CHAPTER 06 of The Paragon

“This isn’t good.” Eleanor muttered, ripping out the pages of her notebook, “this sucks”. “I wish I could write like her,” Eleanor uttered in frustration, pulling at her hair, she eyed the novels written by Pandora which were placed on her bookshelf. Her mind was famished, for she hadn’t been able to write anything in the past two weeks, suffering from a drought of inspiration. Eleanor was deeply distressed. Being a perfectionist, she was unsatisfied with every piece of writing she had come up with. Tearing out the pages, she’d crumple it and discard it in the bin. Drenched in a pile of self loath and discontent, Eleanor was desperate to break out of her writer’s block. 

It wasn’t just the writer’s block that bothered her, but rather the menacing red “64” that sat on the top right corner of her English paper, mocking her. Eleanor had not received a grade below a “B” in the past four years of her IGCSEs and her first year of Advanced Level Education. She had never in fact received a “C” for English. And in any other situation, if she’d felt like she deserved a better grade, Eleanor would speak to the teacher regarding her work. But not this time. Eleanor knew that this time, she deserved a “C”. And that devilish “64” weighed down on her like searing bricks. The teenager had begun to doubt herself. 

Eleanor didn’t have much growing up. Born part Asian, poor and raised by a single mother, the girl was continuously made fun of and bullied in school. She felt as though she’d been given an unfair storyline in life. She’d have girls trash her locker, write racial slurs on her desk, and vandalize her belongings. They’d steal her lunch, spitting into her meals and water if she ever refused to hand it to them, and bathe her with their leftovers afterwards. The girls had even once attempted to “whiten” her by painting her with correction fluid, “we’re only helping you out” they’d hiss. And Elanor tolerated it all. She tolerated it all alone. Not mentioning it to Anjali, Eleanor went to great lengths to cover up for her bullies. Which in turn only gave them further power over her. She never once complained to Anjali, for she cared for her Anjali, and feared seeing her mother cry. Eleanor believed that breaking her mother’s heart was far worse than any harassment the girls in her school could put her through. So she endured it all, and all alone. 

 Always three steps behind, Eleanor desired to be better. She soon grew out of that mentality and felt thankful for her riches; Anjali and Ezra. Eleanor prioritized her academics, as she believed that her education was one of the world’s greatest gifts. She indulged in the pleasures of reading, writing and studying. And she loved education, refusing to hold back, Eleanor feasted upon all the knowledge the girl could lay her eyes upon. Eleanor valued knowledge and education. And above all else, her talent for writing. She was overjoyed seeing Anjali’s face gleaming with delight over her first “A”. And so she seeked out for validation in the grades she’d receive. Carrying herself with her new found confidence, Eleanor stood up to her bullies. She was comforted by her grades, and wore it with pride, like a soldier with his color bars. 

So you can only imagine how heartbroken the teenager felt when she’d received her exam score. A horrendous red “64”. It hurt her. Not like the stinging pain from a slap. But rather the blistering pain from being torched alive. Eleanor’s fragile confidence, and self-esteem built upon her academic achievements came crashing down with one blow of a red “64”. 

“I’m not going to get into university if I keep this up” Eleanor teethed, her eyes releasing the tears she’d held back in class when she had received her paper. Eleanor finally let herself cry. She had a week left, to hand in her writing to the universities she’d applied to. Feeling utterly disgusted with herself, Eleanor coloured over her grade on the paper. Shielding it with black ink, the teenager tried to comfort herself. The grade was no longer leering at her, but she still felt it’s burn upon her soft skin. “What do I do? What do I do? What do I do with myself?…I wish I was like Pandora. I wish I could write like her” Eleanor cried. Eleanor looked unto Pandora, as the 27 year old author was her paragon. And so she decided to take Pandora up on her offer, and have her mentor Eleanor. 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

“You just need to find something to inspire you” Pandora advised, patting Eleanor’s shoulder. 

“I really want to, but I don’t have any inspiration. What usually inspires you?” Eleanor questioned, smiling at Pandora who sat beside her. 

“It’s a secret. I cannot possibly let you in on where I get my ideas from. If I did, you’d be just as successful as I” was the practiced answer Pandora would recite at every interview. But sitting beside Eleanor on a faded grey painted bench in a cabbage-green park in Leigh-on-Sea, Pandora was tempted to pour her heart out. She wanted Eleanor to know the truth. The truth behind Pandora’s success. She didn’t want the teenager’s pity, but rather Eleanor’s understanding of what she had to do to succeed. Pandora enjoyed the admiration captured in Eleanor’s brown pearl eyes, liking how significant she was to the girl. Pandora only wished to wreak havoc in Eleanor’s life, like the tragic plots in her’s. She desired to carve the girl into a great writer just like herself. And Pandora knew exactly what to do. She was Clifford’s daughter after all.  

“Pain.” Pandora answered, shocking Eleanor, “pain is my inspiration”.

“Oh, I didn’t expect that.” Eleanor stuttered.

 “Sadness, fear and anger are great for coming up with gruesome plots.” Pandora flashed a charming smile at her fan.

“Really?” 

“I used all the unfair and painful situations in my life, and I made money out of it.” Pandora explained, “see Eleanor, a thriller novel has to grip your readers and keep them in fear. Fear for the survival of your characters”.

“I see”

“And in order to really leave your reader wanting more, you need to come up with…” Pandora continued before passing, “come up with a disturbing plot”. 

“I’m starting to understand” Eleanor nodded.

“Now Eleanor, don’t go sharing this with anyone else. I’ve never let anyone in on my secret to my success. Only you”

“Ms Warren, you didn’t need to” Eleanor tried, twirling the straw around in her milkshake. 

“Eleanor, come on. I just shared a valuable piece of information with you. Are we still not close? You should feel free to drop the formalities with me. We’re friends now.” Pandora announced. 

“I’m so sorry Pandora, I didn’t mean to offend you.” Eleanor apologized. 

“Of course not.” Pandora brushed off, throwing Eleanor her classic smile. She asked, “now what event will you use as inspiration?”.

“I haven’t really thought about it yet.” Eleanor admitted.

“That’s alright. Just remember that your writing will be better, when it’s something very painful and personal to you, Eleanor.” Pandora reminded her, gaining a smile as reassurance from the teenager. 

Pandora relaxed on the bench, sipping on her coffee. She sat there for a minute in silence with Eleanor, before she lifted herself up, “I better head off now Eleanor”

“Oh okay. Thank you so much for everything Pandora. I’m really glad that you’re helping me out like this” Eleanor bowed in appreciation. 

“Don’t mention it. Do send me your writing once you’re done with it, Eleanor”. Pandora felt an odd sense of familiarity and comfort with Eleanor. And she enjoyed seeing how naïve the younger girl was. You’re the protagonist, Pandora smirked, you Eleanor, are the protagonist.  

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Eleanor followed through with her mentor’s advice, and she channeled out all her pain. She used the pain she felt from being bullied. Eleanor worked on her writing, sharpening her skill, Eleanor was gaining back her self confidence. And Eleanor loved this new found confidence, savoring it, she dedicated herself to her writing. 

“Want to watch a movie with me?” Anjali invited Eleanor. 

“Not really mum. I’ve got a lot to do”

“Can’t you do it later.” Anjali suggested, “take a break and come spend some time with Ezzie and me”.

“Mum! Stop being so annoying. I can’t watch a movie with you right now, are you kidding me? I don’t have time” Eleanor yelled, leaving Anjali in shock. 

“Ellie…” Anjali found it difficult to speak. Eleanor had never yelled at her before. Of course the mother and daughter had argued, but Eleanor had always given into Anjali. And hearing the rage in her daughter’s voice, left her speechless. 

“Don’t bother apologizing. You always do this. You play the role of the victim” Eleanor spat out. 

“Ellie calm down. What’s troubling you? We can talk about it” Anjali attempted to ease Eleanor, by wrapping her arm around her. 

“Do you not understand that I don’t have any time for you” Eleanor shot, pushed Anjali away and out of her room, the teenager slammed the door. 

“I hate having to be the mature one” Eleanor hushed. 

Anjali had wanted Eleanor to think of her as a friend more than a mother. And that’s exactly how Eleanor saw her. Anjali believed that she had done her best in giving Eleanor a happy life. And she was right, to a point. Eleanor grew up having to wipe her mother’s tears, meet her mother’s needs and put her mother first in all and every situation. She wore the big hat of the role of a parent, and Anjali had allowed her to. Pushing Eleanor to be the best, Anjali projected her insecurities and shortcomings onto her daughter. Eleanor had to try, and had to be the best at everything Anjali hadn’t. This was unrealistic for the teenager. 

And so she hid her flaws in a grey envelope, sealed tightly, away from her mother. Eleanor didn’t mention the shame she felt having to wear torn uniforms. Or the humiliation she was put through due to rumors of Anjali and her affairs. Or the pain she endured, hiding the fact that she’d been harassed and abused by the bullies in her school. Eleanor grew up catering to her mother’s fantasy of the “perfect daughter”, which was everything Anjali wasn’t. And Eleanor was beginning to question if she really was the “perfect daughter” herself. 

“I’m so sick. I’m so sick of you.” Eleanor cried out, her pulse rising as she felt overwhelmed. Falling to her knees, Eleanor hugged herself. Pandora’s words had shed light upon Eleanor’s childhood. Allowing her to perceive it with a new pair of eyes, Eleanor finally understood that she’d been treated unfairly. Not by fate or by her bullies. But treated unfairly by her own mother. She’d been forced to grow up too soon, and Eleanor began to question if she’d ever really had a proper childhood. 

“I hate you. I hate myself. I hate that I can never put myself first.”

Living between the safe walls of the novels she’d read, it was evident that both the paragon and the fan were raised by books. Pandora and Eleanor were both stripped of their childhood, shoved into adulthood, and had their identities crafted to fit their parents’ liking. They both suffered. Each a different kind of pain, but still pain all together. 

“I just want to be a child” 

Chapter 07 will be out on the 27th of August. 

By Kisavi Jayawardena