THIRTEEN: GERTRUDE
The dizziness of emotion I relive has crumbled away, leaving a white-lipped ocean of turmoil. It begins the minute the Likens' girls plough into my house after their second day, giggling amongst themselves, poisonous words upon the older sister's despicable, lying lips. Wide-eyed and with bated breath, she peers at me over thin, impossibly dark eyelashes before mutely ducking her brunette head. "Hello, ma'am," she whispers, scuffling the toe of her shoe against the ashen carpet. "Sorry we came home so late, we just –"
Dark, anticipating eyes meet burning onyx ones – she meets my furious gaze, inclining her chin a bit so she looks me dead in the eye, and I rise from my seat, my chest stirring slightly as she cowers, anticipation rife in her expression.
"Just?" I pry, and the two sisters exchange a glance, each as unsure as the other. Around them, my oldest boy Johnny, as well as his sisters Shirley and Marie, lounge, their curiosity dark and hungry. Stephanie busies herself, lunging for the kettle to prepare a hot drink for herself, her blush evidence of her unwillingness to get involved. Paula, with Denny swaddled in her thick arms, smirks slightly, peering at her baby brother under a guise of polite concern.
I nod toward the bag clenched in Sylvia's trembling hand. "What's that?"
"W-we just bought some candy from down the road, Gertie," Jenny answers lowly, her face drained of blood. She too ducks her head, a mirror image of her sister, tears pooling in her eyes, on the brink of overflow.
"Candy?" I sneer, snatching the takeaway bag from her sister's limp grip. "You two probably stole it, didn't you? Where would two fucking brats like you earn money?"
"We didn't steal it," Sylvia answers lowly, her tone polite but laced with incredible fury. "I'd traded in some bottles down the road, you know, the corner store."
"Honest, it's all she did, Gertie." Jenny's voice falters when she meets my burning gaze, and she ducks her head again, shame evident on her features.
I shake my head, lip pulled back in unfathomable rage. "I don't allow theft in my house, Sylvia," I snap, causing the young girl to step back in alarm, wide-eyed and terrified. "Didn't your parents teach you nothing?"
Infuriated at the lack of response from the pair, I throw the sweet bag at their feet, watching in vicious pleasure when the protective plastic bursts at their feet.
"How dare you come into my house and steal shit," I hiss, almost nose to nose with the girls burning a deep scarlet. "Now clean that shit up."
It is Sylvia who obliges, gathering her composure and strength, to place the scattered lollies and place them back in the burst plastic. The material is clutched in her venomous grip, her knuckles whitened with the very effort. Deliberately, as if to spite me further, she picks her way to the bin and dumps the confectionery inside, closing the lid with a resounding thump.
I wrestle the urges, deep and writhing within me, instead choosing to glare potently at the helpless girl. I sigh through my nostrils, calling peace to mind, and order her and her brat sister into their makeshift room. At their absence, a vicious relief floods over me, a lit cigarette poised between my lips. Calm washes over my possessed body like a white-lipped froth, and I turn to keep my composure, smoke pluming out of my mouth, fresh and feverish.