-*| The Cursed World |*-

Chapter Eight: Good Wife

A/N: Oh, this is random, but I just looked this up as I was like: where did I get this word from? "Night-terror" is the word for "nightmare" in Warriors. That series back good memories.

Also this chapter will be shorter as I don't have as much time, but I hope to make more chapters that are — longer — like Chapter Five.
-Author

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After we finish cleaning the dishes, and tidying the house up, Mom takes us back up to the bathroom.

A sharp memory of how... dirty or ruined this house was, lingers back to me. However, now it is so clean! Must have been a night-terror from awhile back.

"Now, my girls, I know that when you both are to be married off is in a while from now; double your age, Hebe, but then again you are a bit... dumber from being a little dirty," Mom pulls my hair behind my ear.

I have begun to just associate my hair with being the wig, as I only let my real hair loose to wash it so it won't get nasty and rank of that greasy hair smell.

"What does that mean?" I ask.

She just smiles at me, "Never mind."

Then she pulls out a small red box, which when opened, reveals a small black wand. I blink at it with curiously.

Mom then pulls Clover over. "First thing you must learn from your husband, besides to clean and make meals for him, is to always look beautiful for him and his desires. Which means no flaws."

Clover pushes herself back. "I think I look fine!"

I chime in too, "Yeah, Clover is already beautiful,"

Mom mutters, "Awwee, that's great, but I see issues."

She winds the black wand by her eyes. Clover flinches, but she holds her head still. When she is finished, her eyelashes are longer than they were before, and look more thick. I honestly don't see that much of a difference, though.

She goes to wipe at it, but our mother scowls again. "Don't touch! You will smudge it. It will come off with water after a while."

Then she comes over to me, and repeats the process. "Usually we don't share, but I only have one."

I guess it is alright, but I feel like this should be more like for your preference. Like if you prefer to have your eyelashes styled like this.

Then she goes over us with that same creamy stuff she used to cover up by scabs and bruises. I remember this being called "concealer."

This continues with a little reddish tint, which makes us look like we are blushing. Mom says this is called "blush." Pretty creative.

Then she just steps back and looks at her work. "You two are young, so I won't spend too much time on you. That would be a waste on your youthful faces,"

I did not really get that, but at least we are done. This stuff is itchy! I want to rub my face, but Mom continues to pull our hands back.

"If we have to wear this, then do guys have to wear anything to please us?" Clover mutters.

She completely ignores her, and just continues on. "The next rule is to never argue with your husband. Then you should also produce many heirs for him, especially boys. Oh, most importantly—"

"But you don't follow all of those," Clover murmurs.

"Shh, you must. Women take care of the home and children; that is our role in our community. If you don't follow that, you get punished." She taps Clover's nose at 'punished.'

'Punished.' I shiver. That memory of hotting the wall, the sharp sound it made, the way the pain spiraled around me... That was probably a punishment.

"Anyways," She continues, "The most important rule is to never have any relations with dirty-coats." Mom looks at me after she says this, "The easiest way to avoid this is to not go outside, which you both should already be doing, anyways."

We both nod. I feel like another weight is being placed on me. Memories of some long-ago event drift back to me. I briefly remember almost taking some strange man's hand, who looked a lot like me.

I don't remember much, but I do know that if I took his hand, I wouldn't be here. That had been a different path for me; one that I sometimes hear Clover mumbling about to herself in wherever she goes in her dreams.

I do know one thing for sure, though: That the path I did choose is coming for me, faster than I will want it to.