Her mind was still playing and replaying the sight of so many people gathered in the living room; she may have been a performer, but she had never felt more exposed. She felt judged, condemned, cursed. It harkened back to the days when her mother and Noel would send her upstairs to her room, then stand in the kitchen arguing about her while she eavesdropped. She could hear her mother's shrill voice defending her. "She's on the straight and narrow, Noel. I can't help who her father was." "You couldn't help? You couldn't help it? Of course you could help it, Larissa. You didn't have to marry that thug, or have a kid with him. You'll fuck anything in leather, and so will she. Mark my words. It's only a matter of time before her true nature shows. If it hadn't been for me keeping her on such a tight leash, she already would have been knocked up in the back of a biker bar." “Noel, she's an honor student. She's homecoming queen. She does her chores. She's done every single thing you've asked of her, and more." Noel had laughed derisively; she could always picture him ensconced in his armchair, scotch in hand, like some sadistic Old King Cole.
