For #2, as someone who DID find out her parent was into some... let's just say heavy shit..
Well, you're asking from the parent's perspective, aren't you? In my real life situation, my mother was so damn convinced her group was doing the right thing, that it didn't even occur to her that it wasn't. Sort of like how religious cults sweep away their member's basis of logic and rationality, and replace it with zeal and fanaticism. From her perspective, nothing was wrong with bringing her children into that world, because she just couldn't see that we were exactly the type of children her group was fighting against.
I know I'm being fairly euphemistic. It's not an exact parallel to the situation you're trying to set up, Andre. But consider that the parent is physically and emotionally unable to recognize that their group is against their child's group. That they just can't see through the logic of it, no matter how screamingly obvious it is to everyone.
Kind of like when a kid is gay, and their parents still go into denial. But way more complicated. Can your parent just refuse to see that the child is in the other group? Even when it smacks them in the face?
In my case, my mother was too far gone into the other side. I was 12, and I already knew that. I knew I was on my own for getting out of there; before the rest of the group realized I wasn't one of them, that I'd never be one of them.
Just consider those layers for your story. The parent can just blithely assume the youth would follow in their footsteps (as most parents do). And the youth can be plotting something entirely different the whole time.
Religion, friendship, power, faith, community... they all do very weird things to people, and sometimes they go wrong.
-----
For #1, I was that child. During that *points up*. My mother didn't notice. And I wasn't really dead inside -- I was disappearing in plain sight, on purpose. In my own calculated little way -- the more I spoke or interacted with them, the more dangerous it was.
I remember once taking a piece of white chalk and running it down my cheek -- it was the exact same color pale I was.
And I used to sneak through the dark at half past midnight and take a slice of bread from the fridge, and perhaps a sliver of cheese. Something they wouldn't notice. Something so I could eat, and stay strong, and stay focused on escape. It was dangerous, and as an adult, I cringe to think of a child, especially my own child, going through such lengths and duplicity to stay healthy.
But for your story, consider that other layer too -- that the kid is doing it on purpose. For what purpose, that depends on your story... but for me, it was safer.
And to all those who suggested you take your kid to the doctor when they act like that -- hell yes.
Assuming the kid will trust the doctor. I wouldn't have. They'd have been working for the people who would have brought me in -- the bad guys. There were no good guys in my life. Doctors are supposed to be, and as an adult, despite a healthy dose of skepticism about medical care replacing good parenting, I'd like to imagine doctors can be trusted.
It just depends on the circumstance. We were in a very, very small town. They quite literally did work for the bad guys. I was taken in, once, and I was never left alone with a doctor or a nurse or an aide -- and of course I kept my mouth shut, because what're you going to do?
Andre, consider if that visit with the doctor in your novel would put the kid in danger, especially if he/she is in a different group than his/her parent.
It sounds like an interesting storyline.
I know you've heard "use your imagination" one too many times, but one of these days, send me a PM. I'm genuinely curious why that doesn't work for you -- it comes so easily to me, putting myself in various other situations or places or emotional conundrums.
Then again, I had years of practice doing that as a teenager.
Good luck,
~ Anna
Well, you're asking from the parent's perspective, aren't you? In my real life situation, my mother was so damn convinced her group was doing the right thing, that it didn't even occur to her that it wasn't. Sort of like how religious cults sweep away their member's basis of logic and rationality, and replace it with zeal and fanaticism. From her perspective, nothing was wrong with bringing her children into that world, because she just couldn't see that we were exactly the type of children her group was fighting against.
I know I'm being fairly euphemistic. It's not an exact parallel to the situation you're trying to set up, Andre. But consider that the parent is physically and emotionally unable to recognize that their group is against their child's group. That they just can't see through the logic of it, no matter how screamingly obvious it is to everyone.
Kind of like when a kid is gay, and their parents still go into denial. But way more complicated. Can your parent just refuse to see that the child is in the other group? Even when it smacks them in the face?
In my case, my mother was too far gone into the other side. I was 12, and I already knew that. I knew I was on my own for getting out of there; before the rest of the group realized I wasn't one of them, that I'd never be one of them.
Just consider those layers for your story. The parent can just blithely assume the youth would follow in their footsteps (as most parents do). And the youth can be plotting something entirely different the whole time.
Religion, friendship, power, faith, community... they all do very weird things to people, and sometimes they go wrong.
-----
For #1, I was that child. During that *points up*. My mother didn't notice. And I wasn't really dead inside -- I was disappearing in plain sight, on purpose. In my own calculated little way -- the more I spoke or interacted with them, the more dangerous it was.
I remember once taking a piece of white chalk and running it down my cheek -- it was the exact same color pale I was.
And I used to sneak through the dark at half past midnight and take a slice of bread from the fridge, and perhaps a sliver of cheese. Something they wouldn't notice. Something so I could eat, and stay strong, and stay focused on escape. It was dangerous, and as an adult, I cringe to think of a child, especially my own child, going through such lengths and duplicity to stay healthy.
But for your story, consider that other layer too -- that the kid is doing it on purpose. For what purpose, that depends on your story... but for me, it was safer.
And to all those who suggested you take your kid to the doctor when they act like that -- hell yes.
Assuming the kid will trust the doctor. I wouldn't have. They'd have been working for the people who would have brought me in -- the bad guys. There were no good guys in my life. Doctors are supposed to be, and as an adult, despite a healthy dose of skepticism about medical care replacing good parenting, I'd like to imagine doctors can be trusted.
It just depends on the circumstance. We were in a very, very small town. They quite literally did work for the bad guys. I was taken in, once, and I was never left alone with a doctor or a nurse or an aide -- and of course I kept my mouth shut, because what're you going to do?
Andre, consider if that visit with the doctor in your novel would put the kid in danger, especially if he/she is in a different group than his/her parent.
It sounds like an interesting storyline.
I know you've heard "use your imagination" one too many times, but one of these days, send me a PM. I'm genuinely curious why that doesn't work for you -- it comes so easily to me, putting myself in various other situations or places or emotional conundrums.
Then again, I had years of practice doing that as a teenager.
Good luck,
~ Anna
