“Get out!â€
“You’re a whore! No daughter of mine!â€
“GO!â€
“You’re a dirty coward! Just like your weakling brother!â€
The clinking of bottles can be heard further within, and suddenly one sails through the stale, dusty air, passing by her cheek, and sending shards of glass clattering to the floor. The Evangeline of a year ago would have flinched, would have trembled in fear. She would have tried to placate her mother, calm her. Anything to halt the woman’s rage.
Instead, she just sighs, “This is going well.†before proceeding farther into the manor. Stepping over piles of trash and filth, she passes by a kitchen buzzing with flies, the stench causing the bile to rise in her throat. “Mother… I didn’t come all this way to fight. Can we talk reasonably, for once?â€
A vase, the kind that once filled their home with color and flowers, came next, brightly colored chips of pottery spinning across the floor as it shatters. “I came this far… a few projectiles will not stop me…â€
The wrought iron fire poker that comes next does cause her to stop despite her words, as the dark form of it comes flying by. Evangeline barely ducks out of the way in time, as the poker goes clattering down the hallway, sending piles of moldering debris flying.
“Seven hells mom!†Evangeline redoubles her pace, bursting into the study just in time to find her mother prying a lamp from the wall “Calm yourself!†She grabs the woman’s wrists and pulls her away from the wall, and pushing her down onto a musty armchair. “Stop tearing the damned house apart!â€
Then she pauses, it had been too easy. Her mother, the woman whose presence had filled her life with terror for years, and she had been restrained with no more difficulty than a child. This was the woman she had been afraid of? One famed for her beauty, her face was wrinkled and worn, eyes bloodshot, with the telltale yellow of addiction to drink. Her once golden hair was grey and patchy, the thickest parts tangled and dirty.
“Unhand me! You treacherous spawn of Nidhogg!†A glob of saliva, hits Evangeline on the face, dribbling down her cheek, and this close, Evangeline can smell the reek of drink. She closes her eyes for a moment, as her mother struggles impotently in her hands. When had it all gone wrong? When had her family come to this?
After a few moments, she opens her eyes and gazes at her mother, her expression not fear, but pity. “Mother. I’ve found a place for you… A sanitarium. The staff will be here to collect you shortly, and no threats or pleads will cause them to desist. You are a vile, angry woman, and you have caused me much pain in this life…†She swallows and embraces her struggling mother in a hug, marveling at how thin the body is under the soiled nightgown. Her mother claws and screams, nails drawing lines of blood on Evangeline’s arms. Finally Evangeline releases her, and the woman falls backwards onto the armchair, she glares at her daughter for a moment, and then begins weeping.
Evangeline turns and walks out the way she came, “I’m taking the armor. We’ll speak again once you’re at the home.â€
Unlike her mother, she does not weep.
“You’re a whore! No daughter of mine!â€
“GO!â€
“You’re a dirty coward! Just like your weakling brother!â€
The clinking of bottles can be heard further within, and suddenly one sails through the stale, dusty air, passing by her cheek, and sending shards of glass clattering to the floor. The Evangeline of a year ago would have flinched, would have trembled in fear. She would have tried to placate her mother, calm her. Anything to halt the woman’s rage.
Instead, she just sighs, “This is going well.†before proceeding farther into the manor. Stepping over piles of trash and filth, she passes by a kitchen buzzing with flies, the stench causing the bile to rise in her throat. “Mother… I didn’t come all this way to fight. Can we talk reasonably, for once?â€
A vase, the kind that once filled their home with color and flowers, came next, brightly colored chips of pottery spinning across the floor as it shatters. “I came this far… a few projectiles will not stop me…â€
The wrought iron fire poker that comes next does cause her to stop despite her words, as the dark form of it comes flying by. Evangeline barely ducks out of the way in time, as the poker goes clattering down the hallway, sending piles of moldering debris flying.
“Seven hells mom!†Evangeline redoubles her pace, bursting into the study just in time to find her mother prying a lamp from the wall “Calm yourself!†She grabs the woman’s wrists and pulls her away from the wall, and pushing her down onto a musty armchair. “Stop tearing the damned house apart!â€
Then she pauses, it had been too easy. Her mother, the woman whose presence had filled her life with terror for years, and she had been restrained with no more difficulty than a child. This was the woman she had been afraid of? One famed for her beauty, her face was wrinkled and worn, eyes bloodshot, with the telltale yellow of addiction to drink. Her once golden hair was grey and patchy, the thickest parts tangled and dirty.
“Unhand me! You treacherous spawn of Nidhogg!†A glob of saliva, hits Evangeline on the face, dribbling down her cheek, and this close, Evangeline can smell the reek of drink. She closes her eyes for a moment, as her mother struggles impotently in her hands. When had it all gone wrong? When had her family come to this?
After a few moments, she opens her eyes and gazes at her mother, her expression not fear, but pity. “Mother. I’ve found a place for you… A sanitarium. The staff will be here to collect you shortly, and no threats or pleads will cause them to desist. You are a vile, angry woman, and you have caused me much pain in this life…†She swallows and embraces her struggling mother in a hug, marveling at how thin the body is under the soiled nightgown. Her mother claws and screams, nails drawing lines of blood on Evangeline’s arms. Finally Evangeline releases her, and the woman falls backwards onto the armchair, she glares at her daughter for a moment, and then begins weeping.
Evangeline turns and walks out the way she came, “I’m taking the armor. We’ll speak again once you’re at the home.â€
Unlike her mother, she does not weep.
