After I was called in I headed straight to the kitchen, figuring that was where Angie was. Sure enough she was splayed out in a kitchen chair. For all her hubbub about being lady like, she wasn't sitting in a very lady like way. Legs spread wide like she was trying to get lucky. Ugh. It makes me shudder to think about it.
"Azalee, we were informed that you were talking to a troublemaker. Abraham O'Dwyer. He is an awful influence. A man-whore, most likely on drugs, very rude. If you are interested in him, you best give up, because I am not letting you run about with a hooligan." Her voice was angry and firm. Me...I was confused. Who was Abraham? Wait, troublemaker? Bad boy. Whatever. Wow, again with whore references. Takes one to know one.
"Um, I talked to him, and I didn't know about his reputation, Angie. I am brand new here, give me a break. I don't know anyone, I needed directions, and for the record, he came over to me." I said calmly, trying to hide my exasperation.
"Well, hun, that may be worse. He might've thought you were like him. What with those tight clothes and makeup. He probably thought you were advertising. You best make it clear you aren't. I don't allow that behavior in my family." She said. I stared at her incrediously. Did she just say what I think she said?
"I am not a whore. Angie, honestly, we just talked, I didn't ravish him. Maybe he's a decent guy and you're just blowing things way out of proportion." I replied, this time I let my frustration show. She really had the nerve to call me a whore. God, she was digging her own grave. Why did Willy marry her? What on earth was the appeal?
"Deary, I wish I could believe you, but we all know what you city folk are like. Your mama didn't have a great reputation either. More slut than whore. Just wanted cash from their rich boy pockets. That's the only reason she dated them. Poor doll." Fury washed through me. She had insulted my mother, who had done everything in her power to make ends meet and give me a good childhood.
"She wasn't a slut, you bitch. She was a hardworking mother, and she dated guys she was interested in. They cheated and she dumped them! You have no right to call her a whore, you flithy slut!" I yelled.
"Azalee-" she began, but I cut her off with a glare.
"Aza. My name is Aza." I snarled.
"Young lady, you are a member of my family, and we don't use that kind of language." Her voice was insulted and hurt. As if she hadn't called my mom a slut.
"I am not a member of your wretched family, I don't want to be! I hope you fucking drop dead! Oh, just thought you should know, you are the slut, not me or my mother." I screamed. I turned and raced away, out the back door, and into the forest. I collapsed in a heap in the dirt, sobbing my heart out as memories of my mom assaulted me.
Her smiling at my nervous first boyfriend, then holding me as I cried after he cheated. Girl's night, with chocolate and Taylor Lautner films. I missed her so much. "I want to go home!" I screeched. My voice was raw and broken with sobs. I curled into a ball, weeping until there were no tears left.
I finally cried myself out. I was completely exhausted. I could barely hold my head up. I lay in the darkness and cold, feeling my conciousness slipping away.
I woke a while later. Warmth was sinking into to my side. I turned and saw a massive pair of wolf eyes. Of the richest, most expressive black color. They instantly made me think of Bad Boy. Er, Abe. Then it fully hit me. I was lying down with my throat up, with a Clydesdale sized wolf leaning over me, teeth bared. I screamed bloody murder.
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