Page 99 of Scapegoat

I stared at her, waiting for her to laugh, or caper around. I’d even have gone for an evil monologue, but not this. That hungry look. Mum’s mask was completely off and the naked greed was plain now.

Because it was possible. A bit like divorce in some human Christian sects, you could do it, but the community viewed it as a very bad business. Whatever fates were involved, your mate(s) were the people you shared your life with. Some who couldn’t make it work might slope off with a side piece sometimes, but that was strictly done on the down low. But if you really, really couldn’t make it work, you and your mates could go before the alphas and reject the bond.

But there was no coming back from it.

I laughed then, and Greg flinched as he walked back inside, toting the full mop bucket. He shot me a warning look, but he and I were obviously in different mindsets. He thought he could placate Mum, but me? If she had me this vulnerable, there was no coming back. I’d run and run from the guys, but the real enemy was her.

“You know I’m never—”

My words were cut off by another brutal slap. My ears rang and my headache started throbbing anew, but I refused to be cowed. I shook my head, snickering when blood splattered all over Mum, something that had her recoiling in disgust. But when she stepped back, Anna took her place, staring at me as she bristled with indignation.

“You were always jealous of me.”

My smile widened then.

“You wanted everything that was mine. My toys, my friends, my dresses.”

I just laughed at that. We were four years apart in age and when we were much younger, I’d carried her everywhere.

My baby sister.

It was only when she got older, when she learned this poison at our mother’s knee, that our relationship had taken a turn for the worse. She’d demanded I share everything of mine, calling out to Mum, who’d descend on me in fury when I didn’t comply. But when I’d asked to share Anna’s stuff, or even get my stuff back, my sister had just smiled. Dad would try and step in when Mum wasn’t around, but then Anna would snitch on him and the existing world order would be restored. If I wanted something, I was selfish and if Anna wanted it, it was her right.

“Is that what you think…?” I gasped out. My eye was starting to close up, the blood rushing to the contusion site, trying to protect it from further damage.

But there was no point.

There were only two ways out of here. I did as Mum said or I would be dragged out of here, wrapped in plastic, to be buried, once she’d killed me.

“You took my mates from me!” my sister shouted, vibrating with rage.

“If they were yours, why did Mum have to insist I take you with me everywhere?” I said, smiling when I saw the small flash of doubt in Anna’s eyes. “Why didn’t they ring you, talk to you, invite you to come with them? If they belonged to you, they wouldn’t want me around.”

“But…” Anna’s eyes flicked to Mum, looking for an explanation, but I had one for her already.

“A friend told me something not that long ago, something that helped me understand you and me, Anna. My best friend always listens to podcasts on well, bloody anything, so she told me about narcissistic parents.” Anna’s perfect brows creased slightly as she stared at me. “A narcissist doesn’t see people as living, feeling human beings. They’re just props, things, to be moved around and manipulated. They can’t feel real love for anyone or anything, because they emotionally split people into different categories. The golden child.”

I nodded to Anna.

“The one that’s given everything, as long as she’s perfect in the narcissist’s eyes. She isn’t an actual person either, just somehow a symbol of the narcissist’s greatness. Her beauty is the mother’s beauty. Her intelligence is the mother’s intelligence.” My lips quirked, even as they stung from the split. “It’s all a fucking lie though.”

“And what does that make you?”

Anna was probably feeling real good right now, standing over me. She was puffing up, just like Mum did, but without the same power. She couldn’t command me to do shit, but I’d give her this for free.

“I’m the scapegoat.”

I was supposed to feel shame about that, but I didn’t. I wouldn’t. I’d been forced into this role and it gave me some kind of insight. I had quite a bit of time on my hands, working in a bunch of places in tiny little towns, and I had the internet. I’d done a lot of research after I left home, finding out more and more about this phenomenon.

“In Biblical times, it was one of two goats. One had all the sins of the community heaped upon it in some kind of ceremony.” I shrugged. “Then it was sent out into the desert to die, taking those sins with it. Of course, that doesn’t fucking work in real life. The people who did the shit things are still there, and putting the blame on someone else doesn’t help you to do the fucking work to stop being such a raging bitch.”

Mum smiled but the expression filled me with dread. That was OK, I’d faced her wrath more times than I could count, and this would be the final time.

“I didn’t raise you to have such a smart mouth,” she said.

“You didn’t raise me at all,” I replied mildly. “You trained a domestic servant.”

“Well, we’ll see how smart you are now,” she replied, holding up a hypodermic needle.

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