Her Coven: My Coven Book 2

The Pheonix

They're fighting. Again. I used to be able to drown it out with "Rhiannon", but even that song has grown tedious. Recently, my mind has been drawn to "Dreams." Maybe it's the simplicity of the lyrics that seems to burn the deepest, darkest realms my soul, or maybe it's because it's so different and yet so similar to the melodies of Fleetwood Mac. There was a faint knocking at my door. 

"Hey, can I come in?" Without waiting for an answer, she entered. "Honey, I know we haven't been on the best of terms since we got here, but..."

"But what? Sorry for deceiving you for 17 years. After being here for 5, do you expect me call you mom, or even look you in the eye. I can't even call dad a man anymore. Now that I know who he is. So what do you expect? I'd really like to know." 

Flustered, Cordelia sat down on my vanity stool. "I expect you to acknowledge the fact that I have raised you and that your father is a man now."

"Get out!" I said calmly. Cordelia sat still in shock. I persisted harder when she didn't leave. "Get out!" I screamed. The door flew open and she was gone. It was slammed shut by another power, probably Cordelia's. I walked over to my record player and turned the knob. In the mirror on my wall, I caught a glimpse of my face. Mascara running. Hair tousled. Ears Red. Thunder only happens when it's raining. Players only love you when they're playing. Say... Women... they will come and they will go. When the rain washes you clean... you'll know. With these lyrics engraved in my brain, I made my way to the kitchen. Stupid Cordelia. Left the knives on the counter again. She sat on the couch crying into a pillow. Cheap shot. I didn't know what had come over me. The knife was plunged into her back before I could blink. She began to bleed. Out of her mouth. Her back. Onto the cheap pillow saying "Home Sweet Home" and all over the couch. She tried to curse my name. Take it in vain. It was too late by that time. She was gone. She seemed more alive in death than in any other situation. Her face relaxed and wrinkles calmed. Some call death a permanent sleep. Her death however,was more of a cat nap. Within seconds, her peacefulness had ended. She sprang off of her temporary death bed to make a fresh pot of coffee. Like nothing had happened.

"What do you want in yours?" She asked me. Oblivious to what had just happened. It always amazes me that she forgets it all so quickly. She's like the Phoenix.

"Two sugars and cream."

"Alright. Coming right at you." She said as she struggled to grab a cup.