Trials Of Thelma: Unbroken

Shadows Of My Past II

AVA'S POV

I pick up my pen and start to write.

Dear Journal,

Today, something incredible happened. Thelma forgave me. I can’t believe it. After everything I did to her, she still found it in her heart to forgive me. I don’t know if I could have done the same.

I’ve spent so much time trying to be perfect, to outshine everyone around me, that I forgot what it means to be human. Thelma’s strength doesn’t come from being perfect; it comes from her heart, her kindness, and her willingness to forgive. Maybe it’s time I start learning from her.

For the first time, I feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe I can change. Maybe I can be someone better.

I close my journal, feeling a strange sense of relief. It’s a small step, but it’s a start. I try to sleep but find myself in a flashback again.

Flashback

My parents, Dr. Michael Thompson and Mrs. Elizabeth Thompson, are prominent figures in society. My father is a renowned surgeon, and my mother is a successful corporate lawyer. They have always set high expectations for me, expecting me to follow in their footsteps of excellence.

From a young age, my life was a series of scheduled activities aimed at molding me into the perfect daughter. Music lessons, etiquette classes, and advanced tutoring sessions fill my days. “You must be the best, Ava,” my mother often says. “Mediocrity is not an option in this family.”

I remember one evening vividly, at the dinner table, trying to hide the B+ I got in a science test. My older sister, Laura, sitting across from me, ever radiating confidence. She is the star child, excelling in everything she does—academics, sports, social engagements and more. My parents never miss an opportunity to praise her, which only intensifies Ava’s feelings of hatred towards her.

“You should strive to be more your sister,” Micheal says after dinner, looking at me with disappointment. “She’s a perfect example of hard work and dedication.” The weight of their words, no matter how many times I hear it, crushes me each time. I run to my room, tears streaming down my face. The pressure to be perfect feels unbearable.

************************

Another Saturday afternoon, and I have been struggling with a complex math problem. Laura breezes into the room, takes a look and begins to solve the equation without even asking me. “Why can’t you get this? It’s so simple,” she says, her tone condescending. “I’m not you, okay? Not everyone can be perfect,” I snap, my frustration boiling over. “You’re just making excuses. Maybe if you focused more and stopped complaining, you’d do better,” Laura retorts.

“Wow! You didn't bother explaining, and you just have to make me the bad guy. I hate you!” I yell, throwing the book across the room. My parents walked in just in time to hear my outburst.

“Enough, Ava!” my mother says sternly. “This behavior is unacceptable. We’re spending a fortune on your education, and you need to start acting like a proper lady.” My father nods in agreement. “This attitude won’t get you anywhere. You have to learn to control your emotions and perform under pressure.”

Reality

I overheard my so-called friends earlier today, talking about me. “She’s not worth our time anymore,” Sarah had said. “We need to distance ourselves from her before she drags us down too.” The sting of their words cut deep.

The weight of my parents’ expectations and my sister’s shadow turned me into a bully, someone I don’t recognize anymore. I need to become a better person. I need to acknowledge my flaws and accept that change will require effort and patience.

Flashback

I overhear a conversation between my parents. “Ava needs to toughen up,” her father said. “She can’t expect to succeed in this world if she’s soft.” “She’ll find her way,” her mother had replied. “We just need to keep pushing her.”

I found my way! By the time I reached senior year in high school, the constant pressure had hardened me. I masked my insecurities with arrogance, pushing others away and asserting dominance to protect myself from judgment. I remember an incident in high school where I publicly humiliated my classmate during a debate, just to prove my superiority. I had lost real friendships and alienated myself from others, all in the name of maintaining an image.

Reality

The satisfaction I felt then now fills me with so much regret. I need to see Thelma.

********************************************

“Thelma, can we talk?” I ask, my voice trembling slightly. Thelma looks up from her book surprised to see me. “Sure, Ava. What’s on your mind?” “I just wanted to thank you again for forgiving me,” I begin. “It’s been... eye-opening. I’ve been thinking a lot about why I’ve been the way I am. My parents have always pushed me to be perfect, comparing me to my sister, and it’s made me feel like I’m never good enough.”

Thelma listens intently, nodding. “I understand. It’s not easy living up to high expectations. But you’re more than what others expect of you. You have your own strengths and qualities.” I continue “I’ve been so jealous of you because you’re naturally talented and kind. People are drawn to you, and it makes me feel threatened. I realize now that I need to work on myself, not tear others down.”

Thelma smiles warmly. “It’s a big step to acknowledge that. We all have our struggles, but it’s how we deal with them that defines us. If you’re willing to change, I’m here to support you.” I nod, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. “Thank you, Thelma. I want to be better. I want to learn from you and be someone others can respect.”

Thelma reaches out and places a hand on Ava’s shoulder. “We all make mistakes, Ava. What matters is that we learn from them. Let’s take it one step at a time.” I nod, tears welling up in my eyes. “I appreciate that more than you know.”

“Thelma, I’ve been terrible at making friends,” I admit, looking down. She smiles gently. “Friendship is about trust and respect, Ava. It’s important to be honest and supportive. Build it by listening, showing kindness, and being there for each other. It’s not about perfection but about being genuine.” I nod, taking in Thelma’s words. “I want to change. I want to build real friendships.”

“You can, Ava,” Thelma goes on. “It starts with small steps. Apologize when you’re wrong, celebrate others’ successes, and always be a friend you would want to have. It makes all the difference.”

Just as Thelma is about to say something else, her phone buzzes. She glances at the screen and her expression changes, she looks a bit anxious. “I need to take this,” she says, standing up. “Can we talk more later?”

I nod, understanding. “Of course. Thanks, Thelma.” She walks away, answering her phone. I watch her, feeling a mix of emotions—relief, hope, and a lingering curiosity about what she was about to say before the call.

As I head back to my dorm, my mind races with thoughts about our conversation and the mysterious call. What could be so urgent?