Elvira sat with a wine glass hanging between her fingers like gallows while she glared at the photo of her daughter. Elise was only seventeen years old, but possessed a remarkable acquisition of skills that Elvira herself had only dreamed of achieving . She could read, she could sing, she knew nothing of what liquor and wine tasted, she could dance, she could do anything. Meanwhile, Elvira had the fluency of a drunken dwarf, the singing voice of a grindstone, the tongue of an irishman, and the feet of a lopsided giant. 

What a sick twist of fate, Elvira thought while sipping her wine slowly in a vain attempt to keep her facade of decadence, unaware that the empty bottles beside her betrayed this social veneer. For hours a day, Elvira watched the courtyards with a gargolian glare, eyes slanted on the flowy orange sundress wrapped around Elise. She had dozens of suitors reaching for her hand in marriage,meanwhile, at her age, Elvira had to settle for the man who earned his money through…coal mining! 

Elvira was destined to have a greater life! Or so told her mother, who with sharp bony hands brushed her hair with snapping fury to attract a good man since Elvira’s breasts were deemed too small to attract a man, and her eyes deemed too dull to catch a passing glance.  Elise though, with eyes that shined like the sun and a body that resembled a vale, had suitors galore. Elvira yearned to pick her daughter apart and stick inside the insecurities she had grown with, but unfortunately, Elvira’s heart was too big to sink down to her mother’s level. 

While the other girls her age were out frolicking in the fields, cooking with cast iron, or baring a child by time, Elvira sat looking at the wall, as she had grown accustomed to, while her mother sat, fiery eyes burning her dress. Why couldn’t you have taken after me, she would ask. Elvira would reply, with less and less rebuff each response, that she didn’t know why she couldn’t. How could you have been so brash to try and run off with someone unworthy, mother would ask. Elvira would say, after being punished for the actual reason time and time again, that she was impatient and greedy. How are you going to find a husband to settle to, mother would ask.  Elvira would say, holding back molten frustration boiling in her stomach with clenched teeth, that she simply didn’t know.

She had thoughts of disowning her daughter, but Elvira knew she wouldn’t be able to get away with it. Besides, even if she did, bringing her into this world was strenuous enough to warrant herself voluntarily barren. She could harbor another child, this she knew. But the knowledge of whether she’d possess the will was beyond her.

 So she sat, sipping her wine. A slight lifting of her lips was enough to clear out some of the thoughts though. Even if Elvira was outdone by her own daughter, she could always afford to wash her sorrows away with wine, something her mother could not. Setting the glass upside down, she walked over to her liquor cabinet and inspected the lock. Elvira was a simple woman, but if there was one important lesson she took from her own mother, it was to not make the same mistakes she did. Elvira learned to settle, even if the man was below her standards. She learned to silence her voice, even if Elise needed the venom. Most of all though, she learned to always know where her wine had been. With a smirk, Elvira glanced to the very back of the liquor cabinet, where a half empty bottle sat with the beautiful display of a skull printed onto the label.

It was then that a single thought crossed Elvira’s mind as she looked back towards the photo of Elise…