"Do you know how much you're paying to be there?"

Of course she knew, looking at her shoes. They were pretty shoes - very nice ones. She was glad she'd worn them. Something good to look at, a pattern to lose herself in as she tried to drown out the sound of her parents raging at her.

About university, this time, but really it could be anything. Insert subject here, and they would rant.

Lots of spirals on these shoes. Lots of colours, too -

Oh. They were looking at her. Expecting a response.

"Yes."

It seemed to be the right answer. Both parents looked at one another, then back at her.

Maybe they were giving up on her.

At least this was quiet.

"It's your future you're wasting - "

Ah, an old favourite, back to the old record, the same as it ever was. Every argument (that wasn't right; arguments had sides, had at least some sort of response, and that was far from the case here) ended up back here. That it was her life she was ruining, her future she was wasting. That it was her choice. That she was only hurting herself.

If that were the case - if they really believed it - then surely they wouldn't bother. Surely she could just be left to her own devices. Left to do her own thing, to make her own mistakes.

Nothing would ever be good enough.

She smiled kindly. "I know. I'll go and study."

The next argument would be that she never went out, and she'd never meet anyone, she'd never have a family.

She would never win.