parrish vanderbilt. d2. fin.

What is your worth?

Worth. Worthy. Potential. Talented.

Parrish Vanderbilt is a boy born with a guillotine of pressure built above his head, waiting to scar him foever. Richness means nothing anymore, besides letting kids like him receive everything he's ever wanted. The world was so small long ago, where it was just him, his parents, his brothers, and the servants. Everything was about the Vanderbilts. The walls, the halls, the balls, and everything else. Their name was powerful in District Two, powerful enough to make families cower under their wealth.

Wealth only can get a man so far.

Parrish could feel the guillotine dropping.

Early years spent in this bubble of silver and gold, playing pretend with the richest families in Two as if he were really making friends. Wealth meant nothing to a kid other than receiving whatever he wanted. Spoiled to the core, he received every gift he asked for. A pony, a dog, a cat, the big castle blocks he saw in a shop store, and even playsets made of pure crystal found in Two's mines. The rarest of finds in Two's mines, but as a young child, he never knew what power his name held.

The game of wealth is played under the assumption of things will turn out right in the end, but Parrish was unaware of the real game. The first time he learned of this game, it was the first different person he befriended. A little boy who played with him on weekdays when his father was busy. The maid's son, his new best friend of the week. Building the largest block town that they could, everything had gone perfectly fine for them, until the other by knocked down the town hall.

Parrish was upset and yelled at the top of his little lungs, with a silver spoon in his tongue. The riches in his blood adding up to his meltdown of proportions. His father had heard and told the other boy to get his mother, who was immediately fired on the spot. Left to starve under the lack of wor she could do. Years later, Parrish would find out they died from starvation. The cost of a name sentencing people to lose everything, despite not being old enough to understand what he was doing.

A few years had passed since his last incident, where the cost of his name hurt others. His head spinning under the stress of watching what he could say over the words he hears in the halls of his own home. Brat. Spoiled. Monster. Everything came back to his shoulders, the way he moved, talked, be. He could see the way others reacted to him. Despite this pressure of perfectionism, he befriended the first person who showed him outside of his bubble.

A kid from across the mansion, in the servants quarters after Parrish eavesdropped on one of the chefs of the Vanderbilt mansion. They bonded over books, something he wasn't allowed to see until he was older. The world opened up just a bit more because of this commoner as his father would call them. The relief of something more than just this stressful bubble of wealth he's been in since birth. Once he's old enough, he understands what was weird about their friendship and why his father didn't want him to hang out with a servant's kid.

Commoners were nothing more than a tool to a Vanderbilt.

The word rattles in his head.

Tool.

Friends.

That had been the first time he disagreed with his father, which left him in a new spot of fighting for himself. A fight for himself that he knew he would lose.

Books became second nature to him. After his father found him hiding a book under his pillow, the floodgates of knowledge seemed to open up to him. The library which had been off limits was open to him now. Days spent picking up books of all sorts, he spent all of his time trying to impress his father. Have the approval that he craved for so long as a kid. All he's ever wanted was approval.

The taste of something more than disappointment he shoulders onto himself. Everything was his fault. He knew that. Parrish knew he wasn't good enough since the day his first friend died of starvation. Wealth wasn't worth anything if he couldn't survive on his own, not his father's money. Pleasantly, he spoke to all people, servants and others alike. Soon enough, he was the most liked of the Vanderbilt children due to his apologetic and polite nature. Anger still blossomed from his heart, but he had enough of a cool head as he grew into his teen years that he could comprehend the heat.

Once he was old enough, the Vanderbilt name would have to be successful. His father had pressured him to read more and more about career training and even setting up private lessons with specialists before their teen years. Exceptional at times, Parrish excelled over his brothers who got the wealthier end of the stick. The family business, which has been around since before the rebellion. Instead, Parrish was pushed into the DIvergent Academy, where his father shoveled money into the academy as if it were a bank.

He was not the person everyone thought him to be.

Excelling in training meant nothing when talent is something people are born with. Potential found in their hearts and pulled through to success. SInce he was a child, he was told he needed to do better. He needed to be better. His father was the only person he ever wanted to be noticed by, but now he's regretting that want. Instead, his father shovels money into a school which gets him by. The secret held over his tongue, waiting for the blade of a guillotine to drop, cutting away the tool he had to reveal everything.

Except, he knew he needed that wealth.

Parrish Vanderbilt wasn't enough for Divergent academy.

He knew what the price of his own mistakes were, the amount of cash it took to silence a simple mistake he made. A threat looming over his head of what could break away and shatter the glass mind he carries. The patience which seemed infinite could be crushed within moments. Endlessly, he plays this game with himself, trying to break free from this Vanderbilt wealth. This secret held behind smiles and checks of enormous amounts in the faces of those who knew.

A secret that he could never tell.

Instead, he smiles behind the wealth, pretending everything was normal. The perfect whites of his pearly teeth glistening as he pretends he has some sort of potential in holding secrets from the others. Parrish was good enough to compete with others apart of the Divergent Academy. Everything he does is set with such grace and poise as every move is pre-planned ahead. The way he speaks and the knowledge he carries balanced on his chest as if he were better than he really believed himself to be.

His father may buy Parrish's way into the academy, but he pushes himself to take every opportunity that he could. Vanderbilts take whatever they can. He knew where he stood in this academy, but none of that meant he couldn't play the game, after all he wanted to become a divergent to make his name known for once. Away from the dreaded Vanderbilt name built from a legacy.

Parrish didn't need that legacy.

He could do it on his own.

Except, he knew who he truly was.

Just another rich boy, trying to play career.