Teaser Tuesday [2] #thecraved

Why would you do that? The spinet is mine, you told me! It was for this room, but it was mine! Just because you have other children doesn’t mean you let me get brushed under the carpet like dust, forgotten about while pests,” she spat the word through clenched teeth, hissing, spit spraying out in microscopic drops--”go through the things I prize. My life.”
Norah Camberlo looked at her daughter, pleasant and adoring expressions done with, her forehead pulling together. “The spinet is ours. We share in the music. The house has been so quiet with you gone. You have not, at all, been forgotten. We’ve missed you horribly. Your sister wanted to sit on the stool because she wanted to channel her big sister.”
It isn’t right.” Spoken in a childish voice, unsure. Mallory felt her hair, bristly ends sticking out of her bun. She yanked the elastic out, letting the damaged mane fall down like straw, bristly ends scratching her chin.
“Not right? The not right thing is giving up your childhood for an instrument. I know that adapting to being with other people was more difficult than you would ever be willing to admit to us. You are obsessed. It isn’t healthy. You don’t treat others like human, and you focus solely on that.” Cocking her head, she offered a meeting point, halfway between her desperation for normalcy, and her daughter, who was already farther away than imagined. “You father and I have talked for a very long time. We want you to speak with a professional because we think you have Asperger’s.”
Mallory’s fishy eyes narrowed at her mother. “I am NOT crazy.” Her mother opened her mouth to speak, but Mallory gave a look that lacked sanity, despite her argument. She, she just couldn’t take that. The idea of judgments from the people who never looked at her.
She walked out, and clomped up the stairs, not thinking that she would wake the other girls. She stepped into her tiny room and turned on the light. A figure was on the bed.
For the fist moment Mallory gasped until she saw her follow-up prodigy on the bed, a strained look on her childish face, sitting criss-cross-applesauce.
“What are you doing here?”