Fangs of a Butterfly

CHAPTER 5

That night the Elders came into my room, enraged.

"I heard you threatened the boy," Agnes screamed. "When did I tell you to do that? When!"

She ran over to me and pulled at my locks as I shrieked.

"No! No! No!"

Memories flooded me.

Memories of my mother, my real mother, thirty two at the time, dark-haired and beautiful. She must've being crying and holding on to me as they pulled at me and then slapped her, and, pulling her by hair, dragged her away from me.

"You're a failure! You shouldn't have being born!" Selma chanted.

"Your father never should've lived! added Rowena.

"Like father, like daughter!"

"Like mother, like daughter!"

"Don't talk about my mother!" I screamed. I dug my nails into Agnes.

"Ouch!" She pulled back. She stared at the blood trickling down her skin, then glared at me. I had cut her. That was worse than killing her—a vampire's skin, their beauty, was their everything. I might've as well have cut her face.

"How dare you." She looked at me, and her mouth was set in a tight scowl. "I see now. I must've given you too much leeway. The dog has forgotten the hand that feeds them, and bitten it."

"No, Agnes," I whimpered, falling onto my knees. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"She meant it!"

"I saw it!"

"She even defended her mother."

"And how many times," Agnes continued, "have I reminded you? I'm your mother."

I shook my head, tears flowing like streams, shaking.

"No, but Rowena, or Selma, mentioned it! They said, 'like mother, like daughter'!"

"I said no such thing!"

"The girl's also a liar!"

"How will you punish her?"

"Shall we bring her to the dungeon?"

"No!" I clutched Agnes's black skirt. "Please! No! You need me: I have to seduce Uriel! I will apologize to him! I will do something about it!"

She peered down at me like I was a pathetic and dirty dog pawing her dress. She stepped back, and I fell on the floor.

"It's too late."

Selma and Rowena ran to me and each of them took an arm.

"No! No! No!"

I cried as I clawed the floor, sobbing and screaming, but the two, despite being in their fifties, pulled me out of the room.

"Stand up, or we'll push you down the stairs," Rowena sneered. I hiccuped as I stumbled to my feet, the two of them still tugging and pulling at my arms.

"That's what you get for being so conceited!" We clambered down the steps, and their shrill voices bounced off the wall and repeated itself.

"—conceited!"

"Your beauty's made you spoiled and dull-witted!"

"—witted!"

"Oh," Selma giggled, "just like her mother, Elsie!"

"—Elsie!"

"Who grew too confident just because she was Edith's favorite granddaughter!"

"And Margery is just like that. A beautiful dolt!"