Devil's Daughter

Mary Stark’s morning routine was entirely mundane. Wake up at 6 am, exercise for 45 minutes, shower, get ready for work, and feed herself and her cat, Avery.

Mary’s job as an administrative assistant at a law firm was also mundane. She did the same things everyday - kept the coffee pot full, answered the phone, greeted visitors, scheduled appointments, ordered supplies, and fulfilled the attorneys’ requests. 

Mary’s evenings were also the same most of the time. Go home, make dinner, feed the cat, and watch tv or read.

From the outside looking in, some people might call Mary’s life boring. But it was exactly what she wanted. Orderly, quiet and predictable. As a child, a boring life only existed in her dreams.

The turbulence and chaos of her childhood was something she tried hard not to think about. It got easier as time went on. She looked back in her mind and felt like a spectator, not the person who had experienced those events.

Unfortunately, the memories came back the day she checked her email and saw that her Aunt June had sent her a message. 

Her heart raced and her mouth felt like cotton. She hadn’t talked to Aunt June in many years. She didn’t give anyone in her family her contact information, and she hadn’t thought any of them knew her last name, which she kept even after her brief marriage ended to stay hidden from the people in her past. 

She supposed in this Information Age, all it took to find her was a web search. It didn’t matter. The Email was there, and she had to decide whether or not to read it.

Did she want to learn something she may not want to know and wouldn’t have any tangible effect on her life? Or did Aunt June actually have something important to tell her?

She decided to make the decision after work. Though she knew she was just postponing the inevitable.

Despite a fairly busy day, the hours dragged by slowly as she tried not to think about The Email. 

…

Mary sat down on her couch and opened her laptop’s lid. She had a feeling she was going to regret it, but she was going to read The Email.

While she waited for her computer to boot up, she took a few sips of wine, hoping it would take the edge off of her anxiety. 

She opened her inbox and stared at The Email for a few moments. Finally, she clicked on it.

Hello Mary, 

I hope you are well. I know you aren’t interested in talking to me, but please keep reading. This is important.

I believe you, Mary. I believe everything you told me when you were growing up. I’m sorry I doubted you. I should have been your advocate, but instead I chose to live in denial.

Over the past few years, it’s become increasingly obvious that your mother is unstable at best, and a sociopath at worst. Everyone here sees it now. She no longer has the ability to hide her true personality. She’s alienated everyone who ever cared about her and got into more and more trouble, including spending time in prison. 

I’m afraid she’s become quite dangerous at this point. She threatens anyone who tries to help her. What troubles me most, and is my reason for writing, is that she is obsessed with you. She blames everything bad in her life on you, and, at first, it seemed to be all talk. But she’s quite irrational and unpredictable now, so I fear that she will find you. If that happens, I don’t know what she’ll do. I have a hard time picturing her being violent, but she would most certainly disrupt your life. I just don’t know how much.

No matter, I’m sure you don’t want your life touched by her at all, and I don’t blame you for that. So I’m writing to warn you that she may turn up, and you can do what you will to prepare, or not, if the situation should arise.

If you would like to talk, please email me back or call me at 555-581-3731. I would love to talk to you, Mary. 

Love, 

Aunt June

…

Mary sat, stunned. She’d thought and hoped that her mother had willfully forgotten her by now. She’d left home at 16 and been on her own now for 20 years. And the night that she’d left, the woman had told her that she didn’t care if she ever saw Mary again.

But she wasn’t surprised that her mother was blaming Mary for her problems. She’d always done that. When a relationship didn’t work out, it was because of Mary. If she didn’t have enough money to buy what she wanted, it was because of Mary. She’d never wanted Mary and didn’t hide the fact. 

Mary assumed her mother’s life hadn’t gone how she’d wanted after Mary left, but her mother still couldn’t take responsibility for her own life. 

She thought back to her childhood and her Aunt June and all the other adults she’d begged to help her. She told them the truth about her mother when she’d been very young, but they’d insisted that Mary just had a vivid imagination. Mary’s mother was sweet, funny, beautiful and would give anyone a helping hand.

There was no way that Magdalena Cosgrove was actually a monster. A monster who beat her child when something angered her at work, withheld food because she needed control, and even “accidentally” ran over her ex’s cat before he could take the cat to his new apartment.   

No, those were all stories little Mary made up because she wanted attention. Magdalena kept a spotless home, there was always food in the kitchen, and she loved animals. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.

These resurfaced memories made Mary’s blood boil. She’d spent countless hours in therapy working through her childhood and was past it. She didn’t need even the idea of Magdalena in her life.

She felt panic starting to creep in. She got up, walked to her bedroom and looked around. Maybe she would just leave. Pack her things, get on a bus, and find somewhere else to start over. Make it harder to find her. 

But she liked her apartment and her job. She liked the life she’d built for herself. Why should she change her whole life for an unlikely scenario?

The more she thought about it, the more she knew she would stay. Her mother probably wouldn’t bother coming here after all these years, and, even if she did, Mary didn’t have to talk to her. She could tell her to leave. She was an adult and her mother no longer had any control over her. 

…

The days and weeks passed, and Mary’s tension eased a little each day. After a few months, she even stopped looking over her shoulder constantly.

Then, one day after work, as she approached her apartment, she saw a figure leaning against the wall opposite her door. The person had already seen Mary, so there was no point in trying to go back where she’d come from. The figure straightened as Mary got closer.

It was a woman, but not Mary’s mother. Mary guessed her to be in her early 40s, but she had a face that could look older or younger, depending on her expression. Her bright blonde hair hung down her back. She was extremely thin, and wore a t-shirt and jeans that clung to her legs.

“Mary?,” the woman said.

“Who are you?,” Mary replied.

“My name is Georgie. I’m your sister. Can I come in and talk?”

Striving for the authority of the attorneys she worked with, Mary said, “I don’t have a sister, you must be mistaken. Please leave so I can enter my residence.”

“Mary Stark? Formerly Mary Cosgrove, daughter of Magdalena Cosgrove? I recognize you from pictures I’ve seen, please let me explain,” Georgie stated, with as much confidence as Mary had just tried to show.

Mary thought about it. She didn’t believe this woman and would not bring a stranger into her home. 

Mary hadn’t realized it, but she’d let her attention wander. The next thing she knew, George was standing in front of her, holding a knife in her right hand. She grabbed Mary’s forearm with her left hand and pulled Mary close. 

“Listen, Mary. I was hoping you wouldn’t make this so difficult. I need to talk to you. You are going to slowly - very slowly - take the key to your apartment out from your purse or pocket or wherever you keep it, and open the door. I’m stronger than I look, so don’t mess with me,” Georgie said.

Mary waited too long, and Georgie stuck the very tip of the knife into Mary’s ribs. “Can you imagine this knife going into your ribcage, Mary? I’ll do it if you don’t hurry.”

Mary put her hand into her coat’s pocket and brought out her keyring. She didn’t want to let Georgie into the place she considered her safe haven, but she didn’t see a choice. Once her keys were in sight, Georgie maneuvered her to the door. Mary’s hand shook as she tried to insert the key. Once she finally got it, Georgie shoved inside the apartment and shut and locked the door behind them.

Georgie looked around. “This isn’t all that great. I expected something nicer.”

“What do you want, Georgie?” Mary asked, backing into one of the living room walls.

“I just want to talk, Mary. That’s all,” Georgie snarled. “You know what? I’m so tired of this. Tired of being me. My whole life, everything felt wrong. I was supposed to have a different life. I always knew it.”

Georgie paused. 

“That doesn’t tell me what you want from me, Georgie! I have no idea who you are!” Mary shouted.

“Keep it down, or I’ll have to gag you. I told you, I’m your sister. I know you don’t know about me. I’m a dirty secret. Our mother got pregnant with me when she was 15. She was sent to live with our dad’s cousin, Sal, and his wife, Clare, in West Virginia. She had me, then left me with Sal and Clare.

“She went back to her family, and everyone pretended that I had never existed. Then, dad knocked mom up again a few years later, but she kept the baby this time. Dad didn’t want a kid and went back to West Virginia. Not long after, he was killed in a drunk driving accident after a long night at a bar.

“I was raised by Sal and Clare. We were dirt poor, and Sal used to beat me senseless. Clare was a miserable bitch. She took me in because Sal wanted a kid, but she hadn’t been able to get pregnant. Then when she saw how much prettier I was getting than her, she was jealous and made life a living hell for me.

“She told me about mom when I was a teenager, but didn’t give me enough details to find her. Sal wouldn’t talk to me about her, either. Eventually, Clare died and then Sal. I was finally able to get into their papers and find what I needed.

“I first visited our mother a few years ago. She wasn’t happy to see me. She said that she didn’t want to remember that part of her life, and I was not her daughter. But, Mary, you know that’s not true. I still have her DNA. Your DNA. So I decided that she needed punished. 

“You know, she’s rather pathetic. Talks a big game, but is really just an old, scared, little mouse. Everyone thinks she got into drugs and went crazy, not knowing that I’ve helped her with that along the way,” George paused, and smiled. “And I threatened her, so she didn't tell anyone about me. She’s so scared of me. Everyone thinks she’s talking about you, when, really, she’s talking about me.” 

“What is wrong with you, Georgie?,” Mary asked. “I never did anything to you. Whether this story is true or not, I’ve never been involved.”

“That’s the problem, Mary. You should know about me. We should have grown up in the same home with the same mom. Instead, I grew up in a shithole in the middle of nowhere with people who didn’t care about me, and you grew up in a nice little town with a real mother.”

“Georgie, you have no idea what you’re talking about. My life was anything but sunshine and roses. You may think the grass is greener, but it’s not always. Please put the knife down and we can have a real conversation about this.”

“NO!,” Georgie shrieked, and suddenly came at Mary, raising the knife.

Mary dropped to the floor and rolled into Georgie’s legs. Georgie fell, stabbing the knife into the carpet. Mary hit Georgie's arm, trying to loosen her grip on the knife. Georgie pulled the knife up and tried to swing toward her, but Mary was able to push her down again.

Mary scrambled up Georgie’s back and grabbed her hand that held the knife. She opened Georgie’s fingers and took the knife, relieved. As she pulled back, Georgie got up forcefully. Mary, who was only thinking of getting to her phone to call 911, fell backwards off of Georgie.

Georgie went for the knife and grabbed the blade. She cried out as her hand was cut but didn’t let go. Mary was mesmerized by the blood that started running down Georgie’s hand and arm. 

“Just let go Georgie, you hurt yourself. That’s enough. I want to know you. We don’t have to be enemies.”

Georgie gave Mary a big, deranged smile. “I don’t want to know you Mary, haven’t you figured that out? I know enough about you. I want you gone. That’s what I want.”

With that, she pulled even harder on the blade, but her blood-covered hand slipped off. Mary pulled the knife back, away from Georgie. But Georgie lunged at her, and Mary instinctively pushed the knife forward and into Georgie’s abdomen. 

Georgie screamed, and fell to the floor. Blood poured out of her wound. 

Mary was horrified and knelt beside Georgie. 

She was still there, next to her lifeless sister, when the police showed up to investigate a disturbance coming from her apartment.