The Price Of Revenge

It wasn't until that next morning that I was demonstrably attacked by the twins. I came to think of it as if they'd needed the entire of the previous day to scheme over what they could say. I'd tried to push memories of Foxworth Hall out of my head, but I seemed to see its beauty no matter what I did. I looked out upon my own garden and imagined it as the vast, beautiful land I'd experienced in the dream. I told myself that all of it would pass in a few days.

I was sat in the back garden at the time – which I'd always found the perfect place to escape the house when an argument was in commence between the twins and my parents. This time there had been no argument. But still I was sat on the beautiful antique bench in the complete silence. It was another perfect day – as yesterday had been – warm and sunny, with not a cloud in sight in the beautiful blue sky. I remembered to myself the story of the bench – how I had seen it displayed proudly just outside a gardening store when Mom an I had gone to find me some new summer shoes, two years back. I commented on the bench – enraptured by its beauty as soon as I laid my eyes upon it – and my mother had agreed to its elegance. A week later the bench had appeared at this very spot, where it still stood, in our garden. My father had bought the bench as a surprise for me. I'd wondered why he'd ordered me to stay out of the house for the entire morning – it had all been so that the bench could be delivered to the house and I wouldn't have known about it.

As I smiled to myself, remembering how I'd stayed on the bench all that afternoon that day – it was then that the twins appeared, as if out of nowhere. I didn't notice them at first; I was almost lost in my own thoughts.

"Maybe we should warn everyone at school that innocent Catherine is actually an evil witch, Darren," Deidre had said, attracting my attention. Although not really knowing what she was talking about, I half-frowned at her comment. "Yes, evil Catherine has magical powers," Darren added.

I always got annoyed when they came out here to attack me – when I was sat alone in the garden, in my own silence, minding my own business. "What are you two talking about?" I asked, agitated by their incessant ignorance. Considering they were two years older than me, they always acted so much younger than I was – as if they were desperately trying to keep hold of their childhoods.

"You see into the past, fallen angel. You saw the house. We didn't even realize what you'd done at first. Until we saw the expression on Dad's face," Deidre announced, sounding fundamentally happy with the situation. Darren nodded his head, standing right next to her, in agreement. They both stood tall in front of me, looking so much stronger than I. 'Fallen angel' Deidre had just called me…why? What had I done?

"Deidre, dear thorn, what on earth are you talking about? What do you know about the house in my dream? And why should you call me 'fallen angel'?" I asked, almost as if quipping. I'd learnt my sarcasm and ignorant talk back was the only way I could agitate Deidre as she agitated me. I saw anger rise in her expression.

"Dear half-sister," she began, mocking me again. "Don't expect that you know more than I. You'll soon know that, for once, I am smarter than you. I know more than you. Darren and I know the house. I remember it. And you will never understand why Dad looked at you the way he did. But I will. And I shall never tell you. Neither will Darren. You will no longer be Dad's precious little girl. Now he will hate you for saying that name. Foxworth."

I was viciously stunned by Deidre's words – there was no possible way I could come back after what she had said – or so I thought. Her words had been both cruel and mysterious. Darren was smiling, almost laughing at me. "Oh dear," he said, falsely. "You've stung poor fallen angel." Deidre laughed at his quip, and so he followed suit.

I then came to realize what I should've before I let Deidre hurt me with her words. My darling half-sister would do anything to upset or annoy me in any possible way. And she'd love nothing more than to break my so treasured relationship with my father – just to make me unhappy. I knew that, deep down, she felt underestimated by me. As if I was trying to steal our father away. I would never do that – but she didn't see. I knew she must have been uncomfortable, having only one parent around, on a daily basis, when I had the two most wonderful parents…both under one roof.

And, because of this, I decided Deidre was just being pathetic, trying to stir up yet another argument. Normally, I would try to ignore her best I could. I wasn't particularly fond of argument – something which she welcomed with open arms. But this time something felt different, I felt as if it were my duty to defend myself and the house the claimed to know. What did she know about Foxworth Hall? Absolutely nothing. I knew that. She just wanted trouble – and, stupidly, I gave it to her.

"Deidre, it is not my fault that you so desperately crave to be me. To have the same relationship with our father that I do," I began, standing up and edging slightly closer to her, to show that I was not going to back down. Darren seemed to take a few steps back. He saw the anger I did in Deidre; and he looked slightly worried. Deidre's face reddened as I continued. "Also, it is not my fault that you cannot have your perfect life with both of your parents together and cherishing you, as I have," I added. My head was screaming at me to stop. Why was I tormenting my sister so? Revenge, perhaps.

"Perhaps if your mother hadn't have been so cruel and thought more about her family than her selfish self, you would have what I have. It is not my error that your mother is so self-centered that she cannot love you as my mother loves me." I regretted it the moment I said it. But I had no chance to announce to Deidre that I was sorry for saying such evil things.

The very second I finished saying what I'd said; I had little time to breath, let alone anything else. I saw Deidre's face crumple in bitter hate. And maybe I saw a little portion of hurt there, also. But I had no time to double check. I didn't even notice Deidre's arm move, but I definitely felt the hard sting spread across my face as Deidre swung her hand at my skin. Pain tore through me, and I fell to the floor so weakly.

After the shock of what had happened, and the pain I felt, I looked straight up at Deidre. Still, she looked angry. But at the same time she looked ever so satisfied. And that frightened me. I quickly glanced at Darren, who stood staring down at me…so emotionless. I was so worried what Deidre would do next. But then I heard footsteps and saw my mother come into focus. I sat up, gripping my sore face as if it could soothe the pain. My mother began yelling at Deidre as she knelt down beside me. She removed my hand to look at my face. I didn't realize until then that tears were streaming down my face – my face that was stinging because of Deidre.

I was safe now – now Mother had come. She must have seen Deidre hit me. I was so glad that she had come to my defense. I was lucky that time – I escaped the full scale of Deidre's wrath. But would Mother be there to save me the next time…?