“Sarah!” a woman’s voice bellowed. “Where the hell are you, you brat?”
Sarah sat in her room, playing with a little doll that her grandmother gave her when she was little. It was small and the hair were long strips of black yarn.
When she heard her mother’s voice, she flinched. She wouldn’t have said anything, but she knew better than to keep quiet.
“I’m in my room, mother,” she said in a whisper, but loud enough so her mother could hear her in the hallway.
All the sudden, her door threw open, and Isabella stood in the entrance. Her face was red as if she were fuming.
“And why is it,” she said in controlled anger, “that you are playing with that stupid little doll, when I am doing all of the work in the house, hmm?”
“I... thought I was done with chores for the day...” Sarah said softly.
Isabella’s eyes only narrowed. “Maybe if your daddy were here, but is he?”
Sarah looked down, shaking her head slightly.
“Hmm,” Isabella mumbled, “then maybe you should’ve thought twice when you made friends with those gross disgusting ORIGINALS.” Her blonde hair flashed in the sunlight that beamed through the window. “Maybe if you didn’t INTRODUCE THE SAME ORIGINALS IN THIS HOUSE, then your FATHER would STILL BE HERE!”
“Mommy!” Sarah almost cried. “I already said I was sorry! Please, don’t blame me!”
“‘Sorry’ doesn’t solve our problem, does it?” Isabella growled. “Is that going to bring daddy to life?”
A stray tear dripped down Sarah’s cheek.
“Oh, don’t cry,” she snapped. “You’re almost eight now. Grow up.”
“Mommy...” her daughter said in a more calm tone, “I didn’t mean to... I swear... I didn’t know how bad doing that was....”
“Is APOLOGIZING going to bring him to LIFE, Sarah?”
This time she stared at the ground, shaking her head softly. Sarah hoped her mother wouldn’t see her tears. They were about to pour down her cheeks any minute. The moment her mother left, she knew she was going to break down and cry.
This guilt she felt, the horrible guilt that weighed down her insides, made her feel so nauseous. Her stomach hurt so bad that she barely ate. And now she was becoming very pale and skinny.
“Then I want you to do the dishes, wash the clothes, and make dinner,” Isabella instructed.
“But... mommy... I don’t know how to do that stuff....”
“You’ll figure it out.”
“It’s... it’s almost eight, though, mother... It’s almost nighttime... Don’t I have to be in bed by nightfall..?”
“You’re almost eight,” Isabella repeated. “You can deal with a couple hours of sleep just like your mommy. Now get to work.”
“But mommy....”
“May I remind you that your father is DEAD? Dead because of YOU? A stupid child. Completely idiotic.” Isabella looked into Sarah’s eyes, her irises blazing with anger. “YOU killed him.”
“No! I didn’t!” Sarah cried. “Mommy, you don’t understand! I didn’t kill him!”
“YOU stabbed him all over his stomach, chest, and thighs.”
“Mommy, please, I didn’t!”
“YOU POISONED him with magic, spells, made him DROWN in HIS OWN BLOOD!”
Sarah dropped her doll as she covered her ears, heart pounding with madness. Tears poured down her cheeks as she rocked back and forth, wondering how she deserved this. What she did to get her loving mother to hate her. Her mother that was a wonderful person, caring, kind. Now she hated her. Now she believed that Sarah killed her own father. The one she cherished. The one she loved.
“YOU KILLED HIM, SARAH! I KNOW YOU DID!”
“Stop it!” Sarah cried. “Stop!”
“YOU MURDERER!” Isabella’s voice became lower, distorted, growling like a wolf. This wasn’t her mother anymore. It didn’t sound like her. It was the voice of a demon. Something that poisoned Sarah’s memories, yes. Because her mother never acted this way. Never. She loved Sarah, right? “MURDERER! TRAITOR! MURDERER!”
“Stop!” The words never came out. They got lost somewhere in her throat. And she felt like she was drowning in goo. Sticky, black, suffocating goo.
Opening her eyes, she realized she was sinking into the floor. Like quicksand. And there was no escape.
“Mommy!” Sarah choked, inhaling poison. “Mommy, help!”
“You’re safe,” a quiet voice said, whispering. It sounded like a young boy. Quiet, calm. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. Hush, my gem.”
Sarah reached out of the floor, screaming. “Help me! Please!”
Something grasped her hand and pulled her out of the darkness.
ns 15.158.61.23da2
