Pointing Fingers

After few days, Jane began to become worried. How long was this going to carry on? How long would her mother be gone? She wanted her back now. Now. What exactly was taking so long? What were they doing with her? Jane had asked her father to see her mother time and time again, but he claimed that she wasn't aloud visitors.. or she was busy.. Jane didn't accept that. She didn't accept any of this. It wasn't right.Any of it. Her brother claimed that their mom was "crazy" and didn't deserve to see Jane anyways. She had no idea why he was so angry with her. Like he blamed her for all of this. He shouldn't. But he did, and there was no changing that. He started to rub off on Jane. She became angry. With everyone. Everything. She demanded her way and wouldn't settle for anything less. Which was ok, because she always got it. She had learned how to control everything and everyone around her. The only person she didn't lose her temper with was her sister. She was a getaway. Being with her had become better than dancing. In fact, it was better than dancing. Jane's world revolved around that little freckle- faced girl, and she was fine with it. But when she wasn't with her, nothing was good enough. No one was right. She wasn't right. Looking for a reason this was happening. She settled on one conclusion; she wasn't good enough.