Chapter 5: The Snake's Venom
The desperation of a parasite when the blood supply stops is a terrifying thing to witness.
By Friday evening, Gertrude and Prudence had turned vicious. The heat inside their wing of the house had made them manic, their expensive clothes crumpled, their hair stringy. They had stopped trying to convince me to leave; instead, they turned their weapons back onto the only target they knew how to hurt.
Sarah.
I had gone into town to buy fresh groceries and proper clothing for Jamie. I was gone for exactly forty-five minutes.
When I returned, the iron gates of the estate were wide open. I parked the truck and ran up the stairs to the second floor, my heart pounding with an old, dark instinct.
The door to the master suite had been splintered open with a heavy decorative brass fire poker from the downstairs hearth.
Inside, Sarah was cornered against the large window, holding Jamie behind her back. Prudence was standing over her, her face twisted with rage, her fingers clutched around Sarah’s hair, trying to drag her toward the stairs. Gertrude was behind her, holding a black garbage bag, tossing Sarah’s few spare outfits into it.
"Get out of our house!" Prudence shrieked, slamming Sarah’s head against the wooden window frame. "You trash! You ruined everything! If you hadn't stayed here, Julian would have never found out! You did this on purpose!"
Jamie was screaming, his small hands pulling at Prudence’s silk skirt, trying to save his mother. "Don't hurt Mommy! Don't hurt Mommy!"
The world went entirely red.
I didn't shout. I didn't make a sound.
I crossed the room in two strides. I grabbed Prudence by the back of her neck, my fingers locking around her collar like a vice, and ripped her away from Sarah with enough force to send her crashing into the heavy mahogany dresser. The perfume bottles on top shattered, filling the room with a sickeningly sweet scent.
Gertrude let out a sharp cry, dropping the garbage bag. "Julian! Don't you dare touch your sister!"
I turned on my mother, my face inches from hers. The sheer, unadulterated violence in my expression made the older woman take three steps backward until her knees hit the edge of the bed.
"If either of you breathes the same air as my wife again," I said, my voice shaking with a rage that was barely human, "I won't call the police. I won't call the lawyers. I will handle this myself, and the state of New York won't have enough water to wash what's left of you off the floor."
I knelt down, pulling Sarah into my arms. Her forehead was bleeding where Prudence had smashed it against the frame, a thin trail of crimson running down her pale cheek. Jamie was shaking so violently his teeth were chattering.
"Julian..." Sarah whispered, her hand clutching my blood-stained shirt. "Please... take us away from here. I don't want the mansion. I don't want the money. I just want to go somewhere where they can't find us."
I looked around the massive, expensive room—the marble fireplace, the gold-leaf molding, the silk drapes. It was a monument of greed, built on the suffering of the people I loved most.
"We're leaving," I said, lifting Jamie into my arms and helping Sarah stand. "But we aren't losing. We're just preparing the clearing."
As we walked out of the room, Prudence sat up from the floor, her cheek bruised, her hair wild. "Go!" she screamed through her tears. "Run away to a motel! The house is still ours! You can't live here without our permission! We won!"
May you like
I stopped at the top of the stairs, looking back at them one final time.
"You haven't won anything, Prudence," I said. "You just inherited the maintenance bills."
