DIARY OF THE USELESS ONE

FLASHBACK

*GRACE’S POV*

The door to the study room creaked open, and my stomach immediately twisted into a knot. It was her—my mother. She swept into the room with her usual air of controlled perfection, dressed impeccably in a sharp business suit, every detail in place. She didn’t say much, didn’t need to. Her mere presence spoke volumes.

She crossed the room in her smooth, deliberate way, and placed a neatly packed container of fruits and cookies on the edge of my desk. She didn't even look me in the eye as she spoke.

“Grace, I brought you this. You can eat it later. Focus on your studies now. You can’t afford to lose any more time,” she said in that cold, composed tone, the same one she used to deliver every ‘encouraging’ word.

I glanced at the container but made no move toward it. I knew better. This wasn’t a gesture of kindness. No, it was another test. If I reached for the food now, they’d call me weak, accuse me of indulging myself when I should be working harder. If I didn’t touch it, it would be a silent confirmation that I was serious enough. Everything was a game, and I knew the rules all too well.

I forced a nod, my lips curving into a small, practiced smile. “Yes, Mom. I’ll focus.”

Her gaze flicked over me, lingering, as if searching for some sign of weakness or hesitation. When she didn’t find any, she turned to Mr. Sterling, standing by quietly, respectful but uneasy.

“Make sure she stays focused, Mr. Sterling,” she said, her voice sharp but polite. “We need her back on track, and we’re relying on you to help her with that.”

Mr. Sterling nodded quickly, his discomfort clear. “Of course, ma’am. Grace is working hard, as always.”

The tension in the room thickened, and I could feel it pressing down on me, making it harder to breathe. My mother stood for another moment, her eyes scanning me again, as if I were a project she was inspecting for flaws. When she was satisfied, she gave a curt nod and left, closing the door softly behind her.

The moment she was gone, I let out a slow breath, trying to release the pressure building inside me. My hands were cold, and I hadn’t realized I’d been clenching them into fists until the door clicked shut.

Mr. Sterling, who had been sitting quietly by my side, shifted in his seat, clearly trying to lighten the oppressive atmosphere. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “How about we take a short break, Grace? Just for a few minutes,” he offered gently.

I shook my head before he could even finish the sentence. “I can’t,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Not yet.”

His face softened with concern. “You’ve been at this for hours. It’s okay to take a moment to breathe. You’ll burn yourself out if you don’t.”

I could feel his eyes on me, waiting, but I couldn’t let myself give in. Not now. I couldn’t afford to. I had to finish everything before I could even think about eating or resting. My father’s voice echoed in my mind, sharp and cold, reminding me that I had already disappointed him once. I couldn’t let it happen again.

Mr. Sterling sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. “Grace… you’re not the same as when we started. You know that, don’t you?”

His words hit me harder than I expected. I stiffened, my fingers gripping the edge of the desk. “I’m fine,” I said quickly, too quickly. “I just need to finish this.”

He didn’t push, but I could tell he wasn’t convinced. “I’ve known you for almost two years now. You’re not the same girl who could conquer any task thrown her way with a smile. What’s going on? What’s really going on with you?”

For a moment, I couldn’t answer. His question cut too close, and I couldn’t afford to unravel here. I bit the inside of my cheek and focused on the papers in front of me, pretending like I didn’t hear him. He didn’t push further, but his silence spoke louder than anything else.

The weight of everything—the expectations, the pressure, the constant judgment—sat heavy on my chest. I wanted to tell him the truth, that I was drowning, that I didn’t know how much longer I could keep up this charade. But I couldn’t. I had to keep moving, keep proving that I was worthy of the praise, the attention, the love—if you could even call it that.

I was about to speak when I heard the softest creak of the door behind me. I tensed again, but this time, it wasn’t my mother. Olive peeked in, her eyes darting around the room before stepping inside carefully, making sure Mom was nowhere nearby. She flashed a quick smile at Mr. Sterling before coming straight to me, her expression shifting into one of concern.

“Hey,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I heard Dad got home before you did.”

She wasn’t asking. She already knew, probably from the driver or one of the house staff. Olive reached out and squeezed my shoulder gently, her usual playfulness nowhere in sight. “Are you okay?”

I didn’t answer at first, but her hand lingered on my arm, steady and comforting in a way I hadn’t realized I needed.

“You’re still you, Grace,” she whispered softly, her voice so low that only I could hear it. “You’re strong. Don’t let everything get to you. You’ll get through this.”

Her words pierced through the fog of doubt in my mind, and before I could respond, she leaned in closer, her lips almost brushing my ear. “And don’t forget,” she murmured, “you’re the reason I’ve done as well as I have. You’re the one behind my success. I believe in you, Grace. So do others. You’re not alone.”

She pulled back with a small, encouraging smile before turning to Mr. Sterling, addressing him with a bit more formality. “Please go easy on her, Mr. Sterling. She’s been through a lot lately.”

Mr. Sterling nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. “I’ll do what I can,” he promised.

Olive gave me one last look before slipping out of the room as quietly as she had entered. And just like that, the weight on my chest lightened, if only a little.

*MR. STERLING’S POV*

As I looked at Grace, something tugged at me, something more than just concern for her studies. I couldn’t help but notice how lifeless her eyes had become. She wasn’t the same girl who used to sit before me—sharp, focused, and eager to take on any academic challenge thrown her way. That girl, the Grace I knew, always seemed invincible, like nothing could shake her resolve.

But today, there was nothing. Just emptiness. Her gaze would drift, and no matter how hard she tried to focus, I could see that her mind was somewhere else. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. And it wasn’t just about her grades or her father’s pressure to always be perfect. This was deeper, like a shadow that had settled over her, pulling her into a place far darker than academic stress.

I found myself wondering what it was that haunted her. The Grace I had come to know wasn’t one to let expectations weigh her down. If anything, she thrived on them. So why now? Why did she seem so distant, so fragile? Whatever it was, it went beyond her parents' impossible standards. This wasn’t the Grace who excelled effortlessly, who would shrug off challenges with a quiet determination. This was someone else entirely—someone lost, struggling to stay afloat in a world that expected her to keep everything together.

I kept thinking back to all the times she’d breezed through even the hardest topics. I knew she was smart—probably smarter than anyone in this house gave her credit for. But her intelligence wasn’t the issue. No, what weighed on her had nothing to do with schoolwork. I watched her, trying to piece together what could have changed so drastically in the girl I thought I knew so well.

She didn’t even notice my eyes on her. She was too deep in her own thoughts. Her body was here, sitting across from me, but her mind was miles away. And it was clear that wherever she had gone, it wasn’t a safe place.

I silently prayed, hoping against hope that what I feared wasn’t true. The thought gnawed at the back of my mind, but I pushed it aside. No, it couldn’t be that. Grace—this strong, resilient girl I’ve come to know—couldn’t be crumbling under the weight of something darker. But as much as I wanted to deny it, something told me this wasn’t just stress or the burden of expectations.

Maybe it was just a rough patch, I told myself. Maybe she’d snap out of it. But deep down, I knew this wasn’t something that could be shrugged off. I wanted to believe it was temporary, just a bad day, maybe a bad week. But the longer I looked at her, the more I realized this wasn’t the Grace I’d seen for nearly two years. This was someone battling something bigger than any of us could understand.

I decided that tomorrow, I’d look for signs. I’d try to prove myself wrong, to see if I was just overthinking it. Surely, there had to be a logical explanation for this change. I wanted to believe that, more than anything.

I would give her space tonight, but tomorrow... tomorrow, I’d keep a closer eye. I had to know what was really going on before I let my mind spiral any further. Because if what I feared was true, then Grace needed help—more help than anyone had realized.

*GRACE’S POV*

It was already 7 PM, but the dread from earlier still clung to me like a heavy weight I couldn’t shake off. My lesson with Mr. Sterling had officially ended, but the real terror was just beginning. My father’s voice echoed in my mind, hard and sharp: *"I want a report of her performance before you leave, Mr. Sterling. Every detail."*

I was fidgeting with my pen, barely aware of what I was doing. The lesson had passed in a blur, but none of it stuck. How could it, when all I could think about was what would happen if Mr. Sterling told him I hadn’t been focused? What if he mentioned that my answers were slow, or that I seemed distracted? My dad wouldn’t care about *why*—he never did. All he would see is that I was slipping. That I wasn’t the perfect daughter he expected.

My heart was racing, and my hands trembled against the table. I didn’t realize how tightly I was gripping the pen until my knuckles turned white. The room felt suffocating, and the pressure of it all—school, my father’s expectations, the weight of failure—pressed down on me from every side. I didn’t want to look at Mr. Sterling. I didn’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes, knowing he had to tell my dad how I had performed today.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t hear Mr. Sterling calling my name. It wasn’t until he knocked on the table that I snapped out of it, startled. My head jerked up, eyes wide, my heart leaping in my chest.

“Grace?” His voice was soft, but it held a firmness that made me freeze. I could see the concern in his eyes, and for a moment, I felt exposed, vulnerable. He could see through the thin façade I had been clinging to all day.

I nodded, trying to swallow the panic rising in my throat, but the lump remained, heavy and thick. He had been watching me. Of course, he had. How could he not notice how distracted I’d been? How every answer came with hesitation, my mind wandering instead of focusing on the material. I braced myself for what he might say next, for the inevitable conversation about my performance—because that’s what this was leading to, wasn’t it?

The worst part was knowing that no matter what I said or how much I tried to explain, none of it would matter once Mr. Sterling spoke to my father.

Mr. Sterling leaned back in his chair, the weight of his gaze heavy on me. I expected him to launch into a lecture or ask me what had been going on lately, but instead, he sighed quietly, rubbing his temples before meeting my eyes again.

“Grace,” he started, voice low, “I’ve seen you at your best, and I know today wasn’t it. But I also know that something is weighing on you. I won’t pretend to know what it is, but I can see it.” He paused, letting the words settle between us. “You don’t need to worry about your father tonight.”

I blinked, not quite understanding what he was saying. Was he serious? Could he really mean that? The anxiety that had been twisting in my stomach didn’t ease, but a flicker of hope started to break through. I stared at him, unsure if I should believe him.

“I’ll tell him you did fine,” he continued, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You don’t need him biting your head off again, do you? He’ll get the report he’s expecting, but not the one he’d use against you.”

Relief washed over me, but with it came a strange guilt. He shouldn’t have to do this for me—lie for me, cover for me—but I couldn’t bring myself to protest. Not when I felt like I was barely holding on. Not when the thought of my father’s disappointment had been suffocating me all day.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath. I didn’t trust myself to say much more.

Mr. Sterling nodded, his expression softening. “But, Grace…you can’t keep this up forever. Whatever’s going on, you need to face it. I can only do so much to shield you from your father, but you’re strong enough to handle this—whatever *this* is.” His words hit me hard, and I bit down on my lip, trying to keep the tears from spilling over.

“I’ll give you time, but I need you to get back to being the Grace I know,” he added gently. “Not for your dad, not for anyone else, but for yourself.”

I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to pour everything out, tell him everything that was clawing at me from the inside, but I couldn’t. Not now. Maybe not ever. Instead, I just nodded, hoping that would be enough for now.

-——-

I exhaled deeply the moment the door clicked shut behind Mr. Sterling. My body, which had been so tense during the entire session, finally relaxed, but only slightly. The weight of my father’s expectations still pressed heavily on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

I wanted to believe Mr. Sterling when he said he'd cover for me, but it didn't take away the fear of what was waiting for me if I didn't meet the impossible standards my parents set. I wished I could go back—back to when I was still that girl everyone adored. The girl who didn't have to fake every smile or force herself to focus through the storm of emotions tearing her apart inside. But that girl was gone.

After a moment of standing there, lost in my thoughts, I dragged myself to my room. I didn’t even bother turning on the lights. The dim glow from the hallway was enough to guide me to the bed. I collapsed onto it, feeling the exhaustion in my bones. My stomach growled, but I wasn’t in the mood for a meal. Late-night eating was never my thing anyway. Instead, I reached for an apple from the mini-fridge near my bed, biting into it without much thought.

The quiet of the room enveloped me as I chewed slowly, my mind drifting. Everything felt so distant, as if I were living someone else’s life. Finishing the apple, I tossed the core into the trash before heading to the bathroom to wash away the remnants of the day.

As soon as the warm water hit my skin, I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the soothing sensation. But it wasn’t long before the familiar, unwanted memories came flooding back. The flash of that night. The struggle. The helplessness. The fear.

I saw it all again—the way I fought, how I screamed inside my head but felt paralyzed, unable to do anything more. That person… the one I had trusted, had looked up to, had shattered everything in an instant. The rush of panic came back so suddenly that I jolted my eyes open, gasping for air, as if I were drowning all over again.

Someone knock on my door, and my heart skipped a beat. I quickly finished rinsing off and stepped out of the shower, hastily wrapping a towel around me. My mind raced as I wondered who it could be. Drying off quickly, I grabbed my robe and slipped it on before opening the door, only to see my mom standing there.

Her presence caught me off guard. Mom never came to my room at this time. She gave me a long, careful look, and I couldn’t tell if it was concern or disappointment that clouded her face. I couldn’t help but wonder, *Why is she here?*