The Fox And Her Troublemakers

I Hate This Place

Cécile's P.O.V.
I hate this place. I hate the people, I hate the food, I hate the flipping building itself. I was storming down the hall as yet another stupid bitch had made some stupid comment about whichever one of my flaws. At this point, the insults all just blur together.

They all seriously need to grow up. Just because I get to leave for most of the year doesn't mean they need to get pissy. Honestly, the only reason most of them got to leave was because compared to me, they were all better to take. I'd been brought back more times than all fourteen of the others put together. I had a fear of new places when I was younger, and fear triggers magic, so they all thought I was possessed by the devil or some stupid shit.

I got into my room, slamming the door behind me. I locked it, grabbing the nearest thing to me, which happened to be Marya's (pronounced muh-rye-uh) jewelry box. Oops. I fucking hate this place and the people in it. Sucks for Marya. "Cecile!" Ms. Laura called from downstairs. Stupid bitch always pronounces my name wrong.

"Yeah?!" I called back.
"Get your arse down here and do your damn chores!"

Did I forget to mention how hateful she was? "Coming!" I unlocked the door, leaving Marya's jewelry box on the floor when I left. I stomped down the stairs loudly, just to piss her off. I knew I'd succeeded when she was glaring at me hard at the bottom of the stairs. I grinned a sarcastic, innocent grin at her and walked into the kitchen, filling up the sink with hot, soapy water.

I grabbed the cups first, washing them quickly. Next was the bowls. I hate doing dishes. There are fucking fifteen of us. I finished the plates after the bowls, the silverware next. At this point I'd been here for probably about an hour and a half, and my back was getting sore. Just the silverware left. Cécile, you got this. I grabbed the silverware, putting it all in the sink, leaving the knives on the back.

I was in the process of washing the last few forks when Natasha walked downstairs. Awesome, I thought sarcastically. I just decided to ignore her. Just because she was down here didn't necessarily mean she came to ruin my life, right? Wrong.

She walked over to the sink, 'tripping,' and knocking into the counter, knocking the knives into the sink. "Oops," she giggled childishly and fakely, "sorry, Cécile.'

"Yeah, sure you are," I mumbled.
"What was that?" She asked viciously.

"Oh, nothing," I said loudly, "just that you're a terrible actress." Her jaw dropped, her innocent demeanor instantly changed to bitchy.

"Oh, really?" She asked me rudely.
"Yeah," I said sassily, "really."
"I am an excellent actress."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Maybe then, the rest of us will agree simply because you're annoying." She glared at me, getting ready to slap me. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," I told her threateningly.

"Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do?" She asked me, amused.

"I'm not sure. I just plan on letting the demon inside me take control. I can never tell what it's gonna do..." I trailed off. Her eyes widened, and she turned and ran up the stairs. Stupid cowardly bitch...

I went back to the dishes, reaching into the water and forgetting about the knives. There was a sudden stinging in my hand, and I immediately pulled it out of the water. "Ow, fuck," I said under my breath. I examined my hand, not seeing anything. I figured I just imagined it, and went back to doing the dishes. I was about to grab the dish cloth again, when I seen one whole half of my hand covered in blood. What the hell? I stepped away from the sink, examining my hand better. I seen a long, narrow slice along the palm of my hand, oozing blood. "Shit," I muttered. Why is it always the small cuts that bleed the most, and why does it always hurt the most?