Page 18 of Spelled By Truth and Tresses

She paused before heading to the dorm entrance. “It’s good to have you back. I’ve missed you.”

“You too.” I squeezed her arm and added. “A lot.”

CHAPTER 7

Ijabbed my house key into the lock, then made a beeline for the kitchen, determined to get in and out without my mother knowing I was ever here. I needed a coffee and a clean change of clothes. Mother would be at work for another five hours, so I had plenty of time. However, any time I stepped under this roof, anxiety gnawed on my nerves.

I walked over to the coffee pot, then picked it up and tilted it. The contents swished side to side heavily. Good, there was at least half a pot left. She shouldn’t notice any missing coffee. My braid thumped against my lower back as I turned to see if there were any to-go cups on the dish rack.

I froze, and my eyes zeroed in on a bit of folded parchment on the counter.

Zellie, where have you been!? It’s been days since I last brushed your hair. Do not leave after you’ve read this. I’ll know.

Mother

Disgust roiled my gut. Right, brushed my hair. I snorted. Mother has used that phrase since I was an infant. It’s ridiculous she doesn’t just call it what it was.

I wrapped my arms around myself. I fucking knew it was a mistake coming here. Lalita and I are close enough in size. Why didn’t I just borrow clothes from her? The paper gave easily as I crumpled it in my fist, then hurled it across the room. The soft swish of paper connecting against the window next to the table did nothing to quell my anxiety. My brain fed the negative emotions as I panicked.

The subtle manipulation cut deeply, and not even the frost coating the organ in my chest could protect it from bleeding.

Screw this. I am not sitting around waiting for her to come home and forcefully subject me to torture. I snatched my backpack from where it hung over the back of the dining room chair, but it was too late.

Metal jangled, then the front door swung open.

My mother stomped over the threshold. The wind howled through the open door and leaves skittered across the wooden floorboards.

“Oh good,” Mother said. I jumped as she clapped her hands once, then continued speaking. “I see you can follow instructions, after all.”

All the air fled the room through the entrance to the house, the change in pressure slamming the door. My ears popped painfully as I took several steps backward. Thankfully, years of self preservation allowed me to halt my movements.

“Hello, Mother. Did you have a good day at work?” I placed my hands behind my back and wrung my fingers. “I thought you didn’t get home until four?”

My mother sighed heavily, then threw her purse onto the couch. It bounced, then fell to its side, spilling half of its contents onto the floor. She rolled her eyes at the mess and stomped toward me. I fought the urge to flee, grounding my feet into my boots. Mother reached up, then scoffed as she attempted to flatten the wispy curls against my head.

“Really, Rapunzel, is it too difficult to make yourself look presentable? To think you’ve been walking around all day looking like this,” Mother said and curled her lip.

A familiar heaviness settled into my stomach. Nothing I ever did would be good enough for her. She brushed by me and headed toward the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “Get out of my sight. Do something about that rat’s nest you call hair. I expect it to be down and detangled by the time I come to your room.”

I balled my hands into fists, forcefully pushing my magic back before it exploded out of me. “Yes, Mother,” I mumbled, then sprinted up the stairs to my room.

I sighed as I pulled the hair tie from the bottom of my braid. My hair wouldn’t be such a fucking mess if you’d let me cut it. I worked my fingers through my golden strands, undoing all the hard work it took to form the complex braid.

My motions were quick and jerky as I rushed to finish the task. I was just loosening the last fold of braid as Mother’s silhouette darkened my doorway. She tsked, then snatched the brush near my elbow on the vanity.

We didn’t speak as she immediately set to work, eager as ever to get her fix. Her overly long nails scraped my scalp as she yanked on a handful of hair painfully. I watched my reflection, never allowing my gaze to veer from my face. My eyes watered as she tugged the brush violently through my strands.

“You need to take better care of your hair, Rapunzel. It feels like you haven’t washed your hair in weeks!” She shrieked. Actually, I washed it yesterday at Lalita’s, but it wasn’t worth mentioning it out loud.

“The health of your hair directly correlates to the prosperity of your magic. Doesn’t that school teach you anything?” She sneered. “Don’t you want your mother to live a long life?”

“Yes, Mother,” I responded automatically.

The brush halted as it caught on a small knot. My mother hissed, then pain radiated inside my skull as she repeatedly whacked me on the top of the head with the flat of the brush. When she finally stopped, I knew I had a concussion. My pulse thudded in my ears as I tried to focus on the words spewing past her lips.

“Why do you make me hurt you, darling?” Mother crooned, the genuine smile spreading on her face sickly sweet.

Finally, soft purple light emanated from my hair, the lavender sparks barely visible through my double vision. My mother dropped my hair, the heavy weight of it thwacking against the floor and the legs of my chair. She lunged for the coffee mug sitting beside me, then promptly dumped the contents into my small wastebasket.

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