[Chapter Twenty]

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TW: Violence, talk of murder, sewerslide Baiting (kinda)
Enjoy
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You and your sister sat at the table glaring at each other. Briar slowly ate her pizza while sitting in your lap. She wasn't even hungry, fully, that is, and was just doing this to seem occupied. She did try to hand you a slice when your stomach rumbled, but you politely declined it.

You were focused on your sister. Victoria was such a sweet girl when you both were young, but her being the younger and youngest made her spoiled. She thought she owned the world. She thought she could get anything she wanted. She thought she was better than everyone. Truth be told, a worse ego than Montgomery and Roxanne combined, at least... to you.

To everyone else? Oh, Victoria was the angel. She spoke about you being the asshole. She claimed you were the bad influence. That you nearly killed her. That you nearly killed your parents. That you killed, what would've been, your little brother. That you were the jealous one.

"Mama..../Papa.... I want to go.." Briar placed her half eaten slice of cheese pizza on the plate, tugging your shirt. Her lips quivered; she hated this...

Victoria gave a smirk. "Don't be a bad parent/mother/father, take care of your daughter. And, while you're at it, make her stop calling you those childish terms. Mother/Father would be better than 'MaMa/PaPa'," she mocked your daughter. Her gaze and tone grew more sassy and bitchy.

You slammed your hands on the table. Sending her a strong glare. "You shut your mouth."

"Oh, my bad. I didn't realize you were trying to be a good parental figure. But maybe you should let her stay cleaner. Brush her hair, keep her clothes neat, as a little girl needs to be. Neat," her tone began to sound bossy. She began to point out little things about Briar, things she 'needed' to change. Speaking how she wasn't acting like a girl should. "She should be wearing dresses and skirts, not whatever those are.. Girls should eat small portions or healthy things like salad, none of that... grease shit."

You blinked your eyes aggressively, trying not to yell at her. Trying not to snap at her. Trying not to... kill her. "Victoria..."

"Keep her slim. Keep her away from the messy girls and boys. Make her do ballet; force her to wear make-up. Keep her hair up, or neat, don't cut it like a boy. Keep her away from boys until she's older, make her date a sports player, or a jock," her eyes closed as she spoke like she knew what she was talking about.

You breathed in, trying to calm down. But it didn't work. Moving Briar to another seat, you stood up and moved around the table. Your hand landed with a harsh smack on her cheek. She gasped and held her cheek, looking at you with wide eyes.

"Don't. Tell. Me. How. To. Raise. My. FUCKING. DAUGHTER!" You yelled angerly, your hands immediately tightly hugging her neck. Your fingernails, being sharp already, dug into her skin, puncturing the top layer of flesh. The smell of blood barely reaches your nose as it slowly seeps from below your fingers.

Her hands reached up to try and pry your hands off. Her eyes began to water up quickly. Her breaths became more of a gasp. Weakly, she tried to speak and managed a few words, "Y/N.... ca.... breath.... sto... ple...." her eyes began to falter, and she struggled to breathe.

"Mama!/Papa!" Briar jumped out of her seat and ran over to you, tugging at your pants and hem of your shirt. "Don't hurt her!"

Hearing the quivering pleas of your daughter, you let go, and Victoria immediately gasped inward, rubbing her hands over the small puncture wounds on her neck. "What a shit example you are for your kid."

"Kill yourself," you muttered under your breath. "Oh! Do it in the way you did to me or to mom and dad! Or, I should make your child be a miscarriage like you did to our unborn brother."

Her eyes widened. Each of those she remembered. All of those deaths were fairly painful. Well, for your mother, especially on the miscarriage. You knew that because of her painful, echoing screams of pure agony. After all, her fetus was 7 months formed.

▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•

"Briar.... who's that lady?" Sundrop asked as he crouched down beside the blonde.

She glanced at you and Vict before looking at Sun, "That's my auntie... I suppose.. I don't think they like each other.." her voice was quiet, unsure.

"Ah....." he hummed softly, standing up straight. His head tilted, clicking as it does so. His rays retracted in and outward subtly. His scanners can read and tell the anger between the both of you.

He wanted to help solve this... anger, but figured it must be a personal, maybe even sensitive, thing. Or it's just something humans do. He wouldn't know.

"I don't like them being upset... Sunny.. please make them happy...." Briar pouted quietly. Her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes filled softly with tears.

Sun looked at her, then at you and Victoria, contemplating. "I don't think.. I should be involved..." he said to her. His tone was gentle, hoping not to make her more upset.

However, as the two were talking, they weren't aware of the conversation or the actions you and your twin were having.

"Y/N, what did you do to my husband," she spoke with an angered tone.

Your face formed a grin. "He was my husband first! We adopted Briar basically 3 years ago!"

"ANSWER ME! Don't dodge my fucking question, Y/N!" She took a step closer to you, her hands balling into fists.

You just stayed calm somehow. Your face smiling, but not in joy. "He's gone. Chopped up and completely elsewhere."

"You... you KILLED MY HUSBAND!?" Her eyes immediately filled with tears. Her voice was loud, the words seeming to echo around the room.

"Yeah, and?"

Victoria jumped forward and tackled you to the ground. Her hands tight around your throat. Her nails, duller than yours, weakly scratched the skin, unable to puncture the top layer of flesh. Her hands, her moves overall, were shaky. She couldn't bring herself to kill you. She couldn't do that again....

"Go on, Vicky, kill me like you've always wanted to. Become the favorite, even though you were already spoiled," your eyes widened with your words. Not in the sense of shock, but in the sense to add certain emotions...or emphasis... on your words.

Her voice quivered as she tried to speak. Her words are unheard of through a weak sob. How... pathetic.

Her hands let go, and she got off of you. But, you didn't do anything in return. You seemed to be kind.. and understanding for this. But why? How? Did you really even... care that she nearly killed you?

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Heya!

So! Why don't you care? Or, maybe you do.. who knows...  :>

Now then! Have a great Day/Night/Evening, my fellow weirdos!

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