The Girl in the Wych Elm (XIV) (II)

 

XIV. Dreams of Immortality Through a Dark Lens (II)

The man returned the unfinished sculpture to its place among the other pending projects once he heard the suite door opening. Lucian hyperventilated from excitement when he beheld the visitor, his youngest sibling. Three months had gone by since their last visit. Nadia stood behind Lucian in case he fainted. “Lucius!” Lucia ran into her other brother’s arms and buried her face in his shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re here! We weren’t expecting you for another week.” Younger Lucius was the much-needed distraction for Lucia after the chaos downstairs. Her tensed body relaxed. Her troubled mind settled. When she and Lucius were together, those impenetrable walls around her fell. He was her safe space. The sun that scattered her cloudy days. The vibrant colors in her grayscale world. The joy to her sadness. Lucius was her peace. 

The sibling hug was completed when Lucian joined. Lucius, holding back tears, missed his siblings terribly during his three months away. He kissed both their foreheads and hugged them tighter. Although Lucius was the youngest sibling, he towered over Lucia and Lucian both. But Lucius’ immense love for his older siblings couldn’t keep him tethered to Wych Elm. He along with his partner, Mikhail, lived a transient lifestyle, dropping in every quarter to check in before running off to his next destination. Lucius couldn’t stand being away from them so often, but it was a necessary evil. Disgusted by his homosexuality, the criticism of his parents and family became too much for Younger Lucius to handle any longer. 

“So, anything new to report since last check in?” It came as no surprise when Lucius was informed nothing new had transpired. He remarked to Lucia how he could stop visiting for two years, return, and still nothing new. 

“Wych Elm, stagnant as ever. Our family, insufferable as ever.” Lucia commented, twirling her wrist.

“Well…they chose our cousin Ciano for The Inheritance.” Lucian added. 

Lucius craned his neck with eyes narrowing. “Who is Ciano again?” Lucia coughed out a chuckle. 

“Aunt Ciana’s son.” Lucius’ puzzled expression disappeared. He looked at Lucia wearing the same expression she did. The Inheritance meant nothing to him as it didn’t to Lucia. 

“So,” Lucia tickled Lucius’ sides from behind, “how long are you in town this time?” He slapped her arm playfully, reminding his sister how much he hated being tickled. 

“You tickle me again; I’m leaving in seventy-two hours.” He replied jokingly. 

“How’s Mikhail doing these days? You still being with him is a surprise, honestly. Once the sixth month mark hits, you’re on to the next guy.” A bright smile appeared on Lucia’s face. Her brothers’ happiness made her happy. “Mikhail must be really special to you, or he’s just amazing in bed.” Lucia sucked in her bottom lip, amused. 

Lucius cut his eyes. “Yeah… I-I don’t know… He might have cast a love spell on me for all I know.” Lucius said, laughing. “A handsome man from an affluent family is an easy fumble if you’re not careful…or smart.” Lucius answered Lucia’s question. It was both. Mikhail was the best partner he had in a long time, and he was fantastic in bed. “And before you ask me. No. We’re not going steady and we sure as Hell aren’t settling down.” He pointed at a cheesing Lucia. 

Lucian tapped his brother. “Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Lucius was mildly offended by the question. 

“I would never come home empty-handed.” Lucius hugged his brother and stroked his head tenderly. “I put your souvenirs over there on your desk.” That’s all Lucian needed to hear. He bolted for the table. “Ooo! These are nice!” Lucian exclaimed as he rummaged through the box like a child on Christmas. Lucia and Lucius observed their older brother like proud parents. 

“Will you make it to dinner tonight with us?” His eyes moved from Lucian to Lucia. She was unsure. The masquerade was around the corner. There was still much that needed done. Lucia said she would try but guaranteed no promise. The light in Lucius’ eyes dimmed. He appreciated his sister’s honesty but was nonetheless disappointed. 

Nadia poked Lucian’s shoulder. “The secret.” She whispered. 

“Dang! I keep forgetting!” Innocent laughter escaped him. “Hey, Lucia.” He waved her over to the table. “I have something for you. I made it.” Lucian beamed with pride. “Tell me what you think too.” He stepped back and gave his sister space. Lucian, giddy, bounced up and down on his toes watching her with anticipation. 

Lucia was careful removing the drape which she handed off to Nadia. The woman folded the fabric into a neat square and tucked it under her arm. Lucia was without words when her eyes saw the plaster bust sculpted in her likeness. “You really made this, Lucian?” Lucia picked up the bust. She admired every detail with her eyes and ran her fingers over every crevice and ridge. The bust was more a work of art than a simple gift. Lucian’s craftmanship was impeccable. “You did a spectacular job, Lucian. I love it!” She turned and thanked Lucian to his face.

“See. I said Lucia would love it, didn’t I?” Nadia whispered again. She patted Lucian’s shoulders. 

“And I know exactly where I’m putting this in my room.” The positive review made Lucian squeal with joy. He almost knocked Lucia over rushing in for another hug. 

Lucian received an outstanding review from Lucius as well. “Maybe one day, we’ll see one or some of your sculptures on view in a high-end art gallery.” He hugged his brother around his neck from behind. “We’re proud of you, Lucian.” 

The smile on Lucia’s face was wider than the river that ran along Wych Elm. She held the bust closer to her. Lucia adored her brother. He was a pure sweetheart who never deserved the cruel ostracization inflicted upon him by their relatives and parents. The Lightwoods had “power over immortality” but not over genetics and couldn’t have predicted how Lucian would turn out. “Thank you, Lucia! It-”

“Hey, Lucian.” Lucius touched his shoulder. “I need to steal Lucia away for a little bit. There’s something we need to discuss in private before time gets away.” Lucian pouted when he heard those words. He wasn’t ready for his siblings to leave so soon. Lucius apologized for the inconvenience and swore he would make it up to Lucian somehow. 

“All right… If you say it’s really important.” Lucian sighed heavily and dropped his head. The pair were dismayed seeing their older brother upset. 

 

Lucia vomited from the guilt of her lie when she stepped into her suite. She barely made it to the trash can. The woman was tormented by her deception as she wept on all fours. The plaster bust was hideous. Its androgynous appearance invoked strong, negative emotions of her self-worth. Her room was the last location she wanted that awful effigy stored. Lucia contemplated accidentally breaking the plaster bust. She couldn’t, however. Lucian had worked diligently on that gift for her. He had been so excited over giving it to her. Breaking Lucian’s creation was too cruel. The other alternative involved hiding the bust in the recesses of her closet. That option felt morally wrong too though. Lucia was reminded of what her parents did to Lucian during her early years. She was twelve when she learned about her older brother’s existence. Their parents kept Lucian tucked away out of sight. Lucia confronted them after hearing the rumors among the gossiping kitchen staff. She threw a tantrum from Hell until her parents allowed her and Lucius to meet their brother. 

Lucius watched his sister as she worked herself on the verge of sickness. She was being too dramatic; it bothered him. “This wouldn’t be happening right now if you didn’t baby Lucian so much.” He crossed his arms, still looking down at her. Not once did he offer Lucia a hand off the floor. “Our brother’s not some priceless, Chinaware. Lucian appreciates honesty over his feelings being spared.” Lucius left his sister where she was on the floor and walked towards the first open chair. Their brother had verbalized countless times not being treated like a child over his disability. Lucia continued infantilizing him despite those protestations, which dug under Lucius’ skin. 

Silence was Lucia’s response to her younger brother’s words. She wiped her tears, collected herself, and tucked the plaster bust away in a corner obscured from her line of sight. Lucia plopped down on the sofa across from Lucius. She crossed her legs and rested her hands on her knee. “What do we have to discuss, Lucius?” Lucia asked visually irritated. The tender-hearted mood between the siblings had worn off. The stern, father-like expression of Lucius contrasted Lucia’s nonchalant gaze. 

There was a pause before Lucius answered. “I don’t think you should attend the masquerade this year.” Lucius had implored his sister about the topic before, only to be rebuffed. He hoped after some time apart they could revisit the conversation again. The revision immediately put Lucia in a foul mood. 

“Lucius…” She touched her forehead. “While it isn’t mandatory for you to be there, I have to be.” The discussion had just started, and Lucia already felt the onset of a migraine. Technically, attendance wasn’t required for the family heads. It was merely expected. 

Lucius’ stern eyebrows furrowed. As predicted, his sister tried dancing around the sensitive topic. “What more can they say about you that they already haven’t? What more could they do to you?” Lucius moved to the edge of his seat. “You don’t matter to them, Lucia. And never will. You’ll never-”

“Just get on with your point, Lucius. Say what you want to say to me.” Hostile undertones began bleeding into the civil conversation. Lucius wasn’t moved by Lucia’s sour attitude. He continued. 

“I know you’re planning something. Our Lady of Light is still undergoing reconstruction from the storm. I know Alexander’s been on your neck about the masquerade seeing as our family’s contribution is crucial to its success and keeping our powerful friends happy.” Lucius accused his sister of deliberately sabotaging the church’s reconstruction. “Whatever you have planned… It won’t end well. Alexander isn’t one to be made a fool of.” His eyes twitched at the sight of Lucia’s mischievous grin. Lucius’ jaw became taut with frustration. The warm light in his brown eyes iced over like a frozen lake during a harsh window. “Lucia… This is serious! Alexander’s the only one allowed to treat things as a game!” His nails dug into the chair’s fabric. 

The rage plastered on Lucius’ face forced Lucia to drop her grin. For the briefest of brief moments, Lucia saw a visage of Elder Lucius in the younger one. The bass in Lucius’ voice when he expressed his displeasure. The unforgiving stare in his eyes. The intense energy that emanated from him like a coal burning stove. All those characteristics reminded her of the man she despised over everyone else in Wych Elm. Lucia loved her younger brother, but as time passed, he started favoring their deceased father more with every three-month absence and following visit. She had moments where it was difficult looking Younger Lucius in his face without experiencing traumatic flashbacks of their father’s abuse. Lucia grabbed at her robe. She felt constricted. The pounding heart inside her threatened to burst through her chest. Elder Lucius never died. Her father lived on the image of her brother. 

Lucia averted her eyes. The sight of her brother made her nervous system berserk. She cursed silently as she trembled. “Damn it…” The trauma still triggered negative physiological responses. 

Lucius rubbed his hands up his face. Lucia’s distress made him feel like an awful brother. He was crushed watching Lucia shrink back in fear because of him. “I’m… I’m so, so sorry about that, Lucia…” Lucius got on his knees before her. He held Lucia’s hands in his own trying to soothe her. “I shouldn’t have lashed out like that. I forget…how much I favor him sometimes.” Lucia forgave Lucius. They never liked staying mad at one another. Unfortunately, Lucia struggled making eye contact with him again at the moment. Lucius understood. He wasn’t offended and handled the situation respectfully “Just-just listen to me. Okay?” The younger Lucius chuckled innocently at his prediction over how Lucia would respond. “Mikhail and I ran into a fortune teller on the streets of Antalya in Turkey one day.” For a cheap price, the woman offered the couple a fortune. Lucius and Mikhail obliged for the Hell of it. “‘A lily that blooms in the shadow of a tower withers quicker than the rose.’” The haunting fortune sent chills up Lucius’ spine the first time he heard it. His physiological reaction was the same when he repeated the words to his sister. 

Lucia couldn’t restrain her boisterous laughter. The woman chided her brother for offending her ears with superstitious garbage. “My God, Lucius… You remind me of those people who believe mirrors can steal your soul.” She was in tears over laughing so hard. 

But nothing was humorous about the menacing fortune to Lucius. He believed it was an omen. “You’re in no place to ridicule anyone.” Lucius motioned to several mirrors around the room Lucia kept covered or had turned over. The measures his sister went over avoiding her reflection troubled Lucius. He believed she was spiraling. The gradual change in Lucia’s mental and emotional wellbeing started in the years following their father’s death. Lucia was battling demons she refused to admit she had. Lucius was fed up watching helplessly as his sister suffered. Lucia, however, counter argued that her reasoning behind the compulsions wasn’t the same. 

“You’re telling me you allowed a silly fortune from a con artist deter you from going to the masquerade?” Lucia shook her head from disbelief. 

The flippant question pissed Lucius off further. “I was born into a family of raging homophobes. Why would I subject myself to further discrimination to keep people I can’t stand happy?” The constant disrespect and belittlement his sister received from Alexander and the others was also a deterrent. “I give up.” Lucius pushed to his feet. “Nothing will change your mind. You’re too damn stubborn, Lucia. And after everything we went through as children, it pains me to say this, but you’re like our asshole father in some ways.” Lucia’s nose wrinkled at the remark. She would have struck Lucius in the head with something hard were he not her brother. “I think…you should talk to a therapist about your past trauma and some of the feelings you’re dealing with. About your need to be around wicked people who wouldn’t hesitate to throw you to the wolves.” Lucius placed the business card secure in Lucia’s hand. She studied the smokey gray card embellished with cream-colored letters. He studied his sister’s vague expression, wondering what was on her mind, or perhaps trying to predict what was going through her mind. 

“I don’t want this.” She replied in an offended tone. The suggestion was an insult. Lucia flicked the business card at her disappointed brother. 

Regardless of Lucia’s mind being made up, Lucius continued arguing her down. “Nothing will change, Lucia! This hierarchy-this system isn’t something you can beat all on your own. It was created this way. It’s been in place for two-hundred years and won’t crumble as easy as you think it will!” His arms slapped against his legs, frustrated. 

“Don’t look at it so pessimistic, Lucius. Nothing, and I mean nothing lasts forever. The High Families and their dominion, like an empire, have reached the zenith of power and expanse.” The raptured glow in Lucia’s eyes frightened Lucius because it was the exact look his father had during his delusional ramblings. Lucia believed her vision would come true with unquestioned certainty. “It’s going to fall, Lucius. All of it is going to fall.” Lucia wished she could tell Lucius her plan, but she already predicted his reaction like he had previously predicted hers. “When you have two angry crash dummies like Solomon and Alexander running amok and sowing chaos, the clock counts down faster. There’s a saying, ‘Death is a patient wolf.’” She waved her finger. 

Lucius only flung back his head and chortled. “Towers are a lot sturdier than you think.” He wandered off still tickled. “And you’re no god or wolf. Just a pompous human woman with another forty something years left on this planet, God willing though.” The sneer Lucia shot her brother was vicious. She was starting to dislike her brother and his quips. “As I stand here thinking about it. They were wrong.” Lucia raised her eyebrows. “They said-swore you were exactly like Lucy. But you aren’t.” He told Lucia she was nothing like their aunt. Now that Lucius was older, he saw their comparison differently with an adult’s outlook. For the first time in twenty-something minutes, the siblings’ eyes met. “Lucy knew she couldn’t fight an un-winnable battle against this family, against the High Families and bowed out. You’re no more delusional than those idiots downstairs who believe they’ve achieved immortality if you think you have a chance in Hell.” The spirit of Elder Lucius appeared again. That time, Lucia showed no fear. The slight she felt over Lucius’ statement disturbed her spirit. 

When Lucia couldn’t formulate a quick enough response, she changed the topic to something else. “Since you’re home. I think now’s a good time to mention I’m thinking about cutting my hair.” She released her hair from the ponytail holder. Lucia hated her long hair and the maintenance that came with it. Her father (under threat of violence) forced Lucia into keeping her hair long. 

Every aspect of her life and her family’s life was dictated by Elder Lucius because he believed appearances were of absolute importance. You’re a pristine woman of the Lightwood family. Poor Lucia wasn’t allowed to cut or wear her hair how she chose without harsh criticism and physical discipline. Elder Lucius possessed a morbid obsession with Lucia’s hair for as long as she remembered. It was unnerving too. She also detested the sexist concept of long hair being associated with womanhood. 

And there she goes… Lucius thought as he tuned out his sister’s words. He had Lucia backed into a corner. The only way out of that corner was changing the direction of the conversation. “I don’t care what you do with your hair.” Lucius headed for the door. “I may have his name and look like him, but I’m not Elder Lucius. Your hair is yours to do with.” His told her uncaringly. The exhausting conversation came to an unresolved end. “Maybe you, Lucian, and I can spend some time together before I leave Wych Elm again.” Lucius stayed two weeks the last go round. He contemplated limiting his recent to stay to only a week. A bitter taste filled Lucia’s mouth. She asked why he phrased it that way. Lucius shook his head. There was a sad smile on his face. Lucia loved her brothers, but her personal goals and desires were always a priority. During the time he lived at home, Lucius seldom saw his sister even though their suites were just three rooms apart. She came and went like a gust of wind, hellbent on accomplishing whatever task consumed her at the moment. 

Admiration for Lucia vanished, like a fading dream, and it had Lucius distressed. He idolized his sister but, in the end, she was another disappointment of a hero once the blinders were removed. Lucius pressed his forehead against the cold wall of his room. “I-I tried my best. You couldn’t make her listen, Lucius. She’s too-too far gone at this point.” He choked on his tears. Thick snot oozed from his nose into his mouth. Before long, the weeping man was curled into a ball on his floor. Then his cellphone rang. Lucius answered sobbing and sniffling, an emotional mess. “She wouldn’t… She wouldn’t…” So overcome with emotions, the words never made it out of Lucius’ mouth entirely. The anguished man believed he failed Lucia as her brother. He cursed his family name, Wych Elm, and the High Families for breaking his sister’s spirit. For making her feel inadequate. For stealing the last glimmer of light inside her. There was nothing more Lucius could do as he watched his sister consumed by the various darknesses that attacked her from every side. Not even Lucia could save herself from herself. 

 

Lucia’s metamorphosis was solidified with the final cut. The last of her unwanted long hair trickled down her back onto the floor into the ring around her feet. She laid the scissors on the counter. “Well… I did a pretty decent job.” She was unrecognizable for a few moments while she basked in her new appearance. The decision satisfied Lucia in the end. It was needed and years overdue. Lucia felt free. The need to dance around her bathroom, sing loud and obnoxiously, and scream for joy overtook her. Eyes brim with delight leaned closer into the mirror. Lucia’s nose almost touched the nose of her reflection. The storm cloud that lingered over, that she was born with had cleared. She combed through her new bob with her fingers, smirking. Lucia thought about Elder Lucius burning in Hell, pissed he couldn’t do anything about her changing her image. “Daddy…” Lucia began reflecting on the last skirmish she had with Elder Lucius over her hair. How Elder Lucius brought his thick, wooden ruler down upon her back with so much force, she heard and felt it splinter on contact. 

Lucia’s already bruised skin stung terribly after the latest strike. Her father had struck her twice before. Although masked by her clothing, the areas that connected with the ruler were raised, red, and throbbing. “I won’t ask you again, Lucia.” The terrified girl shook at the feet of her frightening father. The boom of authority in his voice felt like another ruler strike against her delicate skin. “Look. At. Me.” Unable to bear the agony of another heavy-handed strike, Lucia met the ire of her father’s eyes that burned with a hellish aura. She had disobeyed her father again, wearing her hair in a style not permitted by him, and was punished.  Lucia searched frantically around the room for her mother, hoping she would save her from Elder Lucius’ wrath. Lucilla watched quietly from the sidelines like the obedient slave Lucia viewed her as. She wore her usual stoic expression. Anger and apathy were the two emotions Lucia associated with her parents.

You weak-minded woman, was the description that came to young Lucia’s mind when she realized her mother wouldn’t save her. Once Elder Lucius’ punishment ended, Lucilla left Lucia on the floor, crying and in excruciating pain. She never offered her daughter comfort or aid for her injuries. 

There were no other alternatives for Lucia, unfortunately. She took the punishment as she always did. “And why can’t I wear my hair how I choose? It’s mine! Not yours! What I do with my hair shouldn’t bother you so much.” The terrified girl somehow found the courageous strength to criticize her father’s deranged control over her autonomy as a blossoming young woman.

Speaking up, however, only riled up her father’s anger more. Elder Lucius discarded the ruler and retrieved an iron fire poker. Horror left her paralyzed where she kneeled. She watched with apprehensive eyes as her father dragged the heavy poker across the carpet while approaching her. The depravity of her father seemed limitless. “Are you-are you really going to hit me with that? Pl-please…!” She feebly whimpered before him. One blow from that fire poker would have been agonizing. Two more blows would have kept her in bed for days recovering. Lucia’s pleading eyes searched for her mother again, hoping she would talk sense into her husband. Lucilla was long gone. Neither Lucia nor Elder Lucius had noticed her departure.

Elder Lucius astoundingly restrained himself from striking his daughter. “Don’t ever raise your voice to me again, Lucia Evangeline Lightwood.” That also included questioning his rules and logic. He told his rebellious daughter countless times why things were the way they were. Men only desired women they deemed attractive. The appeal of Lucia’s hair played a role in her attracting a reputable husband. “You think of my extremes,” he emphasized with air quotations, “as mistreatment. Forms of control and oppression, but I’m your father, Lucia. The patriarch. The Shepherd and the Gardener. What I’m doing is cultivating you into a beautiful flower I know you can be. When you bloom, my sweet daughter, you will become the grandest flower in all of Wych Elm.” Elder Lucius raised his arms. He praised Heaven for choosing him above all others to lead their family. The deranged smile stretched across Elder Lucius’ face made Lucia’s blood run cold. She wondered if her father’s delusions of grandeur had over time turned him into a monster or were simply the fuel that kept the monster growing. “Do you know what our family’s emblem, the Lily-of-the-valley, symbolizes, Lucia? Innocence and purity, both of the soul and heart.” Pure souls and hearts couldn’t function without a pure body fostering them, however.

The vision her father had, Lucia couldn’t see it. She didn’t share in it. What she saw standing before her was a loon ranting nonsensically. She was a girl, not a flower confined inside a spot. Humans were born with innate autonomy while flowers and plants possessed none. Their existence and preservation were dictated by humans. Elder Lucius’ analogy was an insult masked as compliment. Nothing more than an attempt at manipulating Lucia into obedience. She wanted to bloom, but on her own without perverse intervention from her father. Elder Lucius wouldn’t let her. Elder Lucius wouldn’t allow Lucia to bloom on her own. Through his mad eyes, his daughter was a vulnerable seedling that would die quickly without his influence. Lucia needed her father. “No. No I don’t need you.” She stammered out. 

Elder Lucius’ grip on the iron poker tightened until his knuckles turned white. “Come again?” His eye twitched at the disrespectful statement. It seemed Lucia still had more lessons to learn. The man raised the tool of punishment behind his shoulder and head. “What did you say to me?” He sounded like a snarling animal eager to attack. 

There was silence following Elder Lucis’ question before Lucia raised her head proudly. He pivoted backwards some seeing the arrogant glimmer in his daughter’s eyes. Lucia repeated the statement again but with stronger confidence behind her words. The baffled expression of her father made her burst into hysterical laughter. She proceeded to mock Elder Lucius without fear. “This is embarrassing, so embarrassing.” Lucia dried her eyes. She stood and confronted her father. Elder Lucius stood tall, raised his chin, and stuck out his chest. The last-ditch intimidation tactic didn’t work. Lucia was fearless. “I don’t need you. That’s what I said.” A deviant smirk appeared on her face. “You’re dead, Elder Lucius. You’re a ghost! And an annoying one to say the least.” Lucia popped her tongue. Her father was taken aback by her energy. “You can’t do anything to me now.” She told him, her eyes narrowing. “Look at how well I’ve bloomed without your black cloud of evil hanging over me. Goodbye, daddy… Time to go back to Hell where you belong.” The action that followed was something Lucia never did while her father was alive because he never deserved her affection. She kissed his cheek. It wasn’t done out of respect for Elder Lucius, but to exorcise the last shred of control he had over Lucia. 

The iron poker clattered against the floor. Elder Lucius scoffed. Lucia had finally beaten him. His scorned expression was the last image Lucia saw of her father. “That seat was never meant to be yours…” He said, vanishing away. 

 

Lucilla was rendered speechless when she noticed the hair around Lucia’s feet. She kneeled, collected a handful, and stood once again. The poisonous energy that trailed Lucilla everywhere she went roused Lucia from her daydream. “What are you doing in my suite?” Lucia’s lips curled into a wrinkled frown. Her mother didn’t answer. Lucilla merely cut her eyes. “Not a fan of my new hairstyle I take it. Grass discovered in field.” She remarked sarcastically, peering at her mother from the corner of her eyes. Lucilla threw the clump of hair in her daughter’s face. A couple strands made it inside Lucia’s mouth. She remained calm even though her mother deserved a smack. 

“I’m still your mother, matriarch. Don’t forget that.” She scowled at the younger version of herself. 

Lucia’s frown deepened further. “Your aggravating sister said something along the lines of that earlier.” 

Lucilla folded her hands across her abdomen in a dignified manner. Her scowl disappeared and she regained her cold, stoic expression. Lucia had always wondered if her mother was born with a stick up her ass or if the environment of the Lightwood family had crushed her spirits. She couldn’t recall a moment in all her three decades of life when her mother ever smiled or laughed. Lucia speculated happiness and positivity would have killed her mother like a fatal allergic reaction. “In regard to Ciana, I checked in on her before I came here. She has a concussion, but she will be all right.” Lucilla informed Lucia in her deadpan tone. 

“Well… Good for Ciana, but I didn’t ask.” Although Lucia didn’t care, she found the update from her mother of all people interesting. Lucilla’s relationship with Ciana was tumultuous and strained. Perhaps, there was some sororal love left inside her mother’s black heart. “I guess while we’re on the topic of updates. Lucius is home again.” Lucilla immediately pursed her lips. The lackluster response was expected. 

She gave Lucia a simple response. “I overheard from the house staff.” The staff had also informed her of the incident between Ciana and Ciano. Lucilla could not care less about Younger Lucius or the fact he was home. Her youngest child, like her firstborn son, was impure. 

“This hateful mother-daughter interaction has run-” She was met with two stinging slaps. Lucia, grinning, licked the blood from the corner of her mouth. Lucilla caught sight of it. She had peeped Lucia’s healing abdominal incision. 

The stoic expression became disdainful anger. She didn’t shake. She vibrated from the rage that rushed through her body. “You shameful witch.” Lucilla restrained her right hand with the left one, stopping her from slapping Lucia a third time. “Why would you go and do something so abominable?” Her daughter was not only selfish. She was stupid too. 

Lucia donned her bathrobe. “You thought I was just blowing hot air around, huh? My womb wasn’t yours to control. Yours, Elder Lucius, or anyone else.” She replied, belittling her mother for her naivete. Lucia had no desire for children and made it clear to her parents she wouldn’t. The hysterectomy was an added safety measure in case they tried forcing her through other means. “Poor, poor, poor Lucilla Lightwood.” Lucia cackled like the witch her mother saw her as. “This branch of the Lightwood bloodline ends with your disappointment of a daughter and sons.” She snorted knowing her mother was on the verge of spontaneous combustion. 

“May our ancestors have mercy on your wicked soul for this ungodly deed.” Lucilla’s fists balled at her sides. She bit the inside of her cheek, resisting the urge to swear at her daughter. The older matriarch was genuinely distraught over Lucia’s crime against their bloodline. Lucilla mourned the loss of her descendants as if they were alive moments prior and died suddenly before her. “Lucinda, her son, and their few relatives, didn’t escape the turmoil of Hispaniola for a better life and future just to have their witless descendant trample over their dreams.” She sarcastically told Lucia to burn their estate to the ground while she was at it. Lucia had entertained the idea several times in the past and warned her mother not to push her to that extreme. 

“This family deserves nothing, especially from me.” She snapped at Lucia, seething with homicidal rage. “You shunned the first son over a genetic disability and locked him away. You disowned the other son because of his sexuality. And you turned a blind eye while I suffered at the hands of your husband in the name of Lightwood. Believing you’re entitled to my womb is more asinine than it is audacious.” Lucia couldn’t name one redeeming characteristic about their family worth preserving their bloodline for. The Lightwoods were an infestation. While Lucia drew breath and was in control of their family, she would engineer the Lightwoods’ downfall by any means necessary. 

During Lucia’s spat with her mother, the answer came suddenly to her. It was Lucilla. It was her mother whom she loathed more. Ciana was insufferable in her own right, but Lucilla was her mother. A mother who never loved her. A mother who never spoke value into her or built her up. A mother who never protected her. A mother who abused her alongside her husband. It was her mother, the woman who gave her life, with whom she held the greatest hatred in her heart towards. Lucilla wasn’t a mother; she was a mirror. She was the example Lucia was expected to follow and become as a woman. Conservative. Submissive. Plain. Her husband’s shadow. A woman bound by tradition and expectations. A woman whose value was cemented in the husband she married and the children she bore. No identity beyond those two traits. 

A beautiful woman whose appearance sadly held little candle to her sisters, Lucilla’s life from birth to late adulthood revolved around one singular emotion: resentment. She was the daughter often overlooked by her parents. In turn, her relationships with her sisters were strained. Elder Lucius only settled for her because Ciana’s unappealing personality turned him off. She listened against her will as her devastated husband spent the rest of his life mourning what he could have had with her sister Lucy. Her three children were disappointments. The woman always felt like she had been cursed by God. Lucilla didn’t understand why when she had lived a pious, obedient life as dictated by the Lightwood family’s laws. 

Lucia, growing up, only justified her mother’s inexcusable behaviors out of love. Her mother was the product of her environment. All of the Lightwood women were. She never had a chance. She was corrupted from birth. Those justifications immediately stopped when they told her about Lucy. Those dark lens turned clear. What was her mother’s reason? A grim realization was reached. Lucilla was where she wanted to be. She enjoyed punishing Lucia and watching her daughter suffer because of the pain she carried inside her. Lucia was the target of her mother’s burning resentment all because of Lucy. 

“Lucia, it should have been you.” Lucilla brushed everything off the bathroom counter. “Why wasn’t it you instead?” The bawling woman dropped to the floor. The abrupt change in mood confused Lucia. 

“What are you even talking about, Lucilla?” The ambiguous statement and question only aggravated the younger matriarch further. She smashed a glass bottle at her mother’s feet demanding she answer or get out of her suite. Lucilla and Elder Lucius found no logical reason telling their children about Luceras, the stillborn son they had before Lucia. Her second son’s death was the final nail in the coffin for Lucilla. She told her daughter she wished Luceras had lived and Lucia died. Lucilla believed life would have turned out differently because Lucia ended up more trouble than she was worth. Luceras would have been the only child following Lucian. “Huh…?” Lucia tossed and caught a perfume bottle. The information unlocked an even greater hatred for Lucilla. She wasn’t pissed Lucilla withheld her other brother’s death from her. No. That didn’t bother her. Lucia was pissed she was still viewed less than a dead infant that never took his first breath. She ran her tongue over her teeth. “Care to hear my thoughts?” Lucia never gave her mother a chance to answer. “God took that son because awful people like you and your husband didn’t deserve him. It was a justified punishment.” The remark cut both ways. Lucia knew that. As long as it hurt Lucilla more, she didn’t care. 

The harsh retort from Lucia shouldn’t have blind-sided Lucilla like it did. She was aware of how much her daughter hated her. But the agonizing loss of her stillborn son hadn’t waned with the years. Those hateful words destroyed Lucilla’s spirit. She even wished Lucia had just stabbed her in the heart directly than spoke those words. “Say whatever you like about Elder Lucius. Yes, he was no saint, but neither are you.” Lucilla stood. She was careful walking around the glass shards still on the floor as she dusted her dress. “You can try all you want, but you’re no better than he was.” Lucilla moved the strands of hair out of Lucia’s face for a better look of her daughter. “Younger Lucius may have inherited his looks, but you are your father’s daughter in every other aspect. And it gives me pleasure at night knowing that you can never escape or run away from that truth.” Lucilla kissed her cheek. The unwanted affection was the first she ever received from her mother in thirty-two years. 

“Get. Out.” Lucia slapped her hand away and scrubbed away the kiss. 

Lucilla grinned sinisterly. “As you wish, matriarch.” 

 

Lucilla’s aggravating words continued echoing inside the halls of Lucia’s mind long after their speaker’s departure. No matter what she focused on, Lucia couldn’t shake her mother’s words. Fantasizing about Bennett again didn’t work either. “Why couldn’t you have called me a bitch and left it at that?” She laid her head on the counter for a moment. It was still cool to the touch. “There must be some truth I can’t see…or refuse to if Lucius said the same thing too. And he never lies to me.” Lucia exhaled a frustrated breath. She raised her head and looked at her reflection. The woman was the spitting image of both her mother and Ciana. “You aren’t him, Lucia. You aren’t your father. You. Are not. Elder Lucius.” Her fist banged against the counter. Lucia’s words lacked her confidence. “I should get ready to see Maeve.” The women had important matters to discuss. 

After calling for a maid to clean the glass, Lucia ventured into the closet. Socorro had three outfits picked out for her which hung on a lone rack beside the full-body mirror. Lucia looked them over; she discarded the tweed pencil skirt and blazer set because it was rather warm outside. That left her with the black wide legged slacks, sleeveless blouse, and shoulder blazer outfit, and the long-sleeved, thigh-length collar dress. “Pants or dress? Dress or pants?” She weighed the outfits in the mirror. “The dress is cuter, but it’s warm outside. Although… it is cotton.” Lucia decided on wearing a dress but not the one Socorro picked for her. She grabbed a knee length, high neck sleeveless dress from one of the many clothing racks. The dress paired well with her short hairstyle. Before Lucia threw on her dress, her healing incision required a new sterile bandage. “Hmm… This looks concerning…” She inspected her incision closely. It was a tad swollen, draining pus and looked angry. 

“Excuse me, Miss Lightwood?” The butler Lisandro knocked. “The driver will be waiting when you’re ready to leave out.” Lucia went ahead and placed the new bandage over her incision. She would meet Donovan later and have him look when her affairs with Maeve were done. 

Author's Note: Lucia's chapter is definitely the best one thus far, but it's all killing me. Doing my best to pump out part III before end of March.