...Or not.

...Or not.

Lucy stared loathingly at the stack of cards before her; stark white with red borders and bold black text that read "Thank You!" Yes, there was even that God-awful exclamation point that would trick people into actually thinking she was thanking them. Truth was, Lucy was the absolute opposite of thankful towards the guests that had attended her graduation party. She hadn't even wanted the dumb party in the first place! The gathering only occured because of her parent's nagging persistence. Oh, it'll be such a blast, Luce! Lies. It wasn't, and she never had an inkling of hope it would be. What kind of graduate didn't want a party? Well, the kind that didn't want high school to be over, and Lucy fell right smack into that category. The future was something that scared her; Lucy's biggest fear was being forgotten. Going away to college brought it out in here more than anything else.

Angrily, she scribbled down meaningless lies, like that ones her parents had assured her, on those stupid blindingly white cards. Seemingly friendly phrases such as "thanks for the gift," and "I'm so glad you came" had never been laced with so much venom and contempt. Her friends and families were just willing to let her go thousands of miles away for them to forget about her, throwing her out like yesterday's garbage! Lucy regarded every single one of them as filthy traitors, and her parents especially. How could they all let go of her so easily? The party had been the first step in doing it, she knew so, and she didn't want to let them take anymore of them, either. Saying hello to college and the rest of her life was one thing, but saying goodbye to the world she knew was the scary part.

"I can't take this anymore!" Lucy spat out through gritted teeth. It took all of her self-control not to rip every one of those little folded white monsters to shreds, and they knew. They sat there, pretending to be innocent, silently mocking her. Those cards were damned messengers of evil, and she refused to write another! Abruptly, she stood, just in time for her mother to walk in. Lucy's mom was wearing a pair of simple dark jeans paired with an untucked white button-up shirt. Her feet were bare against the cold tile of the kitchen floor, and she looked plain exhausted.

"What's wrong?" Her mother asked with concern in her eyes.

"Nothing Mom," Lucy replied meekly. "I just got up to get a drink."
How could she speak what she felt? It would upset her mother. That was something she knew she couldn't, even if she wanted to. Mrs. Carrow was a driving force in her families life, as well as a respected one.

"Alright," the older woman said, her gaze traveling to the stack of unfinished thank-you cards. "You really should finish those, you know."

Even though the cards embodied everything she hated and feared, Lucy sat back down, picked up her BIC pen, and started to write more false messages of thanks, all signed with the same "Thanks again, Lucy Carrow."