The screams and yells of her parents are muffled. Kore’s green eyes are glazed as she sits pretending to listen to her family’s scolds and barbs. Her skin is pale enough to sparkle under the moonlight most days, but it is sallow today. Her legs are crossed under her plain, black, calf-length skirt, back slouched as it crumples her white dress shirt. Her dark blonde hair is perfectly kept, pulled into a tight bun. She sits at the dining room table, silently, dainty hands placed in her lap. To most she would seem like a perfect daughter, listening quietly. However, to her parents, she is an insolent child that cannot do anything correct. Her mother’s shrill voice cuts through the layer of dissociation she placed. “Kore?! Are you listening, you ungrateful brat?!”, her own mother shrieks. Kore lets out a slight sigh, “Yes, Mother. Are you done scolding me?”. Her father yells, voice booming, “Don’t give your mother attitude, you leach!”. Kore stares silently at their disheveled appearance. She can see the features of her parents that match her own. Her mother’s hair, her father’s skin, it goes on. Yet, she fails to understand how they can be so angry and hateful, all the time. She is a perfect student, receiving perfect grades and is always on the honor roll. She is never in trouble with her teachers. At home, she is invisible, never leaving a trace. Her parents treat her like the perfect daughter when others are watching. Yet, the moment she is left alone with her parents, they are vicious with their berating. They practically foam at the mouth as they rave at her about mistakes she has not committed. Her eyes narrow and she scowls. Her mother snipes at her, “What are you scowling at, parasite?”. Kore looks at her mother and plainly says, “You. Both of you.”. Kore rises from her seat, watching her parents sputter and their faces contort into confusion. Kore’s face is calm, as a storm rages inside. She says calmly as she moves to leave to her room in the attic, “I have no desire to listen to your griping of falsity. You lack the constitution of real parents, so please, screech at each other about your own mistakes if you must. Good evening.”. Her parents faces contort into unbridled rage. Her father’s hand comes down upon Kore, a resounding crack echoing in the air. Kore falls, something inside her cracking like the sound of her father’s hand upon her face. She does not hear her parent’s berating, blood rushing in her ear. Kore feels and hears more cracks, but they do not come from her parents. They come from her body, as the dam inside her bones breaks. The storm that has long been festering inside, comes rushing out. Her bones shift and change under her skin. They become larger and longer, stretching her skin taut. Her fingernails lengthen, blackening with her own rage. Spines erupt from her skin on her back and joints. They are black, like her nails. Her parents have gone silent by now, not that she can hear them. Her lips split, reaching her eyes and revealing her teeth that have lengthened, sharpened to a point. The skin of her extremities turns black, like the spines and claws. Glowing green veins snake up her limbs. Her eyes are the last to change, filling with ink. A ring of glowing green is all that is left. Such eyes snap to those that were her parents, malice and wrath apparent in them. The former parents are frozen in place, horror having long replaced their own rage. They turn pale when a guttural snarl escapes the former girl’s throat. She lunges and their screams can be heard from down the street as every ounce of wrath they put out, turns to devour them.
romaincrisis
