Someone bursts into the room, turns on the light. My God, when did I fall asleep? I immediately reach for my glasses and squint at the figure stalking towards me, my head suddenly struck by the light.

"Someone's got it good here, getting to sleep all day! Do you think this is all right?” Mum shoves her smartphone in my face, almost too big to fit between her fake-nail fingers. Although her hand is shaking with excitement, I immediately recognise the electronic gradebook. My throat tightens with fear and I suddenly want to be somewhere else. Anywhere.

“Tell me, what do you see?”

“Did I fail the test...?” I gasp in agony.

“Louder, so your father can hear!”

“Math: F!“ The held back tears sting.

My father stands in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, his dead eyes brought back to life by anger.

“Did you really think you deserve privileges like going on a trip with us?”

His sharp words peel the skin from my soul. I just wanted to be kind... to see him start living again. And behold, he's regained his strength, just to humiliate me.

“What?!” She puts her hand on her hip. “We shouldn't even let you out of your room!”

“It's not as if I go that many places...” I pull my knees up to my chest. I'd like to pull the covers over my head, just so I don't have to see the alliance that's forming between them.

“Your father told me that you got home after four again today, even though you only had class until one thirty-five.”

She picks up my bag and dumps its contents on the carpet. The chips and chocolate, the textbooks and notebooks crumple to the floor, then a Christie Golden book and two adult books.

“Did you just pop into the library? If you can read, you shouldn't spoil your eyes with rubbish like that!” She swats the erotic anthology “Touch Me” with his foot and kicks the pile of books.

No, no! I quickly pick them up and hold them close to me. I couldn't bear it if they got damaged and I'd have to beg them for money to pay the compensation.

“Sure, hug them tightly. You won't get to hug anyone else in your miserable life anyway. Nobody wants a freeloader. And if you keep going like this, you'll never get anywhere. You're gonna be a fucking garbage man or a janitor, not a lawyer!”

“Who wants to be a lawyer?!” My voice is shaking, just like I do. I can barely stand her glare, but I hold on just the same. “I'll take librarianship.”

“Would you sully the Morawa name with such a lowly degree? Would you bring shame on your grandfather? And me?” Dad is coming closer.

As if his idleness would greatly honour Grandfather's memory.

“My daughter is not going to be a bookworm who spends all day stacking blanket novels. Ridiculous.”

“Just leave it, if she keeps it up, she won't be accepted anywhere.” Mom says. “So I suggest you get your fucking act together, girl, if you don't want to spend your life scrubbing other people's shit off the toilet bowl. Of course, your needs might be met by this. But not ours. If you think we're going to stand idly while you fuck up your life, you're sorely mistaken. You will apply to law school. Whether you want to or not.”

“Or you can go wherever you like, because I'm not going to support you any longer,” Dad adds.

“I called your math teacher so you can correct your grade. You'd better start studying right away, because if you screw up tomorrow's test, I'll smash your damn computer, which you've been messing with all night!” She turns her back.

“Even if I study, it would mean nothing if I can't sleep! You two are at each other's throats every night until dawn!”

Mum stops on the threshold, looks back. For a moment I'm sure she'll come and hit me, just like Dad did yesterday. Instead, she just looks at me with those icy black eyes. When she speaks, her voice is as cold as her eyes.

“There are problems in every family. Shifting your responsibility onto someone else is a shameful thing that no one will tolerate. I strongly recommend you stop doing that. Or you'll die alone.”

In deep agreement, they exit contentedly and slam the door behind them.

Of course. They can do anything. Everything. I can almost hear the sound of my mother's stiletto heels smashing into the screen of my laptop. They can take away anything I hold dear. I am at their mercy. Oh, David, if only someone would come along in my life too that I could cling to and escape! Anyone. Even someone like Sophie, who's so jealous I could only see you once a month.

But why do I need someone? Why can't I do it alone? If I study hard enough, get good grades, graduate college, get a good paying job...

I reach for my math book, but as soon as I pick it up, I put it down. Come on... I'll never understand it.

But what if I can do it?

I open the book, but my enthusiasm soon evaporates. It's as if it were written in an unknown language. Despair takes hold, the numbers flow into words before my tired eyes.

You'll be a garbage man.. You'll spend a lifetime scrubbing other people's shit off the toilet bowl... You'll die alone...

What am I trying for? I'm just kidding myself. I close the book, as if I can shut the words out of my head.

I reach for my mobile phone to open Metamorph's video from yesterday, when I see that he has uploaded a new one this noon. How strange; he usually post videos in the evening. I scroll in. I'm immediately lost in his sky-coloured eyes, my mind filled with his blue hair shimmering in the monitor light, his calm, raspy voice. And, of course, the airy movements of the legendary white-haired elf as he slaughters demon after demon in the dungeon.

“... many of you have been asking whether you can see me at this year's World Championship. I'm not keeping it a secret: yes, I will be there. I've had enough of the depression caused by last year's failure. I'm going to prepare harder and do my best to overcome my stage fright. Yes, I know, there are seven hundred and fifty-eight thousand of you watching at the moment, but it's completely different to play in a huge arena, to hear your fans live, to feel how much you love me - or what I do, at least. I’m depressed by the risk of losing it all. But of course that's silly.” He smiles, with the kind of heart-stopping smile that makes thousands of girls faint.

“I'm the best player the world ever had.” he says, so modestly, so full of complexity, that I want to hug him.

I wish I could see it live! I wonder if Bill would like that? Maybe he's watching this very video and daydreaming about the same thing. It would be great to travel to the Championship together, share the enthusiasm, analyse the gameplays! And then afterwards...

The scene on the bus this morning, when he pulls me to him... and then down to bed. He kisses me, gently at first, then more intensely. As if he'd been dreaming about it for years, since the first time we met. Of me. The girl who understands him, his thoughts, his feelings. His long fingers digging demandingly under my top, and me trembling to give every inch of my body to him. And to have more of him. I wrap my legs around his narrow hips, his manhood bulging beneath his trousers pressed against my pubic mound. I let out a low moan. I reach into his shaggy black hair to pull him closer, but our lips are already connected. Our lips part for a moment, he removes his shirt and I stroke his toned muscles. He removes my clothes, which makes me feel a little embarrassed, but he takes possession of my body with such eager pleasure that my doubts are dispelled and I feel like the most attractive woman in the world...

The sound of a struggle pulls me back from the double bed in the hotel to David's bedroom.

Who would fuck a pig?

I take my hands away from my body. On the screen of my phone, an athletic man is banging a young girl with perfect curves. His huge cock dives again and again into her clean-shaven pussy.

Shame overwhelms me. How did I get here?

Mum and Dad are yelling. One half of me is curious and encourages eavesdropping, while the other is fed up with it for life. What if they come up and catch me not studying?

Fuck them! - I take out my headphones and switch back to Metamorph's video, which I have no idea when I have stopped watching. I'm lost in his voice, letting his words permeate my soul and make me forget the hell that's going on around me, the pain of loneliness. Looking at the chat, I realize I'm not so alone after all. I could write a comment...

No one would respond and it would only hurt more.

The house shakes, signaling the garage is opening and Dad is leaving.

I secretly wish he wouldn't come back.