Cursed

He was off again managing Someone else’s chaos when she stood looking up at impossible elegance, rounded into ruby perfection, dangling from the twisted branches. There’s a pull from the forbidden that’s hard to deny. She knew the moment he told her “No,” she wouldn’t listen. Her entire existence was mysterious, vague, and purposeless-- fashioned from leftovers. What’s she here for anyway? To clean up after him? Fix their dinner? Wash the dishes? He is off conquering beasts, like some god. She remains an accessory. Nothing stirs up rebellion quite like the feeling of being powerless. That’s when another guy came sliding over to her, alluring in his phallic majesty, dark eyes acknowledging her own, whispering she could be anything. Seduced by curiosity, she reached up. This is when all hell broke loose. Pandora’s box spilled with the juice dribbling down her chin. Blood, agony, and death escorted by knowledge, potency, and power. Her defiance would punish her daughters. It would also empower them.