Being Anna Marie

Being Anna Marie part 23

My exhausted efforts felt futile as I watched red transform into pink as unblemished polished wood became scratched; damaged by rough bristles of a brush I clasped resignedly. Irritation didn’t even began to describe the emotions coursing through my cramped form as sweat beaded down my forehead causing wayward curls to stick to my flushed skin, as the hard wooden surface dug into sore knees, and aggravated hazel lenses rose to glower into what appeared to be blue tinted innocence.

“Why? What part of your brain thought this,” I pointed to the slightly faded footprint still lining the wood, “was a good idea?”

I watched as my undersized nemesis retained a small smirk upon pink tinted lips with such apologetic eyes, the loose brown curls surrounding such doll like features beguiled those to cuddle and protect rather than scold, and her tiny stature clothed in cute miniature dresses easily fooled many into a false sense of incorruptibility although her mischievous actions clearly suggested otherwise.

“Everybody does finger paint. I just wanted to be original and do my feet.”

My eyes fell to her still paint covered toes before I gestured plainly back to the marred wood, “does this look like paper to you?”

Her grin turned sinister in its widened tilt, “no, but it looks like fun.”

Beyond pissed, I viciously threw the wet brush at her feet, small sprays of water sprinkling tiny exposed legs, “then you fucking clean it.”

Amused more than frightened Courtney’s laughter sounded simply jubilant at the ease at which she managed to get beneath my skin, “that’s quite a potty mouth you have, Anna Marie. I wonder what Mommy would say if she could hear you now.”

Glaring at the result of such cosseted indulgence I swallowed the ache that filled my heart for to allow its appearance onto my features was to give Courtney acquiescence to plunder the pain of my mother’s obvious neglect; an agonizing sentiment my little sister took great pleasure in resurfacing if only to witness my tormented reaction.

Pursing my lips in annoyance at her overly used ploys, “why wonder? I’m sure you’ll report back to her with more lies than I’m actually guilty of.”

Her bottom lip jutted out, her sweet face the depiction of sadness, “would I do that to you, Marie?”

“Cut the crap. They may not see through your act but we both know that I do. You’d throw me under the bus in a heart beat if only to see if you could get away with it.”

A tiny palm rose to rest upon a petite hip, those eyes slightly devious, undisguised contempt drowning in azure irises, “it seems you know me too well, big sister.” Unhurriedly she leaned in closer, those eyes holding me entranced, “since you’re such a little mind reader now, how about you tell me what I’ll do next?”

Not in the mood to become her primary warped form of entertainment tonight I sighed tiredly wishing yet again I had simply defied my Mother’s orders and left with Andrea instead of becoming ensnared here babysitting Satan. A flash of lightening exploded throughout the ebony covered sky, the sound of thunder rumbling penetrating the silence as the lights flickered whilst a glimmer of scarlet eclipsed blue lenses only to revert as quickly as they altered.

Brows furrowed in petrified confusion, I fell back onto the seat of my jeans, the bucket of soapy water spilling across the floor, “what the hell?”

Laughing gleefully at such predictability Courtney animatedly exclaimed, “Too late.” Sprinting for the white carpeted lounge I inwardly groaned as bloody footprints streaked the floor knowing that culpability would as always fall upon my shoulders. “Catch me if you can…”