Fictionista Witfit – January 18, 2013
Music Challenge: Put Down the Gun by ZZ Ward
The audacity of the situation is absurd.
We’ve been step-sisters since we were eight years old and Renee married Phil. I’ve been putting up with her bullshit ever since. She’s like an STD—every time you think you’re finally rid of her, she comes back with a vengeance.
Tanya Denali is an innocent-looking strawberry blonde angel with shark teeth and devil horns.
When you first meet her, she comes across as cheerful and naïve. She blinks long lashes over big blue eyes and pouts full precious lips up at you as if she’s hanging onto your every word. She’ll twirl a golden spiraled lock around her finger and touch you gently as she smiles and laughs at everything you say. Her charm is like a fresh spray of perfume—it clings to your clothes and fills your senses. By then you’re under her spell, offering a dopey smirk and gazing down at her with rose-tinted glasses.
That’s when you know you’re fucked, because by then it’s too late. She’s got you. You’re trapped with no way out. She lingers even when she’s not there. Her words haunt and follow wherever you go until she’s all you think about, she’s all you want—need—crave. She’s like a drug that you’ve become addicted to.
I’ve seen it time and time again.
Some poor sap falls for her, calls her non-stop, sends her flowers and buys her pretty things. Not knowing that she’s playing him for a fool. Not knowing that he is only one of many and temporary at that. For years I’ve witnessed and stood by while a trail of broken hearts littered our walkway to the house.
I know, because I’ve been the one to deliver the harsh blow each and every time. A ring at the door, a honk on the driveway, a knock against the front double doors, and even sometimes a light tap at her window. They know its coming, they know it’s never going to last, and yet they continuously allow her to sink her well manicured claws deep into their flesh.
She hunts them like deer in the woods.
She plucks them like fish in a pond.
She never fails and she loves to gloat and I’ve never cared. I sit beside her while she giggles and laughs and tells me things I don’t want to know. She showcases her many gifts and trinkets, sometimes pawning them off onto me when she disapproves. I listen and nod and smile and pretend to listen because its better than the alternative—her irrational wrath.
Not once have I ever cared about her conquests—until today.
“What do you think about Edward Cullen?” she asks in an airy voice as she stands before her closet in only her underwear.
Slowly, I set the magazine I was reading down onto my lap and look up at her.
“What about him?” I ask carefully.
Don’t show too much interest, she’ll suspect something—don’t let her find out. Like voices in my head, my subconscious whispers low and cautions me to keep quiet.
She spins around to face me and the arch of her brow and curl of her lip says everything.
I gulp. She tilts her head and takes one step toward the bed I sit upon.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” Her eyes blink with false virtue.
My head moves side to side slowly.
“Did you think you could keep this a secret forever?” She lifts one naked knee and sets it down on the edge of the mattress.
My eyes sting with unshed tears, my throat burns in ache and I swallow down the fear like poison. “I don’t know what you mean, Tanya.”
She begins a slow crawl up towards me at the headboard. “I mean that you have something I want, Isabella…” she reaches out to trail her fingernails up the side of my arm then leans in dangerously close so that her nose nearly touches mine. “Give him to me.”
“No.” It comes out hoarse, but firm.
It shocks her so badly that she falls back onto her heels. “Excuse me?”
“I’ve given you everything you’ve ever asked of me, Tanya. But this is something you will have to pry from my cold dead hands.” My jaw set tight, I slide out from the bed and stand over her confidently. “And still,” I laugh tiredly, “you won’t let this go. You won’t allow me this one thing.”
Her face hardens, and for a moment she resembles a demon, as if her mask of beauty hasn’t been applied correctly and through the cracks I see her true self. All my life I’ve stood by and let her take over every aspect of my life until I feel as if I’m merely her puppet—a toy for her enjoyment only. She pulls at my strings and I dance at her will.
“I’m giving you a chance that I do not afford anyone, Isabella. I’m advising you beforehand to sever whatever attachment you have of him and forego the pain you will feel when I claim him.” She has the nerve to appear as if she grants charity.
I snort and shake my head at her, followed by a laugh I’ve never experienced before. Confidence, strength, fearlessness. I know in my heart that she hasn’t a chance in hell. So I will allow her to peruse him, I won’t even fight it, nor will I warn Edward.
It’s time for Tanya to fall flat on her face.
Knowing this, I smile and bend over so that my nose brushes hers softly. “Thank you, darling. I do appreciate your sisterly advice. I will take it into consideration, and interpret what is necessary.”
She blinks in confusion.
I grin. “Game on, dearest.”
I kiss her nose and walk out the room.