He steps aside to let me in. As I pass through, he stands too close to me. A sickly sweet scent clings to him, like roses dipped in blood.
The moment I see my mother, it gets harder for me to breathe.
She's dressed in a metallic golden gown. She looks radiant, like she has sunbeams trapped underneath her skin. Her blonde hair frames her face like a waterfall. She's tall, elegant, and breathtakingly beautiful. She always has been.
Something flickers in her eyes when she sees me.
I used to delude myself into thinking that I would win her affection one day. I used to think that if I just did everything she wanted, she would deem me worthy of her love.
But over the past few months, I learned that love isn't something that needs to be earned. I don't need to work for affection.
"Mother," I say, facing her.
"Gracie," she says. “I’m glad you made the right decision.”
There’s satisfaction in her eyes. She loves having this power over me.
My chest begins to heave. I can feel my face turning red. I gasp for air, but none of it reaches my lungs.
“Air,” I say, glancing around at the room. “There’s no air.”
Every single window in here is sealed shut.
I rush to the nearest window and throw it open. It’s only when I put my head outside that I can breathe again.
“Some things never change, I guess,” my mother says. “You’ve always been the weakest one. But still, it’s nice to have you back.”
My head fills with white noise.
I whirl around to look at her.
"You can cut the bullshit, Mother,” I say. "I know this is all just some sick power game to you."
"I don't know how I raised such an ungrateful little brat." Her voice remains sweet even as it drips poison. "I gave you everything, even more than you deserved. And this is how you talk to me?"
There's no point in arguing with her. She always wins.
And right now, she's baiting me on purpose. She feeds off other people's pain.
Even though I want to rage at her, I don't give her the satisfaction.
"I have no reason to be kind to you," I say. "You made me leave behind everything I ever loved."
"It's for the best," she says. "I've seen what he looks like. He was probably only using you."
"How did you come to that conclusion?" I ask.
“He’s an attractive man,” she says. “And you’re…well,you.”
My face heats. I try to hold on to the anger, but it fades. Tears prick the backs of my eyes.
I know exactly how shallow my mother is, but it never stopped me from wanting her love.
"At least I don't have to buy affection like you," I say quietly.
"Excuse me?"
I glance at the albino man behind me. He's seated on a sofa, looking positively bored by this whole conversation.
