Red

Chapter Eight

Calloused hand met a clammy cheek. A single hand hurried to caress the wounded flesh. Red blinded opalescent eyes, and the hand that meant to soothe retched back and swung forward, colliding with the old woman's cheek.

The sound resonated in the cottage and both women stood in shock. Valentina wasn't entirely sure what to do next until her grandmother's eyes hardened. She ducked, successfully avoiding the fist being hurled at her. Strong hands pushed at elderly thighs, disrupting the woman's balance and forcing her to stumble backwards.

Val stood quickly, stepping back and trying to gauge her next move. She had never fought back, never fought in general, and was unsure if there was a certain code of conduct.

"You worthless shit," her grandmother cursed and turned, reaching for the metal fire-poker besides the fireplace.

Instinct took over, conduct be damned. Valentina ran to the kitchen, grabbing the knife she had used to dice the potatoes. Her hand shook, grasping the handle too tight. Both sets of eyes were locked, the elderly woman making her way closer ever so slowly and the brunette holding her ground.

Millions of thoughts raced through the young girl's head. She imagined the scenarios that would play out—they could call a truce and forget this ever happened, her grandmother would steal her life, or Val would steal hers'. The first was implausible. Her grandmother did not back down from a fight; she instigated, provoked, and was determined to win. This would end one way.

One of them would be buried come morning.

The brunette extended one hand, palm forward. "I don't wish to hurt you."

A harsh cackle slipped past dry lips. "Stupid girl. You should have kept your filthy mouth shut."

The long rod was forced forward, inches from the brunette's stomach. Swift feet jumped back, avoiding the strike. Val was cornered between the counters and the back wall, left with no other option than to defend herself. With a slight sidestep to avoid another strike, she became offensive.

Nimble limbs twisted, free hand grabbing the stem of the poker as it was being pulled away. Retching the instrument toward her, Val rolled her wrist, breaking her grandmother's grasp on the object. Shock adorned wrinkled skin, but fire sat beneath green eye. Valentina advanced, knife still in hand. She left the poker behind, tossing it to the ground. 

She watched as her grandmother's eyes switched their gaze between herself and various areas of the room. It was like she was trying to find another way, or another weapon, but the young woman was determined. 

"We can end this," She reasoned, matching each step backwards with the opposite. "I can put the knife down, you can be kinder to me, and we can go on as is never happened."

Pale yellow teeth snarled at her. "Insolent child, it's far too late for that." The women began circling each other until their positions were reversed, the old woman's back to the counter. "You should have left just like your mother did."

"She left because of you!"

They were almost evenly matched--Valentina with a slight edge because of her weapon. Tension filled the room, resentment wafting off of both bodies. 

"Is that what you think?" Her grandmother laughed bitterly. "She left because she knew you were ungrateful, worthless even. She realized she was better off without having to care for you. She left because of you."