Metamorphosis

The walk to the small supermarket took about 10 min either way. It could be faster if she took the shortcut through the park, but that had its own costs which she painfully recalled. She walked the long way. Along the cracked footpath, past the homeless tents, stepping over their faeces and discarded needles. The human refuse of society, slumped in impossible positions, passed out, or possibly even dead. Nobody would notice, nobody cared.

Her list didn’t contain much. Scribbled at the top was 2 quarts of Vodka. It was the first thing her mother would notice she was running low on. Not milk, bread, beans, or bacon. And now it’s routine to get two of them each time. Technically she was not allowed to buy them because of her age, but Saeed, the Iranian who ran the store knew all too well that Alice’s mother could hardly make it to the store and back, nor would it bode well for Alice if she didn't get her mother’s medicine. Margot was drinking more and more and only Alice and Saeed really knew it. And of course Omar, Saeed’s son, knew all too well too.

The weight of that poison in the plastic sacks would grate on her nerves as the plastic handles cut into her fingers. She needed to stop 2 times on the way home to let the circulation back into them. The tins and the bottle of Coke did not bother her because she would get something out of them, but all the Vodka ever brought her was abuse and pain.

Once Saeed almost refused to sell Alice the Vodka when he saw the state of her face. Mom had snapped a fuse while trying to cook in the kitchen and knocked some sense into her with the first thing that came to hand, the hot frying pan. Lucky for Alice it was some flimsy aluminium thing from Dollar General. But Saeed was now a co-conspirator. If he were to inform the police, he would incriminate himself.

Margot knew she had Saeed on her hook. For all her flaws, Mom knew how to play people. She honed her skills on dad, till he jumped.

The worst bit was getting through that sprung front door with both hands busy, then the climb up 5 flights of steep stairs all ending with the careful entrance. There was no telling what mood mom would be in, so bracing for the worst became the norm.

“Is that you Alice?” Margot barked with that raspy smoker's voice that could easily be mistaken for a man’s.

“Yes mom, I got everything on the list” she said meekly.

“Good.” She answered flatly.

As Alice was packing the groceries away in the kitchen, she could see the back of her mothers head on the lounge, and the ever present drone of the TV supplied the soundtrack for their lives.

“You were gone longer than usual, I started to worry”, it was not concern that edged her voice though. It was that familiar scorn searching for a target. 

“Ahh, there are ever more homeless people on the street and they are taking up more and more of the sidewalks, so it takes longer to walk, especially on the way back with the heavy bags.” Alice answered weakly.

“Fucking scum. Pathetic trash. Bring me a bottle you would love”. It always amazed Alice how her mother is able to flip her inflection between venomous disdain and syrupy sweetness. Her mother was an emotional minefield.

Alice immediately stopped her unpacking, grabbed a bottle and a glass and brought it to her. Her mother had just lit another cigarette. She did not even take her eyes off the TV as she reached out with her empty hand waiting to be served. Alice struggled with the bottle seal.

“Come on girl, stop babying that thing” she snapped with impatience, a shadow of the dark side.

She got the bottle open and poured her mother a small amount. Margot kept her hand out and expectantly cleared her throat. Alice poured more. Margot was only satisfied when her glass was half full.

“So was that the only reason you took so long?” her mother continued after her first drink. The relief cleared the edginess out of her voice. Alice had thought she was off the hook. Now she tensed with anxiety.

“Ah, yeah. There are even more of them out there on the street.” She answered with as much conviction as possible. But it was also true that she lingered to chat with her friend Omar, but it was only a short exchange. Is she timing me? Alice wondered.

“It's not that slimy Iranian’s son that kept you? Those filthy immigrants, and now all these pathetic homeless. They’re flushing us decent folk down the toilet” Margot was getting wound up into one of her rants. Alice could feel it and this is where things often got dicey.

Margot took another swig from her glass and drained it.

“Would you be a darling and refill me” she held out her glass expectantly contradicting the butteryness of the request. Alice obliged and refilled it a little higher. Maybe a little more this time will calm her mood. Immediately Alice lamented herself for such a stupid thought. More! Help! When has it ever helped?

“So you didn't answer me” Margot rolled her head around to face Alice holding her gaze with those cold icy blue eyes.

“Ah, about what?”

“About the real reason you took so long? It's that slimy, dark devil, Saeed’s son, what's his name again?”

“Omar” she answered a little too quickly.

“Aha, so it was that sneaky randy boy who delayed you. What did he want, or don't tell me, let me guess. He wants to stick his tongue down your throat, and maybe even more, hey?” Margot said with hardly contained lewd venom.

Alice was frozen, guilty, and uncovered. Yes, she liked Omar. Ever since Margot pulled her out of school, Alice had lost all her friends. Margot kept her close, and kept her busy. Omar was the only person her age that she had regular contact with, and yes, Omar was cute, and kind. And yes, she dreamt of kissing Omar's full dark lips one day, but she did not dare to hope. Hope was not something that she relied on these days.

As she stood there, bottle of Vodka in hand, desperately compiling a reply, Margot sat there boring her interrogating stare impatiently into Alice.

“No, it w…” That's all she got out as Margot whipped out her cane from between the sofa cushions and whacked Alice's arm painfully.

“Liar!” she harshly said. Alice winced from the stink of the blow.

“Liar, Liar, Liar, Liar, Liar, Liar…!” All the time whipping at Alice. She caught Alice a few times on her bare arms then one powerful blow right across the side of her bare neck. In trying to block one of the blows, Alice dropped the bottle of Vodka which smashed on the floor. This is bad, very bad.

“Argh the Vodka! You stupid little slut. Argh!” Her mother yelled, staring at the mess with clear distress and rising anger.

“You are going to pay for that in more ways than one girl!” And then came a fresh rain of blows. Margot was yelling incoherently in a blind rage. Alice balled up on the ground as the cane came down over and over again. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Most of the blows landed on her back, shins and arms. A particularly nasty one landed right on her fingernails igniting a kaleidoscope of bright stinging pain in her hand.

Margot had expended herself, and sat back down heavily to her seat, panting. A light sweat had broken out on her brow.

“You trollop. And you are clumsy and useless. How was I cursed with such a child? It was your fathers fault. His bad seed.” she spat at the curled and sobbing figure in the middle of the living room floor.

She was not yet finished, “I expect the day you announce you are pregnant with that arab scum’s seed.”

“I tell you what you are going to do now. You will clean up this mess, and then you will bring me the second bottle (thank the lords I had the foresight to get two), and then the bathroom needs a thorough cleaning.”

Alice got to her hands and knees and began to pick up pieces of glass from the reeking carpet when Margot realised her mistake.

“Bring me the bottle first, you stupid girl” she scolded and shook her head with despair at Alice’s lack of foresight.

Alice scampered into the kitchen and fetched the bottle and the dustpan. Now somewhat mollified, Margot opened the bottle and filled her glass to the top and took a deep draft. Alice worked in silence with her dustpan, but her fingernails were aching badly and one had already begun to turn an ugly dark red colour.

***

Alice had cleaned the bathroom thoroughly just two days before, but she strongly suspected that her mother suffered from OCD when it came to that bathroom. Now standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Alice could see the strike to her neck had drawn blood. She lifted her shirt and checked her back, which was crisscrossed with fresh welts on top of old scars from previous encounters. At least the cane is better than the power cord.

 She dare not dilly dally because Margot had an internal clock like an olympic timekeeper when it came to tasks. Margot always said that ‘idle hands are the devil's playground’, so Margot became very good at filling Alice’s day up with tasks, and when there were no more, there was always the bathroom to clean again.

Right on cue, her mother howled from the living room, “Are you done yet? You're not frigging yourself in there are you? Dreaming of that filthy arab. I certainly hope not. I have done my very best not to raise a harlot.”

Alice winced from the sermon. It was nothing new. Her mother had long been paranoid of her daughter's chastity, probably because she herself had failed to preserve her own for long. Alice had done the math, in four short years, she will be the same age as her mother when she first fell pregnant, and to add salaciousness, some doubt swirled whether in fact her father did the deed.

“Are you listening to me girl?” Margot's tone forewarned a possible second round of beatings.

“Yes, I am about finished.” She answered.

“Finished what? Frigging or cleaning?” Margot could not help but take another jab at her daughter.

“Cleaning. I am cleaning.”

“...because it's almost time for you to start preparing dinner.” Alice could hear the slur entering her mothers words. She had the bottle next to her now, so the brakes were off in that regard. Now finished with the bathroom, Alice walked through the living room, past her mother, to the kitchen to start cooking. She could not help but notice the bottle. It was now less than half full.

“I don't like the idea of that filthy randy arab ogling you each time you go to the supermarket. All he is interested in is poking you with his dick, then leaving you chained to a crying child for the next fifteen years of your life. A burden that will drain every last drop of energy and money out of you.”

“Like what happened to you?” Alice said quite conversationally, but she realised her mistake almost before she was done with the statement.

“You dare to second guess what happened to me, what I went through, how it all happened?” she barked from her seat. “You fucking rude and disrespectful tart. I am your MOTHER!”

Alice kept her back to the living room busy chopping up an onion. She had no idea what was coming. Margot’s ire had exploded but instead of continuing her triade, she rose, cane in hand, and entered the kitchen. Alice did not hear it over her chopping so it surprised her when Margot's cowardly attack began with a sharp poke from behind into her liver. Alice buckled with the pain and turned to meet a hail of blows to her head and shoulders. She still had the kitchen knife in her hands. There was no malice in the act, but that’s not what Margot wanted to see.

“You threaten me with a knife, bitch?” She was visibly swaying and her eyes were bloodshot, Her words were not so legible, but reading her face was enough. First there was a flash of fear, then it was quickly superseded by abject rage. Before Alice could retort, Margot whipped the hand holding the knife with a mighty swipe catching the fingertips again. Alice dropped the knife and yelped with renewed agony. All she could do was hold the wounded hand and crouch so as to weather the fresh rain of blow.

Margot overextended herself and lost her balance falling hard to the ground and losing her cane. The sudden silence brought Alice out of her protective pose.

“Don't just stand there, fetch me my cane, harlot” Margot demanded, lying on the floor.

Alice did as she was asked but as she clutched the object, the instrument of so much pain, something shifted in her. She approached her prone mother, about to pass the cane to her outstretched hand, but at the last moment she whipped at  her mother’s fingertips with a harsh blow. Margot yelped. Her eyes bulged with disbelief and she recoiled as Alice cocked her arm for another blow. The second blow was slow to arrive, as if her mind and body were in conflict about this new idea, but when it landed, the visceral pleasure of revenge overwhelmed her reason.

Margot managed to stand and immediately went for Alice, but her fuddled balance betrayed her. Alice nimbly dodged her mother’s attacks. A dangerous dance around the small living room ensued. Alice was in little immediate danger but a sinking realisation dawned. She could not imagine the scenario where this conflict gets resolved and life goes back to normal.

Margot lunged again for Alice and missed, just managed to catch herself on the open window ledge. Alice next did something that she would question the rest of her life. Seeing a moment of resolution at hand, she charged Margot and rammed into her hunched back with all her force. Margot tumbled out of the open window and only in a blind panic, did she manage to grip on the window sill from outside. She hung there in her nightie with pure confusion and horror. The alcohol haze was gone from her eyes and a profuse sweat had broken out on her brow.

Alice slowly approached the window. She could hear her whimpering mother, somewhere just below. All she could see was the nicotine stained fingers gripping for dear life to the flaking paint on the sill.

“Alice help me” demanded Margot. Her voice mingled with the street noise from below. Her voice, desperate and fearful. Alice had never heard it that way and it struck a chord in her which she was not expecting. Exhilaration. She was now in control and she liked it. And over that concentrated exhilaration, schadenfreude. Exhilarated schadenfreude, that's it! That is exactly what she was feeling and it felt good. Very good, and very righteous. Alice could hardly grasp that this is the moment when she could be free from the abuse. Forever!

Alice leaned out of the open window now. Her mother's fingers were white with strain. Her arms quivered with her last efforts to stay alive. Her eyes were pasted with mascara stained tears. Rivulets of it ran down her cheeks.

“Alice dear, save your mother. I will be good to you. You need me. Imagine what life will be like without me.” Margot wanted it to sound soothing and conciliatory, but the trembling voice betrayed her fear.

The last word from Margot sealed both of their fates.

“HELP” Margot screamed as loud as she could.

Alice could have done nothing. Retreated from the window and the result would have been the same, but she did something else. She whipped Margot’s fingers with the cane as the epilogue of her revenge. The last thing Alice remembered of her mother was the desperate howl of pain and her mother’s bulging eyes retreating rapidly as gravity embraced her for her final date with destiny on the concrete sidewalk far below.

***

Alice calmly sat in the courtroom as the judge passed down the guilty verdict. The videos clearly showed the last seconds of Margot’s life and Alice’s role in her murder. But Alice was not perturbed at all. Not with the verdict, nor the sentencing. She was now a new person. No longer a meek little girl, but a predator. The metamorphosis was complete. She was ready to wear the mantle of a stone cold killer, and she liked it!