More Than a Game to My Hockey Stars

Clover's P.O.V ************************************ "Today's the day, Dad," I whispered as I held the framed photograph of me and my dad from when I was a little girl. "I'm getting out of here today. Finally." Today is my 18th birthday. Five long years in this golden cage, and I'm finally about to break free. No more controlling me. My life is my own now. I've been living with my mother, Clara, and her husband, Declan, for the last five years. Before that, it was just me and my dad. For as long as I can remember. Clara left us when I was still really little. Dad always told me that adults and love were complicated. I always thought that she met Declan and fell in love, and that was why she left us. I was wrong. When I was 13, my dad died. Cancer. It took him long and slow and painful in ways no one should ever have to go through. I was the only one there for him. And then he died. While holding my hand in a hospital bed. I didn't even get to go home before the police and social services arrived. And I never realized how much my life was really going to change. Dad and I thought I would be placed with our neighbor. A sweet elderly lady that helped us when the cancer got really bad. That was the plan Dad signed off on. Unfortunately, the state doesn't work like that. Because I had a mother out there, I had to be placed with her. Whether either of us liked it or not. So, there I was, 13 years old, scared, devastated, and lonely. I was walked up the stone steps of a house that was twice the size of the entire apartment complex Dad and I lived in. And there was Clara, blinking at me with confusion. We didn't know each other at all. We were strangers. Clara didn't even recognize me, her own daughter. I thought she would tell the social worker to take me back, sign her rights away. Surprisingly, she didn't. Back then, I was naive enough to think that maybe Clara had wanted a relationship with me. Maybe she saw her daughter standing there after having her life flipped upside down and felt pity or guilt. I thought I'd gotten lucky that she wanted me, that I wouldn't have to be alone. Turns out the only thing Clara wanted was a living, breathing barbie doll. I learned quickly that I was nothing more than a decoration in this house. I'd be punished if I spoke out of turn. I had a million extra lessons to take. I had to learn three other languages, how to play the piano, and join the debate team. If I refused, I was punished. If I didn't learn fast enough, I was punished. If I didn't win, I was punished. And if I couldn't be useful.... the punishment was worse. But that all ends today. Because now I'm free to make my own decisions. I applied to several colleges far, far away behind Clara's back. I applied for scholarships too. I don't care if I had to live on the street and work three separate jobs while going to school. I was going to get out of this place. I was going to make a living with my art. And I was never going to see Clara or Declan again. I packed one suitcase. Not the new set that Clara made me use when we vacationed. The one I showed up here with five years ago. I only took practical things. Nothing expensive. Nothing that played the part of Clover Murillo. No, I only wanted to be the girl I was before I came here and Clara changed my entire existence. Clover Thorton. I looked at myself in the long mirror in my bedroom. My long honey-blonde hair was hanging around me in waves, ending below my breasts. Clara hated how long it was. She always said it wasn't practical, but it was the one thing she let me have. She hated my freckles too. I only have a small dusting over my nose and under my eyes. She called them imperfections and demanded I wear makeup before I ever left the house. My hazel eyes are bright with hope, something I haven't seen in my own reflection in years. Today I have something to look forward to though. I got accepted into my dream school, into the art program. I have a suitcase packed. All that's left is to get my art supplies and leave. The only good thing Clara ever did for me was give me a studio in the house. I think she found I was easier to control if I was allowed to paint. She hated it when I'd come out with paint on my clothes and hands. Always said it was unbecoming for a Murillo. But I wasn't actually a Murillo, and I never wanted to be one. Everything changes today. Suddenly, there was a soft knock on my bedroom door. I looked up as Maeve, one of the younger maids, opened my door. Her head was down, something all the "servants" did. I hated it. Declan had specific rules for the help in his house. Like not looking any of us in the eye, because apparently we're some kind of royalty and not regular people like everyone else. I've always hated it with a passion. "Miss Clover,"' Maeve said timidly, her head still down. I sighed. "Yes, Maeve?" I didn't bother telling her to look at me. Or not to be afraid to speak to me. I've made that mistake before. Not with Maeve, but with others. And then Declan made me sit and watch as he punished them. Some were punished in a way that I was absolutely sure was illegal. Others were fired. Not sure if they got off easy though. Hard to tell when a single mother is begging not to be fired because she has five mouths to feed. Not that Declan ever cared. The only thing Declan cares about is money. And his company, but that's because it makes him billions. I'm not even sure if he cares about his own son. If I had to guess, the answer would be no, considering Truce rarely ever comes home. Even for the holidays. I've only even met my step-brother a handful of times. "Madam and Sir would like you to come down for dinner," Maeve told me. I went still. "They're here?" I whispered and Maeve nodded. I thought they were gone. Just yesterday Clara told me they were going on a business trip to Europe and wouldn't be back for several weeks. I thought I had the perfect opportunity to disappear behind their backs. When did they get back? Did they even actually go? "H-how's their mood?" I asked Maeve as I smoothed down my dress. "I think you should just go quickly, Miss Clover," she said softly, her voice full of pity. I nodded and dismissed her. I hesitated though. I didn't want to go down. It was never good if one of them called me for anything. I always knew to expect the worst when it was both of them. Although, lately, they've been conspiring to marry me off. They'd called me down for dinner with family friends a handful of times over the last few months. Always to introduce me to a son who was too old for me, wanting me to marry for connections before I even turned 18. Honestly, the fact that they either came back or never actually left is terrifying on its own. There's no way that they could know about my plans though. I kept it all very quiet. I didn't tell a single soul. Not even the school knew where all I was applying to. I was very careful about it all. So, it must be something else. It must be another blind date, another opportunity to belittle me, another opportunity to add more ridiculous lessons to my already full plate. Maybe they just want to talk about college plans, since they believe I haven't decided yet. Yeah, it's probably that. Oh, how wrong I turned out to be.