“No thanks to you.” I know I shouldn’t have taken her bait—I should have just bit my tongue and walked away… but I didn’t. I moved to walk away, hoping maybe I could make it back to my room in one piece.
“You won’t win, my dear. I hope you know that.”
One moment she was down the hall and the next, she was standing right behind me, hissing in my ear. I was starting to think that this was common practice here in the Betwixt. But where Death made me shiver, Maurielle made my stomach drop.
I spun around as fast as I could, not trusting her for an instant. She towered over me in her oversized puffy dress and golden hair piled on top of her head.
“I’m not trying to win at anything,” I informed her, proud that I could keep my voice steady as my heart continued to pound frantically. “I’m just trying to survive.”
She scoffed at me—apparently I wasn’t good enough for a full laugh. “It’s a shame he didn’t leave you out there to rot.”
“Yeah,” the sarcasm just kept coming and I knew it would get me killed one of these days. “Darn that Mr. Death… such a gentleman that he is.”
“I will repeat: you won’t win.”
“Is everything a game with you people?” I lifted my arms up in utter confusion, my voice rising ever so slightly. “Win what? Death? Trust me, lady: I’m not trying. You can have him.”
It was as if she didn’t even hear me. The sneer on her face just deepened, twisting her otherwise beautiful face.
We just continued to stare at one another… I’m not sure why. It was as if we were both waiting for the other one to say something or do something—either throw a punch or walk away—but neither of us had the balls to do it. Finally tired of the faceoff and feeling more awkward than tough, I turned and marched down the hall to the safety of my room.
I felt safe as the door clicked shut behind me.
“I am competing with a coward it would seem.”
I screamed at the sound of her voice. Dropping the books, I ignored the pain shooting up my leg from one of them finding my toes as I spun around to face Maurielle who had somehow found her way into the middle of my room—my sanctuary.
“Get out of my room!” I was beginning to sound like a bratty teenager.
“Oh,” she cooed and puckered her lips into a frown. “Or what?”
I stood in silence, fuming. I hated being mocked especially by a witch like her…
“What can a human girl like you possibly do to me?”
I wanted to threaten her with the lord of the manor. I knew he held sway over her and I was beginning to realize that he was more on my side than he was on hers, the so called “mistress” of the manor. But part of me didn’t want to stoop so low… the other part of me was afraid of what would happen if I did mention Death to her.
“They may dress you up in fine gowns and brush your hair and paint your face… but you’re still nothing but a little mouse pretending to be something that you're not.”
I watched her as she lifted her long nailed hand to my shoulder. With the flick of her wrist she tore at my sleeve, pulling it away from the collar of the dress, revealing my freckled shoulder.
“See?” She tilted her head to the side as she looked at me. “How quickly the façade falls away.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
She lifted her brow but remained silent—she must have been stunned by the audacity that was me opening my mouth, getting myself into trouble. And yet I continued:
“It’s better to have the façade fall away to be seen for who you really are…” Looking up at her, I matched her glare. “I have nothing to hide… I’m not sure the same can be said about you, mistress.”
Hissing a scream, she picked me up with unimaginable strength and threw me across the room. I was so surprised by what had just happened that I wasn’t aware of my impact against my wardrobe until I heard it rattling behind me, threatening to teeter over and crash to the floor on top of me. I shook my head, trying to rid my vision of the stars that were dancing in front of my eyes right then. I could see Maurielle marching closer to me, her face bright red in fury, but my body did nothing to move, to try to fight back.
“A fake!” she continued to scream as she pulled me back up from the ground. “You’re nothing more than a fake!”
She continued to scream frantically—about what, exactly, I still wasn’t sure—slapping my face with each word.
“I won’t let you have him!” I could hear her voice from beyond the pain I was feeling. “He’s mine!”
Something in me seemed to catch up with the moment and my eyes were able to focus in on my attacker. Without even stopping to think about what I was doing, I threw my fist out, crushing Maurielle’s perfectly swooped nose.
She reared back in pain, screaming and clutching at her face. Crimson red blood stained the front of her otherwise pristine silver gown.
“What have you done to me?” she tried to scream but her nose plugged with blood just made it sound comical—it took everything in me not to burst out laughing.
I just stood there in a strange mixture of awe and horror and what I had just done. I looked down at my fist that had the tiniest bit of blood on it--her blood.
“I—“ I began to stutter, trying to figure out what I really had just done. Looking up from my fist to Maurielle’s face that was already beginning to bruise, I declared somewhat proudly, “I broke your nose.”
Her eyes narrowed at the sound of my voice; they darkened as they focused on me once more. She marched one, two, three steps forward and planted her hand across my cheek. The sound of the strike was almost loud enough to make the room shake in its echo.
I stood there, cupping my cheek that was still burning from her slap, her blood staining my face. She stood there in triumph, her head held high despite her twisted nose.
And to think… a moment before I had been so proud of me for standing up for myself.
As she continued to stare at me, I watched as her eyes slowly journeyed down from my face to the string of pearls around my neck. Her eyes grew wide for a moment before she lifted her hand once more, this time tangling her fingers around the string of pearls.
“Did he give this to you?” She tried to make her voice deep and smooth as it always sounded when she wasn’t screaming… she failed.
I didn’t move.
“Your silence condemns you,” she whispered as she tightened her grip on the necklace.
I stood still for a moment, expecting her to walk away, but as I felt the air leave my lungs, I began to panic. Clawing at her hands, I tried to push away from her. I kicked her shins and tried to scream for help but it was no use—all I could see was the pure hatred in her eyes. She wanted me dead. The Forsaken didn’t do the job… so now she needed to get her hands dirty.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Doing NaNoWriMo while working 40 hours a week is hard! I'm not even 5,000 words in and it's already Day 2... Fail...
a.r.w.
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