Hen House

Hen House

         Her body was bridled. She stood aghast. A statue with that medusa gaze in the mirror.
         “How could this be?” She interrogated the doppelganger in the window. “This isn’t my fault! I was on top! “Mare,” they’d say, “How’s it for you?” ’fore me they knew nothing of riding.” She focused her attention to the nipple of her left breast. “Them. They! They did this to me! Those miscreants.”
         She blinked her eyes twice, hoping when she looked again it would be gone. It was still there. That spectacle developing after so many years of galloping on the range. What was she to do now? What if they saw this abomination? Of course, if they have done this to her, they’d be anticipating her next move. But how? Why? After everything she’d done for them, to do something like this was unimaginable. Yet deep in her heart she knew they couldn’t be trusted. Should she, Mary of the Moon, try to conceal her shameful new ordeal from those who claimed to love her so dearly? Whenever she’d needed help in the past Sam and Sandy had always been there. Five years now she’d been in residence with the young couple, teaching them every little trick of the trade, to be the best of the best. And for what? She’d never asked for anything more than a place to live. After all, the only thing Mary really needed was someone to carry on the legacy when her time came to pass. “Legends never die, even after they slip unto the un-fathomable oblivion,” her father always used to say. And now, how soon would that be? Mary pictured the couple in her mind. Once they had seemed so full of affection, but now the charade had been cracked. The couple were nothing more than a ruse. A diabolical plot to learn everything, like a son and daughter, only to turn and smite her when they felt she was no longer needed. Is that all love is? Using someone like a tool until someone, or thing, better comes along. Are we as humans so careless to toss away a life when it no longer seems a necessity to one’s own initiative.
         “Ungrateful fucks.” Mare heard the reflection mouth.
         Like being shot with epinephrine, she inhaled an exasperated breath of air. Her right arm jolted towards the mirror. She tugged on the wooden frame to reveal a medicine cabinet. She whipped her neck back to waft the rebel strands of hair from her face. This time she chose the blue pills near the end of the spectrum and gently closed the cabinet. She could hardly recognize the woman in the mirror anymore, but she knew her well.
         “So, this how they want it, then this is how it’s to be,” She told her. “ I never thought it would really come to this… but things like this.” She paused and reviewed her breast one final time. “Things like this don’t just happen. Not after all I’ve done. More than they’ve ever done for me, or anyone. Wild horses can’t be broken!” She put her robe back on, slipped the bottle into her left pocket and unlocked the bathroom door. For the first time in months, Mary smiled as she headed to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for the three of them.