Solana's Trials

"I-I'm sorry I'm not perfect..." Solana sat in the Olive Jungle, using her arms for support as her tears dripped onto the ground. Mimi, her Plusle, stood next to her and hugged her arm, but she paid her no heed; she was lost too deep in the memories. The memories of her father and mother had come up during her training, stopping her dead in her tracks. Her arms had nearly failed and made her fall to the ground during her push ups, but she had managed to catch herself. It was for naught, though, as she crumpled to the ground, pulling her knees to her chest as the tears streamed down her face. The Ranger did her best to keep herself in the present moment, but the memories dragged her down and into the abyss. --- "Mommy, Daddy!" Solana ran inside the house as a new day dawned, a Pachirisu sitting on her shoulder. The Pokemon chittered happily and nuzzled its cheek against hers, getting a giggle out of the little girl. She walked up to her father and tugged on his shirt. "Daddy! Lookie! I made a friend!" She took the Pachirisu in her hands and held it up to her father. He turned around, a startled look on his face for a moment before it became dark. Solana blinked and took a step back. She gave a loud cry as he slapped her straight across the face, causing her to drop the Pachirisu. The Pokemon gave him an angry look, but he stomped on its tail, getting a loud squeal out of it and it ran away. Solana rubbed her cheek and looked up at her father, her red eyes wide with confusion. "A-Aren't you proud of me? I made a friend on my own..." "How many times have I told you not to leave the house?! You're not allowed to interact with those filthy common Pokemon! How would your Prinpulp feel if he knew you were meeting with those lesser Pokemon?" The man's blue eyes were stern as he glared down at his daughter, now holding the front of her shirt. "You're absolutely filthy!" She looked down at her nightgown and saw that there was a little bit of dirt on the back, but it wasn't that bad. And the Prinpulp... She shook her head a bit as her eyes widened and tried to step back, but Kinsley's grip on her was as tight as iron. He smacked her other cheek and she cried out again, falling to her knees as tears spilled out of her eyes. "Never do that again! If you do, the repercussions will be much worse! Do you understand?!" "Y-Yes Daddy..." Solana muttered through her hands as she wiped her tears away. He let go of her and she fell to the ground, hugging her knees to her chest. "Now go get cleaned up and report to your mother." "Yes Daddy..." The little girl stood up and walked, on shaking legs, to her room to retrieve clothes for her bath, the tears still streaming from her eyes. --- "Look Mommy, I finished!" Solana, now eight years old, smiled as she held up a finished cross stitch to her mother, her eyes glowing with pride. The Pachirisu was riddled with mistakes, colors going every which way and dropped stitches everywhere. It was a complete mess, but she was still proud of it. However, her mother sighed and shook her head. "Solana, that's not very good," she said and Solana blinked, looking back at the finished piece. "It needs to be perfect. Just like you." "B-But I just started. A-And I'm not..." "But you should be. Now start over and don't talk to me until it's perfect." Pandora stood up and walked out of the room, holding her long skirts up as she exited the room. Solana looked down at the cross stitch and her eyes filled with tears. She had tried her hardest and did everyday. Why were her parents so mean to her? She did everything they said and to the best of her ability, but none of it was good enough for them. The little girl just sighed and picked up a new canvas, taking new thread and pulling it through the white cloth, determined to get it right this time. ---- "No, Solana!" The ten-year-old cringed as she heard her mother's sharp voice cry out. She sighed as she looked at the single book on the ground, then back up to her mother. Those familiar red eyes bored into her own, hard and unmoving. "Pick it up and do it again. The ball is coming up soon and your steps must be perfect. Do you understand?" "Yes Mother," Solana said as she bent down and picked the book up, the other three crashing down as Pandora gave another exasperated sigh. The girl flinched as she saw her mother walk over and picked them up. "I'm sorry..." "Apologies will get you nowhere in life, Solana. If you apologies for everything, people will walk all over you. Be perfect and you will never have to apologise. Is that hard to understand?" "No, Mother." Solana picked up the last book and stood up as straight as possible. Her mother snatched the book back and placed it on the bottom, then the other three on top. "Now the waltz. From the top." --- "No, no, no!" Kinsley dug his fingernails into his daughter's arm, the twelve-year-old only flinching lightly. "Three-four time, not four-four! It's an eighth note, not a quarter note! Why is it so hard for you to understand?!" "I'm sorry, Father." Solana's eyes glazed over as she dropped her head, lowering her flute a little bit. The grip on her arm tightened and she winced a little bit more. He cupped his other hand under her chin and jerked her head up so their eyes were locked. She licked her lips and did her best to remain expressionless, but his glare deepened as he tightened her grip on her jaw. "How many times do we have to repeat: apologies will get you nowhere? You. Must. Be. Perfect!" He repeated the words that she had heard so many times and she nodded as best she could. He tightened his grip a little bit more. "If you don't get it right this time, you won't be able to hold that flute for another month. Then you'll only have a week after you're healed to get it right." "Yes, Father." With those words, he dropped his grip on his daughter. She looked at the blood his fingernails had drawn but did nothing as she put the flute back to her lips, doing her best to not tremble and trill the notes for fear that he would send her to the hospital again. --- "I'm sorry I'm not perfect..." she said again, talking to the mental image of her parents that her mind had formed. They both glared at her and the ghost of her father kicked her, getting little more than a whimper out of the Ranger. She looked up and reached out to them, but they turned and walked away, leaving her alone in the dust and heat of the jungle.