cora salvatore { two { finished

I hate this goddamn house.

It's too damn empty. And I take that with a grain of salt because there's loads of us here. Or rather a whole tablespoon full of salt. I'm salty. Whatever. Bitch got an attitude, whatever. Rolling my eyes so far into the back of my head they do a 360 turn. I used to be able to do this thing where I only showed the whites of my eyes and it would make the little ones cry, and I'd laugh, and Mom would yell at me, and I'm stomp off down the hallway and try to make the floor cave in with every angry footstep.

People shouldn't try and piss me off because I'm good with a knife. Well, we all are in some shape or form. So normally we don't start shit with each-other. The others tend to try and start shit with the Rathbones but if we're honest, I think the whole rivalry is dumb and we should learn something from the other family. Theirs, to not provoke ours. Ours, to not be such stuck-up elitist idiots and learn to throw a decent punch.

There's still a blue stain underneath my skin that I tried to dodge. But you should see the other kid.

If I have to fight them I will. Not because I want to, but because I don't need two families wanting me dead instead of just one. Also there's so damn many of them I just pick the first new one that crops up who I don't recognise and hurl my knife at them - great target practice. My parents would probably pluck that knife out of their back and hurl it at me if they knew I wasn't at least trying to maim "the criminals", as they like to call them. Jokes on you Ma and Pa, your girl thinks the lawbreakers have a point. Strategy hailing from One - more kids, more chances at greatness, more heads to pour knowledge into instead of prejudice.

Sometimes I'll look out across the darkness of the lake, illuminated by the moon, and watch the lights flicker across the water. I imagine what those kids are doing. Learning. Plotting. Probably planning my demise. I hope they burn down our house. Maybe my siblings would shut up and stop pouting.

• • •

"I dare you to swim out to the Rathbone's and break into their house."

Two in the morning, draped curtains, bare feet and pyjamas. Someone points a long, bony finger at me and grins like they've already heard my refusal.

"Bet she won't do it."

"Ten dollars-"

"Okay."

"What?"

"I'll do it."

I think I caught death with my bare hands out there in the darkness. Then I swallowed him whole and kept swimming, the bitter cold clinging to my every nerve.

A gasp and the elements shift: water to air to earth, my lungs are on fire. The flashlight in my pocket finds shaking hands and I blink the light on and off, on and off, on and off.

The window light across the water blinks, blinks, blinks.

"Bring back proof" they whisper across the water.

I turn, cold to the core, and look upon my conquest.

• • • 

Damn Rathbones and their shit scattered everywhere. I've stubbed my toe three times now and hissed a different swear word each time. Also, they have no lights on. At all. Like I can't even risk using this flashlight for more than a few seconds at a time before I freak the fuck out at the sound of the wind against the windows. Jesus. Since when was I afraid of a storm?

Bring something back as proof, shit, okay. Let's get to the middle of the house. Flashlight in one hand, knife in the other, I take the night in my stride. 

There's a glass cabinet in the dining room. I think it's a dining room, I see a giant table and chairs. (Also, who leaves their plates and silverware out on the table? I kinda dig it.) I can't smash it, too much noise. Maybe if I take this knife-

Bingo.

Snatched hands, paper. Could be documents, a will, a cheque to their fortune, secret dirty family plans to throw them all in jail-

I stop in the doorway, frozen in an alternate universe where my siblings burn their house down after the Peacekeepers raid it and drag them all to their deaths. Blink. Step. The song of bad blood ringing in my ears and the thought of my own death at the hands of my siblings an axe in the back of my head.

I leave behind my truth that amongst the slumbering souls of the Rathbones was the first time I felt truly at home.