Mistletoe And Wine

Cruel and Unusual

When Brian and I got back home, it was an hour past the time the bus should have dropped us off. I knew I would be in big trouble the moment I saw Paul's face in the window. As soon as I saw him, he took off, likely to alert Marge I was finally back. Brian gave me a quick hug and promised to see me tomorrow; something that made me feel warm, despite the cold weather. I watched him enter his house, dreading entering my own new home.

After staring at the window Paul had been in for a hot minute, my teeth really began to chatter. Walking had kept me somewhat decently warm, but I'd been standing still for too long. My breath could be seen in the air as I slowly walked up the porch steps and entered the premises.

The heater was nearly a shock to my system and sent a violent shiver down my spine, but I immediately shrugged off my jacket and hung it up. My cheeks prickle almost painfully as they warmed; same as my fingers. I noticed that it was rather quiet. Why hadn't I been yelled at yet?

I continued through the house to the dining room. Everyone, including Marge, was sat at the cramped dinner table. There was only one spot left at the foot of the table. Every spot except my brothers had a bowel of beef stew and a chunk of sweet corn bread.

"Sit down," Marge said calmly. Confused, and slightly nervous, I did as I was told. I waited, thinking maybe Will had been playing with his food, or it had been too hot to be brought out to him. No one got up to bring it to him, so I began to stand to do it myself. "I said, 'sit down'", Marge commanded sternly. " Lindy, dear, will you offer us Grace?"

I sat down hesitantly and put my hands in my lap. Everyone else bowed their heads as Lindy began to pray.

"Dear Lord, please bless this meal you have put before us, so that it may nourish us and bring us strength," Lindy began. Marge cut her off.

"And Lord help us remember to be great full to those who bring us off the streets. Who give us food, and shelter, and discipline. Let us remember to follow the rules of our caretakers homes, so that she may not have to be seen as the bad guy when carrying out punishment and reward."

I glared at Marge as everyone echoed "Amen" and began to eat. I still did not touch my food. "Where is William's stew and bread," I ask. Marge looks down at her food dispassionately and mixes it with her spoon.

When she looks up at me, she looks stern, but almost regretful. It's a look that makes my stomach churn, and I was no longer hungry. When she speaks, I want to punch her square in her nose.

"You will learn, Stella, that you are not exempt from my rules. You go to school, you come strait here. No skipping class, no detours with your wild friends, no rebellious escapades. There must be a punishment. Unfortunately, I believe it is too late to teach a child as old as yourself a lesson in greatfulness, so we will just have to make sure your brother doesn't fall into your footsteps. He will not be eating tonight."

"What," I gasp in horror. "You can't do that! He's only two years old!"

As everyone began slurping their stew, my brother began to cry for his. It wasn't fair! She couldn't punish him for something I did! "This is abuse! You're abusing your power!"

"Enough! Or he will go all day tomorrow without a meal as well!"

"He will not! If you're going to punish someone for my mistakes, it's going to be me!" Will was screaming by now, red in the face.

"Hungry," he screams. Griffon covers his ears and begins to cry as well. Marge looks like she is about to burst before she slams her hands on the table and stands up.

"Fine," she growls. "Give the boy your food. Paul, help him with the spoon!" She marches over to me and grabs me painfully by the arm. "As for you, not only will you not eat, but you will not be going to school tomorrow. You won't be going anywhere. I told you to stay away from that beastly Warner boy and you defied me again." She yanks so hard on my arm it felt like it'd pop out of its socket and she pulls me behind the stairs, opening a door with a small key, and pushes me through. I catch myself before I fall down the stairs leading to the basement and break my neck.

"I'll let you out in three days. Any more trouble out of you and I swear I'll kick you out of my house." With that, she slams the door shut, and I hear it click as it locks. Gaping like a fish at the door, I listen as her heels tap on the floor as she briskly walks away. 

Slowly, it sunk in what was happening, as I walked down to the ground floor. The darkness pressed in in me and I waited for my eyes to adjust. There was a weight in my stomach and in my shoulders. It was so heavy that it sunk me down to my knees.

I was locked in the basement. Who knew if she would remember I was down here? I'd have to beat in the door to remind her. Who's to say she would let me out when she said she would, though? Who's to say she will feed me, or give me water? Who would protect my brother?

The other kids weren't going to, that was for sure. I began to wonder why this was happening to us. What did we do to deserve this? First our parents, and now this abusive household. I couldn't help but think about the look on my mother's face as she realized she was going to die. The look of pure horror, and terror as she threw Will away from her, out of the line of fire.

I saw my father's face as he pulled the trigger, uncaring if he murdered his wife and only son. The look on his face after it was already done, and mom's white sweater was stained red. The way the wood floors looked with both my parents blood running across it.

The utter fear I had felt and the loneliness that followed. I realized now that currently, I couldn't stop the tears, as I had done a good job of then. I couldn't silently cry this time. I was doubled over in a fetal position, shaking and violently sobbing. The muscles in my face hurt from straining so hard and I clawed the hair tie from my blonde hair, trying to relieve the pull on my head. I let myself fall apart, until I eventually fell asleep on the cold, hard, concrete floor of the basement.

Authors Note: sort of a short one this time. I wanted to really touch base on the cruelty that is happening in Marge's house so that it builds up the loathing of her and her children until we reach our peak moment of emotion with these characters.

Please let me know what you think of the story so far, and how you think Brian would react if he knew what was going on. Try and remember he is still 18 here in the beginning of this story.