Author's note: For a while now, I have just really lost my interest in writing. However, I'm ecstatic to tell you all that I've once again found my muse and I'm ready to jump right back into the groove. Thank you for sticking with me. I know my last chapter may have seemed a bit rushed, as I was suffering from some slight writer's block, but I hope this chapter will make up for that! Please let me know what you think about it.

Please note, I've taken the liberty of assuming Cordelia's age, as it hasn't been directly stated by Ryan Murphy thus far. I would guess her to be around 35. Also, if you are sensitive to the suggestion of rape, I advise that you do not read this chapter.

Also, I'm currently on the prowl for a beta reader. I'm able to catch some of my errors, but I'm not perfect. It would be nice to have a second set of eyes to help me out! If you're interested, feel free to PM me. I would be eternally grateful.

~oOoOoOo~

- 1996 -

Cordelia was dressed in a taupe gown with a white turtleneck tucked beneath, her blonde tresses splayed as straight as an arrow upon the ample material. She had been crying moments prior to arriving at Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies with her mother at her side, an encouraging hand settled atop Cordelia's spine. Fiona had insisted that this was the finest of education that Cordelia would ever receive in her lifetime, but Cordelia saw through that, even at the mere age of eighteen. She had been in her mother's presence long enough to be able to recognize when Fiona was bullshitting her way through a situation, just so the outcome would emerge favorable in Fiona's behalf.

Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies was a school located in New Orleans, Louisiana. The Big Easy. It was an academy dedicated to teaching the art of witchcraft. For centuries, young witches had been able to disguise what they truly were, a masquerade that was put up in an endeavor to ensure the survival of Salem descendants, but one could never be too sure. There were always threats present, especially in this day and age. Girls who were enrolled in the Academy's courses were presented with an opportunity to learn how to defend themselves, to stay on the down low, and to become knowledgeable with their ancestors past.

In a way, Cordelia was somewhat excited to be attending a school of such promise and high praise, from what she had heard from Fiona, but she knew better. Cordelia knew that, around Fiona, it wasn't wise to get your hopes up. Fiona lived to see that your hopes and dreams came crashing down around you, and she laughed from the sidelines as it happened.

Unfortunately, Cordelia had been stuck with this woman since birth, but she was certain that the feeling was mutual. Cordelia was well aware of the fact that she was a mistake. Fiona reminded her of this often. She'd told the tale time and time again, how Cordelia wasn't meant to be conceived, but Fiona was wild in her prime, careless, with a nasty habit of believing that she was invincible, that the parties and the rowdy nights out around town would never fade. Fiona had been kind enough to tell Cordelia about the evening of her conception, how Fiona had been drunk off of her ass, her legs parted for the next man to walk in through the door. She was the Supreme. She had it all. One thing, however, that she did not have, was a form of contraceptive, and it was a mistake that would haunt her for the next eighteen years, as Fiona would often say.

Eighteen years. It was Cordelia's birthday, and her only present was her mother dropping her off at the Academy's doorstep. Fiona had her second husband waiting in the car, shouting, demanding that she hurry it along. He was loaded. He could have retired at the age of thirty and would have been set for the rest of his life, but that was before Fiona walked in. She stole every penny that he had ever made, and sucked the very soul from his body when he was no longer of use to her. Then, it was time to find husband number three. Cordelia didn't miss the man. He'd always sneak into her room at night, lift the blankets from Cordelia's body and slip his hand between her thighs, a large palm covering her mouth, making it difficult to breath, and even harder to scream.

Cordelia lived through hell in that house. It wasn't a home, there was nothing comforting about it. That house was merely a shell that separated Cordelia from the rest of the world, from safety.

One day, Cordelia had made the mistake of believing that she could confide in Fiona, and open up to her mother about what was going on during the nights. She often wondered why Fiona hadn't realized that her husband had rose from bed in the middle of the night, but she thought it best to not pin the blame on Fiona. Her mother couldn't have known, right? As soon as the accusation left Cordelia's lips, Fiona slapped her across the face, and threatened that much worse would happen to her should Cordelia ever tell such a lie again. From that point on, Cordelia was still at night. She would pretend to be asleep while her mother's husband came in. She would stifle her cries, and pray that he didn't see the tears cascading down her cheeks as she was violated, her innocence ripped away from her, all the while her mother was just a few doors down, oblivious to the abuse.

The past was the past. As much as Cordelia didn't want to be without her mother, she knew that attending this Academy was in her best interest, where she would be surrounded by people that wouldn't inflict harm upon her, people that weren't out to humiliate Cordelia.

She didn't want to leave her mother's side, but she soon realized that she had never been by her mother's side in the first place. For the majority of Cordelia's life, she had referred to her mother as Fiona, not mom. Fiona wasn't her mother. Fiona didn't have a maternal bone in her body. She was merely the person who allowed Cordelia to live with her for eighteen years, and provided halfway decent meals, though most of the time, Cordelia cooked and cleaned for herself.

She didn't want to be alone in life, but that was the only thing she really knew how to do. Cordelia was so socially awkward that it was sickening, but she prayed that people in this Academy would just mind their own business, and leave her be. She didn't want to socialize with others. She'd forgotten how to start a conversation with another individual, much less keep one continuing for an extended period of time.

"Come on, now, Delia. I've got somewhere to be with your father," Fiona murmured in a hushed tone, pushing Cordelia further. Cordelia didn't even have an opportunity to comment on her mother's choice of words before Fiona turned on her heel and headed back for the car.

Father? The thought of husband number two being Cordelia's father made her cringe, and her skin crawl. That man wasn't her father. That man didn't mean one god damn thing to her.

Cordelia wanted to cry. She wanted to cry, and scream at the top of her lungs for the entire world to hear, but she couldn't. She couldn't allow her control to slip through her fingers now, she needed to exercise her inner strength, and push herself out of her comfort zone. She still needed to meet the Headmistress of Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies, a woman who Fiona often referred to as a ginger bitch. When Cordelia was shown to her room, and only then, would she finally cry...

- 2013 -

It was funny.

Life was just one big cosmic joke, wasn't it?

The woman who had dumped Cordelia off at the Academy's doorstep without a single goodbye was now standing beside Cordelia, tending to her every need, trying to be the mother that Fiona had never been.

Much had changed since Cordelia was a young girl, still blossoming, though extremely introverted. She'd broken out of her shell, and learned to speak for herself. With the help of her Auntie Myrtle, Cordelia realized that it was time to stop allowing others to walk all over her, to abuse her. It was time to let a past that haunted and plagued her dreams each night go. It was time for forgiveness.

Unfortunately for Cordelia, or rather, Fiona, Cordelia had a tendency to hold a grudge like a champion.

Cordelia may have been capable of showing forgiveness, but she never forgot. While Cordelia was in Fiona's presence, resentment was the one emotion that fueled the fire.

If looks could kill, Fiona would have died a thousand deaths this morning alone.

Today, Fiona was too touchy feely with Cordelia, sucking her ass, acting as if she'd just been presented with the mother of the year award. Cordelia wanted to laugh. She wanted to laugh until she'd gone blue in the face, until she couldn't breathe anymore.

As much as Fiona tried, her attempts to be a mother had proved to be fruitless, just as her mother's confession that would follow was.

"...The doctors say it's terminal," Fiona whispered from her chair while Cordelia stood off to the side, obviously expecting to hear some sort of sympathy in Cordelia's voice. Fiona wanted pity, and that was one god damn thing she would never receive. In Cordelia's mind, Fiona would be waiting until hell froze over for pity.

"Do me a favor, die before Thanksgiving so none of us have to suffer through that mess of raisins and Styrofoam you call stuffing," Cordelia snarled in response, walking away with the aid of her cane so she didn't run into any furniture. She was already covered in enough bruises, physically and emotionally, that would last Cordelia two lifetimes.

Cordelia was expecting that the rebellion she was putting up against Fiona would have felt great, but if anything, it only intensified the ache within Cordelia's heart. She wanted to forgive her mother, so much that it hurt.

But she couldn't.

She couldn't forgive her mother, because she didn't have a mother, not where Fiona was concerned.

According to Cordelia, Myrtle was her mother. Myrtle was the woman that didn't allow strange men to enter Cordelia's room at night and plunge their fingers inside of her, the woman that coddled and nurtured Cordelia, the woman that wiped her tears away and held her as Cordelia's world fell apart.

Myrtle was Cordelia's saving grace.

Fiona could burn in hell.

~oOoOoOo~

I know this story has been sort of slow-paced, but it's starting to pick up now. Y'all can expect a lot of backstories to pop up in the near future. Until then, please let me know what you think of this! Much love. ~ A