Angel Confronts Her Mother
Angel donned her prettiest dress, her most fetching hat—the latest style. Her black lace-up riding boots made no noise as she took slow steps to her mother’s room.
The door creaked as she pushed it open, the sound like the cranking of chains lowering a coffin into the ground.
Annabelle (?) Browning jumped in her bed as Angel made her first loud step into the room. A smile began on the older woman’s face, then quickly froze as she saw the glare of hatred in her only daughter’s eyes. (author's note: forgot first name of character, will fix in revision)
“Hello, mother.” The voice dripped sarcasm and disdain. “You gave birth to me; you raised me; but you have never treated me like a daughter.” A muscle throbbed in Angel’s neck. Her blue eyes turned a deep gray. Her venom-filled voice sounded like the rasp of a demon. She flung the birth record at her mother. “I was raised on a lie. Does Father know of your liaison with Mr. Jackson? Does he know I’m the product of that tryst? How long did it last? Were you shamed? Was he already married to Fawn’s mother? You never wanted me so why didn’t you let him raise me? Fawn and I could have been brought up as sisters. I could have had a mother that loved me, like Fawn did. I hate you. Do you hear me? I hate you.”
Angel picked up a pillow from a chair in the room and started toward her mot...