Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
I jabbed my house key into the lock, then made a beeline for the kitchen, determined to get in and out without my mother knowing I was ever here. I needed a coffee and a clean change of clothes. Mother would be at work for another five hours, so I had plenty of time. However, any time I stepped under this roof, anxiety gnawed on my nerves.
I walked over to the coffee pot, then picked it up and tilted it. The contents swished side to side heavily. Good, there was at least half a pot left. She shouldn’t notice any missing coffee. My braid thumped against my lower back as I turned to see if there were any to-go cups on the dish rack.
I froze, and my eyes zeroed in on a bit of folded parchment on the counter.
Zellie, where have you been!? It’s been days since I last brushed your hair. Do not leave after you’ve read this. I’ll know.
Mother
Disgust roiled my gut. Right, brushed my hair . I snorted. Mother has used that phrase since I was an infant. It’s ridiculous she doesn’t just call it what it was.
I wrapped my arms around myself. I fucking knew it was a mistake coming here. Lalita and I are close enough in size. Why didn’t I just borrow clothes from her? The paper gave easily as I crumpled it in my fist, then hurled it across the room. The soft swish of paper connecting against the window next to the table did nothing to quell my anxiety. My brain fed the negative emotions as I panicked.
The subtle manipulation cut deeply, and not even the frost coating the organ in my chest could protect it from bleeding.
Screw this. I am not sitting around waiting for her to come home and forcefully subject me to torture. I snatched my backpack from where it hung over the back of the dining room chair, but it was too late.
Metal jangled, then the front door swung open.
My mother stomped over the threshold. The wind howled through the open door and leaves skittered across the wooden floorboards.
“Oh good,” Mother said. I jumped as she clapped her hands once, then continued speaking. “I see you can follow instructions, after all.”
All the air fled the room through the entrance to the house, the change in pressure slamming the door. My ears popped painfully as I took several steps backward. Thankfully, years of self preservation allowed me to halt my movements.
“Hello, Mother. Did you have a good day at work?” I placed my hands behind my back and wrung my fingers. “I thought you didn’t get home until four?”
My mother sighed heavily, then threw her purse onto the couch. It bounced, then fell to its side, spilling half of its contents onto the floor. She rolled her eyes at the mess and stomped toward me. I fought the urge to flee, grounding my feet into my boots. Mother reached up, then scoffed as she attempted to flatten the wispy curls against my head.
“Really, Rapunzel, is it too difficult to make yourself look presentable? To think you’ve been walking around all day looking like this,” Mother said and curled her lip.
A familiar heaviness settled into my stomach. Nothing I ever did would be good enough for her. She brushed by me and headed toward the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “Get out of my sight. Do something about that rat’s nest you call hair. I expect it to be down and detangled by the time I come to your room.”
I balled my hands into fists, forcefully pushing my magic back before it exploded out of me. “Yes, Mother,” I mumbled, then sprinted up the stairs to my room.
I sighed as I pulled the hair tie from the bottom of my braid. My hair wouldn’t be such a fucking mess if you’d let me cut it. I worked my fingers through my golden strands, undoing all the hard work it took to form the complex braid.
My motions were quick and jerky as I rushed to finish the task. I was just loosening the last fold of braid as Mother’s silhouette darkened my doorway. She tsked, then snatched the brush near my elbow on the vanity.
We didn’t speak as she immediately set to work, eager as ever to get her fix. Her overly long nails scraped my scalp as she yanked on a handful of hair painfully. I watched my reflection, never allowing my gaze to veer from my face. My eyes watered as she tugged the brush violently through my strands.
“You need to take better care of your hair, Rapunzel. It feels like you haven’t washed your hair in weeks!” She shrieked. Actually, I washed it yesterday at Lalita’s, but it wasn’t worth mentioning it out loud.
“The health of your hair directly correlates to the prosperity of your magic. Doesn’t that school teach you anything?” She sneered. “Don’t you want your mother to live a long life?”
“Yes, Mother,” I responded automatically.
The brush halted as it caught on a small knot. My mother hissed, then pain radiated inside my skull as she repeatedly whacked me on the top of the head with the flat of the brush. When she finally stopped, I knew I had a concussion. My pulse thudded in my ears as I tried to focus on the words spewing past her lips.
“Why do you make me hurt you, darling?” Mother crooned, the genuine smile spreading on her face sickly sweet.
Finally, soft purple light emanated from my hair, the lavender sparks barely visible through my double vision. My mother dropped my hair, the heavy weight of it thwacking against the floor and the legs of my chair. She lunged for the coffee mug sitting beside me, then promptly dumped the contents into my small wastebasket.
“Hey! I was drinking that.” The words flew from my mouth before I could recall them.
Mother narrowed her eyes and dangled the cup from her finger. “I. Don’t. Care. Speak to me like that again, and I’ll lock you in your room for a month straight.”
“I’m sorry, Mother. I-“
“Shut up and let me enjoy this. It’s the least you can do after being such an annoying presence since you were born.”
I pinched my lips together tightly as Mother continued to drone on, the thunder booming outside thankfully drowning out some of it. Metal glinted in my peripheral vision as she removed the athame from its sheath poking out of her pocket. The one moment of happiness I had during this fucking ritual was the reminder that my mother had no idea of the significance and history of the knife she wielded.
Dad gave it to her as a wedding gift. Soft light glinted off the triangular double blade of the athame knife. My eyes traced the sharp tapered point before gliding to the twisted Apache tear handle pulsing with powerful magic as it molded to her palm.
I didn’t fight her as her nails dug into my wrist closest to her. My skin stung as the blade parted it and blood welled immediately. Mother held the coffee mug under the stream of blood as it flowed out of me until it was nearly halfway full. Her entire focus was on the crimson liquid as she tipped her head back and tilted the contents into her mouth.
She slammed the empty, blood-stained mug onto my vanity, then pranced to the door. “Don’t put too much care into cleaning the cut. You know I love when a scar forms. They make an excellent reminder not to forget about your poor mother cooped up in this house all alone.” She said and slammed the door behind her.
I flinched as if her words were a physical blow. My brain throbbed as I stumbled to the door and tested the ornate silver handle. It moved slightly, and my heart leaped into my throat. Metal scraped on the other side as my mother inserted the skeleton key and locked it from the outside. Her cackle faded as she walked further away from my room.
I backed away from the door slowly on shaking legs, then crawled onto my bed. I can’t keep doing this. I refuse to keep being treated like her personal blood supply. The abuse has to stop.
I stretched and grabbed my phone. If Lalita finds out what happened, she will be furious, and I can’t risk my mother harming her.
The thing in my chest pressed against my ribs gently, as if coaxing me to remember. I needed a distraction desperately. Jax’s broody visage popped into my mind. Before I could think better of it, I typed out a quick message to Jax.
“Can we put aside our mutual hatred for a bit? We’re partnered for the history assignment, and the sooner we complete it, the better.”
I bit my lip as I watched the message hover in limbo as it waited for a signal before sending, then closed my eyes. It was impossible to determine how much time had passed when something buzzed near my ear. I opened my eyes, then squinted as my phone lit up on my pillow, highlighting Jax’s response.
“Meet me in the library tomorrow, pet.”