“Now, now, isn’t that regimen an outdated concept? This young lady is a true vision of beauty! Would you look at those different colored eyes?” Niles chimes, presenting me like a show pony up for sale.
The quick swing of her arm cracks like a whip. Those old, gnarled, arthritic knuckles backhand Niles’s cheekbone, making him gasp and cower in shame.
“Bite your tongue,boy! That regimen is the law. Think of where this city would be without it. We’d live in squalor with anarchistic lands and fat, ugly women.” She chuffs, glaring back down at me. “They’d look likethisungodly cow.”
At that last bit, I choke out a laugh.
An ungodly cow.
Cow.
I really oughta write these down. My vault of insults for Mabel Rose will be elite and top tier when we return home.
The brittle impact of her bony fist shatters my laugh mid-breath, leaving the bitter taste of copper on my tongue. My jaw ricochets with pain,and I groan and squeeze my eyes shut.
Through the ringing in my ears, I swear I hear Niklaus yell something.
“Disrespect!” The old woman’s arthritic fingers snatch my chin in an iron grip. “Youdaremock me, girl? Is something funny? Have I told a joke?”
A small fire ignites in my belly.
Oh, my quick wit is going to get me killed.
“Ungodly cow,” I respond through clenched teeth as she pinches my chin tighter.
“Was that not meant to be a joke?”
A small shock buzzes behind her milky-sheened eyes.
“If not, I have a joke that might rectify that… You’re looking a little plump and chunky around the hips yourself. If you want some advice to lose twenty pounds of ugly weight, this one will work wonders for you… Cut. Off. Your. Fucking Head. You disease riddenswine!”
My words hang in the air like a sword over my head. I smile politely as she seems to be frozen, staring at me with an unreadable expression pinching her craggy face.
“Grandmother…” the man with my father’s name on his forehead finally speaks up in warning.
The old woman passes her gas lamp to Niles. The silence grows heavy. Her fists curl so hard I can see the blue veins protruding on the backs of her hands. Her attack happens all at once. A blur of the black material from her dress, weathered pale skin, and spittle from the corners of her mouth as she shrieks, wet and throaty.
Those knuckles looked so brittle, but I yelp as they pummel my cheeks. A white light explodes behind my eyes. Again and again, she beats on my face, my jaw, the soft spots under my eyes. And with her second wind, she takes to my gut like a rabid banshee, hurling her frail body at me, summoning all her energy into battle. Her fists strike my stomach, sharp and deep, as if she’s trying to reach behind my ribs.
The air whooshes from my lungs in a strangled gasp.
Niklaus says furious words behind the commotion. But I can’t make out what they are.
The insurmountable pain blooms around the bone structure of my face, within my spleen, kidneys, and stomach. My vision is consumed by black and scarlet red, blurring from involuntary tears. My groans come out choppy and hoarse, grunting against each guttural impact.
I continue waiting for her to grow tired. To exhaust herself to the point of fainting. But I’m stunned by her stamina. Her blatant ability to power through her arms which must be on fire with soreness. The cold sweat dripping down her temples and neck.
My ears ring like church bells, chiming in with her continuous wails of ferocity.
Christ! When does it end?!
“Krimson…” I sputter blood as consciousness pulls me in and out of this basement.
Each strike is a message. Correctional punishment. The bite of my nails into the mattress slowly releases as I fade into the agony swallowing me whole.
Krimson, where are you?
A raging fire eats at my pulsing eyes and cheeks. Is my nose broken? I can’t breathe through it. I open my mouth to gasp. My attacker busts my lip.
