matter how much she wished to move forward, it was impossible.
“I hate you,” screamed the defeated girl, her eyes welling with tears.
The kids at school used to laugh at Libby when she insisted that her mother had brainwashed her. Little did they know that it was the absolute truth. Dr Avery may have thought she had won by silencing Libby, cursing her tongue to freeze every time she considered talking badly about her or calling out for help. What the doctor did not understand is that she forced her daughter to learn how to have a fighting spirit.
“Don’t cry, Libby. Mama doesn’t control my tears, I do. Don’t let her win.”
Somehow Libby found the inner strength to pull herself off of the stairs and return to her study nook.
The poor girl groaned when read the clock on the wall. It wasn’t even 4 pm yet. Watching the second hand finish one revolution seemed to take an eternity. How was she supposed to stay sane for over three hours? Absentmindedly, Libby picked up a book and turned to the first page. Boy, was that a mistake. At the request of her overbearing mother, once Libby had started reading, she was unable to stop. Despite the fact that she was bored out of her mind, she was compelled to absorb every last word. Reaching the back cover, at last, she hurled the book across the library as if it was poisonous.
“Why have you done this to me?” Libby shrieked. Then she became aware of one of the librarians walking towards her. Inwardly, she sighed. It was Thomas, the friendly, older man with the glasses that always seemed to be there just in the knick of time to witness her crazy outbursts.
“Is everything alright, Miss?” he asked her. The dear man wasn’t just checking in on her out of politeness. Libby had spoken to Thomas often enough now to sense that his warmth was genuine. It killed her that she was such a consistent source of concern.
Against her will, Libby demeanour changed. She returned his gaze, filled with a cool confidence that she did not really possess. Desperately she wished that she could weep, scream, swear, do something to cause a scene and draw some attention to herself. While she was often caught in the act of being a lunatic when she was ‘seemingly’ alone, as soon as her focus shifted to another person in the room she could not help transforming into Liberty, the very definition of perfection. With a mind of its own, that flawless smile returned. Without any control of what was coming out of her mouth, Libby assured Thomas that she was quite alright.
The librarian frowned and gestured at the book on the floor.
“I think that ‘Biology For Beginners’ would disagree.”
Liberty laughed. It sounded so much like her mother’s fakery that on the inside she was cringing.
“Have you ever met a teenager who actually enjoys studying? I was just frustrated. I promise that it will never happen again.”
Thomas paused in thought. Libby expected a lecture about proper etiquette in a library. What he did instead was far worse. His knelt and examined her with his compassionate cornflower blue eyes.
“Disliking studying is perfectly normal. I remember banishing a few Mathematics books in a similar fashion in my senior year. What’s strange is seeing a teenager looking so scared. Is there some way that I can help you?”
Do I look scared then? Does it show? Thank God. Maybe there is a chance that somebody will find me one day.
Not for the first time, Libby tried to articulate her situation to Thomas. To his credit, he waited patiently as the words caught in her throat.
“Whatever it is you can tell me. Is there any way that I can help? Is there somebody that I can call for you?” he persisted.
‘Where to start?’ Libby fantasised. The police perhaps? Maybe he can call somebody to sort out my head? I would love to talk to Uncle Talon again. He probably wants nothing to do with me still, but at least I can remember how we used to be. At least he used to treat me like my own person.
To hear herself sweetly reply, “no thank you” was devastating.
“Thomas, would you mind awfully if you left me alone now? These books aren’t going to read themselves, you know?”
Before he could respond, the Liberty part of her opened her poetry book. ‘Great’, she thought as she realised what she had just done. Now she was trapped again, committed to reading every verse until the back cover. Though she was unable to look up, Libby felt the librarian’s supportive arm on her shoulder.
“You show that book who is boss, love. Good luck. If you need anything at all, you know where to find me”.
It wrecked Libby knowing that she was powerless to reach out to Thomas. Committed to reading 256 pages of poetry, she could not offer him a smile of gratitude or even a simple thank you in return for his kindness.
You might as well give up on me, Thomas. Everybody else has. People pretend to like me because I am pretty and clever but I know what they really think. They call me the ice princess behind my back, and I can’t deny that it is well deserved.
Focus, Liberty.
Libby groaned. How she hated that her mother could scold her even when they weren’t in the same room.
Like I even have a choice in the matter. Fine then.
Libby sped through the book as quickly as she could until she was at last free to put it down and lay her head on the desk.
This time she could not hold back her tears.
“I can’t believe that she named me Liberty. What a joke. I don’t even have the strength to stand up for myself.
Libby allowed herself to fall apart in self-pity for a while. Then she took a deep, steadying breath.
“Own your name, Liberty. One day you will find a way to be free of her. Stay strong.”
If Libby wasn’t able to leave the library, at least she was free to retreat inward. That was how these long study sessions, usually went. She could always find some peace within the garden of her childhood, despite the fact that her last memory there was so bitter. Libby sniffed, trying to remember the scent of the gardenias. She brushed her fingers through the grass, though as usual, she felt nothing. Even remembering her sanctuary gave her little pleasure anymore. Without her Uncle Talon around to validate her existence, she had started freezing over inside. Libby was feeling more flawlessly artificial and less like herself with every passing day. As much as she hated to admit it, her mother’s dearest wish was coming true. Janice Avery was succeeding in turning her into a perfect, living doll.
“I am real.”
Libby could not afford to descend into this mental spiral. If she didn’t start taking care of herself, she would drown.
“I am real. These gardenias and freesias are real. Uncle Talon is sitting amongst his rose bushes, waving at me. This is my real life. I am happy. This is what happiness feels….”
Don’t get sidetracked, Liberty. Above all, don’t waste your time daydreaming.
Her mother’s words had the same effect as a bucket of ice water. Libby’s eyes snapped open. When she tried closing them again, she felt a jolt of pain. Libby was getting a headache, a bad one. As soon as her eyes were open, the pain disappeared.
“I don’t know why I am so surprised,” Libby snapped. “Why don’t you take my soul next? Just keep taking from me until there is nothing left.”
Libby froze in fear as she heard what she just said. Was there anything left for her now that her mother had taken control of her memories? Without her past, all that she had to look forward to was books and soulless perfection. How long could Libby survive? Would she continue to exist, helplessly watching on as she danced Dr Avery’s dance, or would she stop existing entirely?
As if life wasn’t intolerable enough, Liberty decided to chime in on the matter. Like she did sometimes, the obedient school girl took control and recited one of her lessons.
“I have no wit, no words, no tears
My heart within me like a stone
Is numb’d too much for hopes or fears
Look right, look left, I dwell alone”
“Stop it, Liberty!”
Libby threw her hands over her ears, even though the wretched poem kept reciting in her head.
Why should I stop? The poem is right. I am alone.
I don’t care if the poem is right. Shut up.
Libby drew in deep breathes in a pathetic effort to manage her panic. She was so weary that she could not help wondering how long it was before Liberty would become her dominant personality. At least for the hero in Rossetti’s poem, there was hope for him within his next life. If it came down to those two awful choices, disappearing or slavery, Libby knew what she would prefer. To die was supposedly peaceful. It was far better to die a little inside then to walk through life aware but powerless in the body of a brainwashed, plastic doll.
End of part 1.
Read part two here:
Thank you so much for reading. The poem that I quoted was A Better Resurrection by Christina Rossetti which you can read here: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44991/a-better-resurrection
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