You don't have time to figure it out

"AMELIA!"

The voice of Lady Cassandra Thunders through the house, interrupting you both. You hear her terrible steps getting louder and louder at a unbearable rhythm.

"Quick!" Says your sister, suddenly lively. "Get into the closet!" You barely have an option to oppose her as she moves you to your destination, her womanly brute **** returning to her in just a blink. She opens the door of the closet and forces you in. Darkness surrounds you, the door closing in just before your face, just as you hear another door opening. Lady Cassandra Barton, your mother, is here.

"What the hell is the meaning of this, Amelia?" The voice of the lady of the house oozes pure and melting rage. "Tell me: why do I have to suffer that prick of Mrs Peterson calling me to complain about my daughter?"

"Fuck her." Says Amelia. "I don't care what she thinks of me. She is just an old bitch! Fuck her!"

"I DID NOT HEARD THAT. DID I?"

"Fuck yeah you heard it! F..." A sharp, fleshy sound interrupts the lady Amelia as she falls into silence. You could almost felt the slap hitting your own cheeks, it brings you an uncanny warmth in this darkness. You then hear a deeper sound, as she appears to fall into the floor. You bring your hands to your mouth, trying to contain any sound amidst the dreadful silence.

"Now listen to me, you little brat." You hear the lady Cassandra "I'm drowning in shit right now with that twitter nonsense. I have no time nor patience for you to bring this shit again to me. I paid for your education, I paid for the best education, and you will not skip classes again, ever. You will not absent yourself for any future text. You hear me?"

"I told you I didn't want to study economics!"

"YOU CHOSE ECONOMICS!"

"It was that or fucking law!"

"Oh, I'm not hearing this. I'm not hearing this nonsense about Art again. You are my firstborn. You are a Barton. You are meant to lead, to bring this country to a better future, not to paint some bullshit liberal nonsense for men to enjoy in their cry-time. You have responsabilities, you have a duty as a woman and you better start behaving like one!"

"FUCK THAT." Yells your sister.

"Open your mouth." The matriarch hisses her order in a low and muddy tone.

"What?"

"I Said: open your fucking mouth."

You can't still see what happens next, but you hear what appears to be a tussle between the two. It is short, and the voice of lady Cassandra quickly announces her as the victor. "You reek of ****, young lady. Is that my favourite Scotch?." You hear a cringy sound that appears to be lady Amelia's intended answer. "For a woman that despises economics so much you seem to love some careless spending. Is that also...? Do I smell cock on you, young woman?"

Once more, it appears that lady Amelia tried to say something, but it doesn't come out. "Where is he?" Says your mother.

"Who?" The voice of Amelia sounds perfectly acted and convincing. Her tone clear and free of any doubt... but it comes just a second too late. You hear something fall to the floor, and lady Cassandra's steps start again. "Wait!" You hear Amelia cry, but the lady of the house does not listen. You hear thunderous noises around you as she begins to search for you. Her victory is imminent, inevitable. But you still close your eyes as if that would save you. The door of the closet is opened wide and forcefully and so you find yourself before the Barton Matriarch.

"Well, well... what to we have here?"