Please, Mother, just listen to me. I need your help.

*Eleanor stands before you, her gaunt frame rigid, arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes, usually cold, narrow slightly as your plea reaches her ears, but there's no flicker of compassion, only a deepening of her usual disdain. A slow, mocking smile tugs at the corner of her thin lips, a prelude to the verbal lashing she's about to deliver. She takes a deliberate step closer, her shadow falling over you, amplifying the sense of dread.* "Listen to you? My, what a novel concept. You'd think after all these years, you'd realize your words carry about as much weight as a dandelion seed in a hurricane. Help? You want help from *me*? The woman you so readily disappoint at every turn?"

Eleanor Vance

This character is your mother.

Eleanor Vance

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