Page 47 of Beneath Her Skin

I’m ready to slay the demons that chain me down and break free.

2

TIANA

Ping!

That’s the second time my phone goes off. It must be Elias telling me he’s here. A loud chime sounds throughout the house shortly after, signaling the doorbell has been rung.

Mama stops me in my tracks. “Finish setting the table and bring out the food while I get the door. You need to do something around here and get off your lazy ass anyway.”

My retort burns when I swallow it back and do what she says. As always. By the time I’m finished setting the plates and silverware, the room is still empty without a sound to be heard. Did they leave?

Curiosity propels me toward the front door, but I’m soon frozen in place when I peek into the foyer. My hand slaps over my mouth to conceal any sounds wanting to escape me. It should both surprise and hurt me more that my fucking mother is sticking her tongue down my boyfriend’s throat, yet all it does is fan the flames of rage until that inferno spreads like wildfire.

Fuck this.

I fucking knew there was something strange about the way she always found a way to spend time with him. It should’ve tipped me off when he would take her side in any discussion, both of them pushing me to the point where I would have to excuse myself in order to compose myself.

Fuck them.

My ears buzz unbearably as tears threaten to rise to the surface.Not here.I need to get the hell away from them right now before I act without thinking. The walls seem to close in on me as I make a run for it out the back doors, collapsing in the garden as the tears flow freely.

Fuck the world.

I would burn alongside them, if only to watch them suffer and repent with my own eyes.

What am I meant to do with all this pain? Continue to swallow it for dinner in hopes that I become accustomed to the taste? No. No, they need to learn that their actions come with grave consequences. Is that not what they’ve both been teaching me for as long as they could? Tonight, they’ll have a taste of their own medicine. As I look at the garden, an idea strikes me. One that I’ve been keeping in my back pocket for over two years—almost literally.

As an experiment, I planted Valerian roots in the back with my mother being none the wiser. I’ve gone down countless rabbit holes on how to use it against others. I’ve already ground the roots into a baggie of fine dust, yet I could never bring myself to use it.

Sobs turn into laughter as everything inside of me burns with a passion that I’ll wear like a second coat. They make everything seem like it’s my fault. I’m the broken girlfriend. I’m the horrible daughter.

They wanted to paint me as the villain...Let me show them what a villain truly looks like.

The thread that was holding my composure has finally snapped and not one part of me wants to mend it. I want to nurture my pain and paint this town crimson. Like a switch flipping, I see the world through rose-colored glasses. I must have fallen in love with my rage somewhere along the way. All I feel is conviction with a slight thrill as the blood in my veins simmers.

Carrying myself with a newfound confidence, I dash into my room and then right back to the kitchen. Time to see if this powder I made will work the way I’ll need it to. A musty odor akin to dirty socks attacks my nose as soon as I open the jar. Luckily, we’re having paella with saffron-infused rice, shrimp, chicken, and a mix of vegetables. Those scents will hopefully be strong enough to mask it.

Elias’ voice can be faintly heard from the dining table as he talks with my mother,his secret lover.No time to dwell on anything other than the present and moving forward. To not raise suspicion, I sprinkle some paprika and black pepper over the dish. “For the final touch,” I mutter aloud while sprinkling the beige powder from my special jar. Despite the erratic pounding of my heart, my hand remains steady.

They pushed me here. They brought this upon themselves, I think, my lip tipping up at the sides.

“Took you long enough,” Mama grumbles, her face dropping as soon as I enter the room.

I’m sure my absence was the highlight of her night so far.

“Baby, aren’t you going to serve me?” Elias asks when I silently take my seat.

Since our very first meal together, he’s asked me that as if it’s expected of me. Usually, I argue until I give in or just relent in the beginning. This time, I’m ready to serve him a good amount with extraseasoning. As dinner goes on, I’m almost giddywatching them dig into the meal while I push my food around my plate.

It doesn’t take long before the tensions ease from their shoulders, almost unnoticeably. They’re extremely relaxed, but Elias is never relaxed—not really—and Mama only lets loose when she drinks. Elias is always putting on different masks, coiled so tight he doesn’t let his guard down even when heisdrunk.

Drunk. That’s exactly what they seem to be.

They both look as if they’ve had a few glasses of wine and it’s starting to hit them all at once, their slurred words making less sense as the minutes tick by. Their blissful ignorance of what’s happening to them is somewhat entertaining.

I know something you don’t know.

---