Page 103 of Vicious Saint
“Yes…but I’m sure we can fix that. Get you some lessons.”
Agitation claws at my insides.
“No, thanks. I’m good.”
“I, for one, can’t wait to take advantage of it,” Auntie says through a mouthful.
Vic swallows. “Well, Poppy, you’re welcome to enjoy it any time.”
This room may be big enough to store an elephant, but fuck do I need it to leave.
Darla returns with my food, placing it in front of me. “Please let me know if this one’s not to your liking.”
I smile up at her. “I’m sure it’s fine…thanks Darla.”
Another small bow and she returns to her perch.
“So, your mother tells me you like to draw.” Vic continues the conversation.
“A little more than like.”
“Hendrix wants to get into cartoon and animation,” Mom says proudly.
“I can see why…you have quite the knack for it.”
My hand freezes.
“You’ve seen my drawings?”
“I have,” Vic states. “Your mother showed me some of your work while she set up your room.”
“A bit invasive, Mom. Don’t you think?” I mutter, and guilt slacks the curve of Vic’s jaw.
“I can assure you, Hendrix, it was only the designs she hung up on your wall.”
When I stab my fork around the plate, it has nothing to do with wanting to eat and everything to do with wanting to stab people.
Art is personal. Not for someone, even my mother, to show off like some trophy. No matter how proud I know she is of them.
It took Bex weeks, and Archer months, for me to trust them enough to share my work. Which was way longer than it took this crack of a marriage to be thrusted on me.
For that…I trust no one at this table.
Not even Mom or Auntie with their cryptic and sycophantic bullshit.
I stare down at my hand as it squeezes around the utensil, causing my knuckles to burn a pale shade of red.
Mom’s intrusion is fucked up, but nowhere near justifying the rage bursting inside me, hot enough to melt my veins.
What the fuck is wrong with you, dude?
My conscience appears like an entity, loosening my grip.
Chill the fuck out.
With a deep breath and rapid blinking, I come down from the high, allowing the fork to serve its true purpose and attempt to eat.
Except…with the loss of my cool came the loss of my appetite.
