Page 126 of Cruel Pleasures

“Whose antics? I’m simply here to visit my lovely mother. Remember how you couldn’t wait to see your sweet boy?”

“I said this isn’t the time!” she shrieks.

“It is to me, Mother. So we’re going to do this right now.”

“You will address me properly!”

“I just did.”

She’s eased back some more, ’til she can no longer go anywhere. The window ledge reminds her how trapped she is. She braces a hand against the wall and puffs out a struggling breath from beneath the mask she wears.

It’s obvious what’s happening. I’ve seen it a thousand times before, on and off throughout my childhood. Moments where she’d shift from one half of herself to the other. Usually, there was a phrase or person that triggered her. Even something as basic as a photograph…

In this case, it’s me. It’s the unfortunate reality I present when she’s trying to do anything to forget.

Imani glances between us, her soft features knitted in confusion. “What’s going on? What am I missing?”

“My Mother’s a little upset right now,” I say. “Aren’t you, Mother?”

“I’m not… stop… don’t you dare—” she sputters.

“What’s the matter? You can always tell me. Your special sweet boy.”

“I SAID STOP IT!” she screeches with such guttural torment that her voice breaks. She explodes in a burst of movement, swinging her arms and destroying anything within reach. The brass table lamp slams into the hardwood floor with a resounding crash. The vase of fresh flowers gets chucked halfway across the room.

Imani and Ryu duck just in time to miss the projectile that shatters against the wall behind them.

She moves on like a destructive hurricane, tearing pages from books and ripping the drapes from the rods they hang off. At the gold-gilded mirror on the wall, the reflection of a woman whose mask has started to slip off stares back at her.

Yet another bloodcurdling scream rings throughout the room.

It’s a scream of pure disgust and rage.

Ripping the mirror off the wall, she smashes it to a million pieces on the floor. The glass cracks and various chunks bounce back up from the force of the crash. Mother doesn’t care as she heaves breaths that sound like they belong to a beast five times her size.

Hair disheveled and skin splotchy, she peers around the room at us.

Mother’s mouth falls open with a shriek of cackling laughter. “Don’t shy away now! You wanted to see the truth—here I am! HERE I AM!”

I fold my arms, unfazed. “Take off your mask. Show them what you really look like.”

“Don’t you start!” she spits at me. “You know exactly why I do what I do! You know all about it because it’s all your fault!”

“Look,” Imani interjects, both hands held up, “let us off this damn isle. I don’t care about your family drama.”

Mother’s head snaps in Imani’s direction. “You’re not going anywhere. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re stuck here with me. I brought you here for one purpose and one purpose only… and you’ve failed. You were bait, you stupid foolish girl! And since you couldn’t even do that, you’re done for! I’ll end you myself?—”

“You’ll end no one,” I say. “Except for yourself if you choose, you miserable bitch.”

“And you’re an ungrateful piece of human excrement! It’s not enough that you ruined my life, you ruined everything, and you think you’ll get your way? Not this time! I REFUSE!”

Imani takes a step forward. “Who am I bait for?”

Mother hardly hears her question. She’s locked into the deep vitriolic feelings she’s always had for me. During my childhood, when she was lucid enough to recognize I was her son, she’d stare at me like this.

With pure, unfiltered loathing.

The kind of hate one has for their mortal enemy.