The Seventh Avenger: Playing With Fire

Chapter 11: Mischief

          Her Aunt Chelsea has been here for only five minutes, and already Ava feels as if she is going to snap.

          She had hoped that the day would drag on with the knowledge that her least favourite relative was coming for a visit, and that tidying the house up would distract her from unwanted thoughts about the unpleasant, upcoming evening. But the day passed much quicker than she had hoped, and she soon found that there wasn't anywhere near enough cleaning to keep her occupied for the entire day.

          So she had tried other things. Going for a walk in the woods behind the property. Taking one of her Pop's old horses for a ride. Fiddling with spare pieces of technology left behind on her desk to try to build something, yet none of these things were enough. Dreaded thoughts of Aunt Chelsea and how the evening would unfold had hung over her in a dark, miserable rain cloud no matter how hard she had tried to avoid them.

          Eventually, the time had come to help her grandfather with the cooking and set the table with her grandmother, before she had to go and put something nice on. Aunt Chelsea is one to always pick apart how it is that a person looks, so Ava had taken extra care to choose something that wouldn't give her great-aunt the satisfaction of ridiculing her. Some neat jeans and a grey jumper would surely be sufficient.

          And all too quickly, the horrid hell beast arrived.

          For God knows what reason, her grandparents decided that Ava should be the one to let Chelsea in, and had wasted no time in ushering her towards the front door. Ava suspects that they just didn't want to deal with the old bat so soon themselves, but hadn't protested. She thought it was best to get the first greeting over and done with as quickly as possible, so grumbling under her breath, she went without any hassles and opened the front door.

           It has been almost ten years since Ava last saw her great-aunt, but it's safe to say that she hasn't aged as gracefully as her grandparents have. Chelsea is wearing far too much make-up on her worn, wrinkly face, and Ava sees that there is a lipstick stain on her front tooth as she offers Ava a fake smile, her beady blue eyes raking up and down her body no doubt taking in and judging her appearance. Unlike many other women her age, Chelsea has decided not to leave her thinning hair a natural colour, as the ends of it had been dyed what was once a mousy brown with the roots snow white. She wears far too much jewellery than necessary and is dressed in clothes that would better suit someone who is twenty years younger than her age and are too tight on her rather plump body.

           "Ava!" she greets in a surprisingly booming voice, and it takes everything within Ava not to flinch at the ringing that it causes in her ears. Before she has time to react, Chelsea pulls her in for a crushing hug, and Ava almost gags at the overwhelming scent of the jasmine perfume that coats both her skin and clothes. She has put far too much on, as per usual.

          Before Ava has time to even think about reluctantly returning the hug, her aunt suddenly shoves her back hard enough to cause Ava to stumble. She sends a glare at the rude woman in front of her as she catches herself just in time, but her Aunt is too busy straightening her beige blouse to notice. "Sorry, dear, but can't ruin this absolute masterpiece. It was handmade especially for me, after all! Don't you think it looks just absolutely fabulous?"

          Ava wants to remark that the blouse is the colour of vomit, but her Aunt pushes past her to take off down the hall before she gets the chance.

          Once again, she manages to catch herself in time before she inevitably trips over her own feet, and her nostrils flare as she casts a dirty look in the direction that Chelsea had just disappeared in. Curses and insults dance on the tip of her tongue as the sounds of her grandparents greeting her aunt echo throughout the house, but she exhales slowly in an attempt to calm the irk of anger beginning to boil within her.