Kimberly’s fists slammed onto the dinner table, rattling the untouched plates. Her six fingers curled into the wood, trembling with barely restrained fury. She spat, her voice laced with venom, throwing Sarah’s old reprimands back at her. “I’m the one holding this house together while you prance around town like a damn spectacle! I’m the one making sure the bills get paid, that food is on the table, that you don’t completely flunk out of school!”
"Just because you’ve got extra hands doesn’t mean you can strangle me with them.” She gave a sarcastic grin. “And newsflash, you never cared about school before, why the hell would I now?”
Kimberly’s jaw clenched. “Because you’re supposed to be my mother.” The words came out in a ragged whisper, then erupted into a full-blown shout. “But you’re not, are you? I am! I’m the one making sure you’re not getting yourself killed every time you step outside in those—those—” She gestured wildly at Sarah’s barely-there outfit. “Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to have to be the one lecturing you about modesty? About common sense? Do you even think about how this affects me?”
Sarah’s nostrils flared. “Oh, I’m so sorry your mother is hot now. What, jealous?” She crossed her arms under her six heavy breasts, tilting her head mockingly. “Or maybe you’re just mad I get more looks than you do?”
Kimberly’s breath caught, her extra eyes narrowing in outrage. “You disgust me,” she seethed, stepping closer, her many hands flexing as if she had to physically restrain herself from shaking Sarah by the shoulders. “This isn’t about looks, it’s about how you threw everything away—your dignity, your sense, your responsibility—while I was forced to pick up the pieces! I don’t get to be reckless! I don’t get to run around partying and acting like nothing matters! I have to be the adult now, because you refuse to be! I provide for you now! I work now! Ipay the bills now! I drive, and I clean, and I cook-”
“Oh, is that right? Because I don’t remember you cooking anything worth eating before this mess. In fact, I seem to recall a certain brat who used to leave the kitchen in flames—”
“And I don’t remember you being such a delinquent,” Kimberly cut in sharply. “I don’t remember you throwing tantrums over curfews. I don’t remember you getting sent home for flashing your classmates!”
Sarah's tail flicked, knocking a chair over. “You want to talk about school? I remember someone who used to sneak out to get railed in the back of some loser’s car—”
“I REMEMBER A MOTHER WHO NEVER LISTENED!” Kimberly roared, slamming one of her six fists on the counter, the sound reverberating through the house. “Who never fucking cared unless it was about controlling me!”
Sarah’s nostrils flared. “And I remember a DAUGHTER who never respected the woman who BUSTED HER ASS trying to keep this goddamn house together!”
Kimberly stepped forward, fists trembling. “Do you have ANY IDEA what it’s like, watching you act like a goddamn child while I have to clean up your mess? Watching you turn into everything you used to HATE about me?”
Sarah’s smirk vanished. “And do YOU have any idea what it’s like to have your own DAUGHTER look at you like you’re some kind of fucking disgrace?”
Neither of them knew who threw the first punch at the wall, who sent the lamp crashing to the floor. But they both knew the instant regret, the sharp inhale, the way the silence swallowed them whole.
A dish shattered against the floor. Neither of them knew who threw it.
"Get out," Kimberly whispered, her voice trembling. "Go to your room. Now."
Sarah sneered but the shine of unshed tears in her eyes betrayed her. She turned sharply, her tail flicking over a chair, knocking it to the ground as she stormed away. Running up the stairs, she slammed the door to her room, muffled sobs breaking through the thin walls.