Body trembling with rage, she struggled to keep her voice down as her mother desperately tried to shush her. "She broke this too?" she thundered, her mother nervously looking towards the closed door, wondering if the demon inside had it's ears pressed against the door.

Six months. Six months was how long this hell hole had been alive. A house filled with frequent laughter, random bouts of dancing and beautiful green flora and fauna had descended into tempers running high, blood hot. The greenery had all but fizzled out, even the leaves recoiling from her venomous touch. "All mothers-in-law are bad," her mother had told her once, never had she thought that it would run to this extent. 

Stupid questions, asked with the intention to poke fun at girls who wanted to make their mark on the world, Jeering remarks and nosy comments aimed at pouring salt over wounds had gotten to the point where they could barely stand the sight of their resident witch prowling around their house like she owned it. 

Bulbs fizzled out in a day or two, machines she would use broke after a few days when they'd been working fine year after year. Everything she saw someone eat, she had to eat too, uncaring whether the rest of the family starved or not. 

Six months worth of anger simmering in her hot blood, she stood there, twenty-three years old and unimaginably angry, looking at her mother's crumpled expression, the mixer lying broken before them. Rage flew like lava in her veins and for the first time she raised her eyes heavenward and cursed the poltergeist that haunted their home. 

When she dies, no one will shed a tear, no one will mourn. Such that no one will even want to cremate her, she will fue wretchedly, filled with agony, and when she knocks on heaven's gates, she will be denied entry. 

Years later when she got a call of her grandmother's painful passing, her eyes regained their calm. Her soul, appeased.