Skankarella

Prologue

The Beginning

Madison's father had a bit of a wild side, one that involved alcohol and the kind of dingy bars that anyone under six feet and two hundred pounds would know to avoid. Most of the time he was able to reign it in enough to be able to raise her. It wasn't strange to see him stumble in a few hours past midnight after a long night of drinking, but he was always faithfully up at the crack of dawn the next day to see her off to school.

Madison loved her father. He had his faults, but he was good to her. Whether it was a watchful eye, or a shoulder to cry on, he was always there, often with a can of beer in one hand, but there nonetheless.

That all changed when he met Shirley. At first it seemed like a terrible match, Shirley playing the part of the conservative minister's daughter, and Brent being the wild child that he was. Madison certainly wasn't happy about the arrangement. Still, Shirley was able to inspire something in Brent that no one else ever had, stability. Leather jackets turned to sports coats and beers turned to cups of coffee. Between Shirley's religious influence and Brent's mischievous tendencies, a balance was struck that Madison begrudgingly accepted.

Things might have been a bit easier were it not for Shirley's two daughters, Rebekah and Grace. While their mother might have retained some connection to secularism (if only because of Brent), Grace and Rebekah were downright dogmatic in their parroting of their mother's deeply held beliefs. Madison thought that most of it was merely them taking out their frustrations on the new girl that split their mother's attention, rather than any actual adherence to faith. Either way, Madisinner, as they had started calling her, was their favorite target of God-inspired ridicule. Only Brent was able to keep them in check as Shirley tended to turn a blind eye.

Unfortunately, Brent's wild lifestyle caught up with him and one morning he used the last of the beats that his heart had for him. It was Madison who had suffered the awful fate of finding him settled coldly into his favorite recliner, never to move again. The scene only added to Grace and Rebekah's contention that Madison was a devil-child and pushed Shirley down a path that Brent had long kept her from traveling.

Overnight, it seemed, their old farmhouse, an inviting building slathered in sloppy green and white paint, was converted into a citadel of the Lord, and the three girls were immediately pulled from public school. The bible became law and anything else, aside from what the State of Kansas mandated, was of no importance. From then on, their exams were God’s exams, proctored and graded by Shirley of course, an ever willing assistant to her savior. With her fundamentalism, Shirley's hatred of Madison, which had been masked by her affections for Brent, had finally been allowed to flourish and grow. And flourish it did.

Chapter 1

Bible Study

Madison!

The girl to which the name belonged could hear her stepmother's shrill voice winding up the attic stairs to her small closet of a bedroom. Madison ignored her and continued to press her pencil softly into the dog-eared pages of a faded sketchbook. She'd been awake for an hour already, just drawing, but she knew the fact that everyone else in the house expected her to be lazy would buy her precious minutes until she started to get into any real trouble.

Madison! the voice cried again, raising an octave. The girl's blood pressure began to rise with the increasing agitation of the owner of the voice, but she forced a measure of calm into herself. Just a few more strokes.

MADISON! This time the voice was accompanied by a loud stomping on the bottom step of the rickety stairway. Madison's grip tightened, the pencil lead snapped, and an ugly scratch marred her drawing. She cursed, folded up the sketchbook, and stashed it back in its hiding place, precariously taped to the underside of one of her desk drawers.

She pulled a pair of ratty jeans on over her slender pale legs and tried to pat her short purple hair down into something that resembled neatness. Realizing she was on borrowed time, Madison gave up quickly, grabbed her bible, and hurried down the steps.

When she reached the living room, Shirley was waiting for her with a look of utter contempt on her face. The kind she usually reserved for heathens, homosexuals and the rest of the unsaved. Madison sneered inwardly back at her stepmother. Shirley's crazy scowl and long disheveled brown-turning-gray hair always made Madison think of an old woman who lived alone with an army of nasty cats.

Shirley's actual nasty cats, her twin daughters Grace Mary, and Rebekah Mary sneered at Madison as well, more out of sadistic delight at seeing their mother exact her ire than out of actual hatred.

What were you doing up there? Grace asked, running a hand through her thin blonde hair.

Masturbating? Rebekah continued, picking up where her sister left off.

"Yeah, with your hairbrush," Madison answered, rolling her eyes. They were knocked back into a submissive gaze as Shirley's hand came down hard on Madison's cheek. Grace and Rebekah giggled, their perfect smiles and smooth skin marred by the malice in their eyes.

I don't know why you're always late, Shirley hissed. You need this more than the rest of us, you little whore.

Slut, Rebekah called out.

Skank, Grace added, then her eyes went wide. She whispered something to Rebekah and the two of them grinned.

God knows what was wrong with the festering little whore you were spawned from, you little bastard child, Shirley continued. It's astounding that your fucking father was the saner of the two parents and was saddled with your sinful little ass.

Madison clutched her bible tightly, trying to dig her nails into the soft cover, to tear it apart with the iron anger she felt within her. They could insult her as much as they wanted, and on most days she wouldn't even give them a second thought, but assaults on her father's character wouldn’t stand. Every time a pair of lips gave them life, the insults took away more of memories that were fading all too fast, replacing the pleasantness with the propaganda. Images of what used to be were all Madison had to tether herself to sanity.

Go back to your little hole, Shirley said, pointing back up the stairs. You're beyond saving today...as you are most days. You've probably already booked yourself a one way ticket to hell, but I'd be a sinner myself if I didn't try to redirect your soul somehow. But even God has his limits in patience, and thus so do I. Leave.

Madison tried to hide her smile as she trudged back up the stairs. It was a rare occurrence. She had pissed Shirley off just enough so that the woman was unwilling to put up with her, and yet had stayed below the levels that would result in some sort of sadistic punishment. Of course, that could always come later, but Madison was too thrilled about avoiding bible study to even think about the future.

Let them wallow in their lies Jaq, she muttered as her unofficial pet cat stepped off the roof and onto the sill of the open window. You might have to snare some food for me later, she added, settling into the window seat and petting the surprisingly soft fur of the mangy looking gray cat. I feel another day without lunch and dinner coming on.

Jaq seemed to nod in acknowledgement and laid down on the windowsill, prompting a laugh from Madison. She glanced warily at the door before pulling her sketchbook out once more, along with the object of her inspiration. The sketchbook went on her knees as an old issue of The Uncanny X-Men dominated the space on her desk.

The comic was stretched wide to a panel that showed the voluptuous Jean Grey in as great a state of undress as the illustrators could show without having to resort to censor bars. Madison's teeth abused her lower lip as she concentrated, attempting to match the perfect round contours of the character's ample bust.

An hour later, Madison was shaken from her artistic reverie by footsteps creaking towards her door. Her heart raced, usually her finely tuned ears were able to pick up an intruder the minute they started up the stairs, but she'd gotten lost in the delectable curves of her paper model.

She hastily opened a desk drawer and shoved everything inside, hoping that whoever had come to visit wouldn't also wish to search her room. It was a rare occurrence, but it always seemed to happen at the worst possible moments. Hoping to throw her visitor off, she opened her bible to a random page and tried to look busy as she heard a hand on the doorknob. A soft, but resolute click made her sigh with relief. The footsteps started back down the stairs, their only goal having been to lock Madison away.

It was not an uncommon occurrence, happening at least a few times a week and lasting anywhere from a few hours to a few days. At least it put one more barrier and several more seconds between her and anyone that might want to storm into her room. With her desire to retain possession of the sketchbook and the comic book, those were valuable seconds. Madison sighed, trying to focus on the brighter aspects of her isolation and turned back to the delectable form of Ms. Jean Grey.

Chapter 2

Dinnertime

Dinnertime skank!

Skankarella!

The identical voices called up the stairs, piercing the air like a pair of shrill whistles. Their sing-song tone and dripping happiness told Madison that something was up, something that could not possibly bode well for her.

Madison sighed as she slid her notebook back into its usual spot and stepped in front of her mirror. The ritual was two-fold, half an attempt to improve her appearance, half an effort to stall as much as she could before heading downstairs. She ran her hands through her short purple hair, not quite long enough to lay down, not quite short enough to stand on end. It had been a small rebellion, but it had been worth it. Anything that she could do to remind herself that she was living her own life, not the life Shirley Roper would have selected for her, paid dividends in helping the days pass a little quicker.

Her hands ran behind her, pinching the voluminous folds of her t-shirt into something more form-fitting. The subtle curves, the taut stomach, the surprisingly ample bust; all were points of jealousy for Grace and Rebekah. The twins were attractive in their own right. Long haired, leggy blondes, large and small in all the right places, but they didn't quite compare to Madison.

She had never been able to figure out why, but Rebekah and Grace tended to be absorbed into the crowd, tended to disappear among the many other attractive girls that looked just like them. Blondes were all too common, girls with purple hair were not. Madison stood out. On the rare instances she was allowed in public, people turned to look at Madison. Boys noticed Madison. Too bad for them the feelings were entirely one sided.

Madison made a futile attempt to instill some organization into her hair, sighing when the strands continued to follow their own rules. She rearranged her oversized t-shirt and loose fitting jeans again, trying to make them hide her body more than they already did. At times she felt invisible in the clothes, reduced to a pixyish head and pale skinny limbs amid the folds of fabric.

God damnit you little whore, get down here! Shirley this time. Madison sighed and made her way towards the door, only to find that it was still locked.

Great, she said to herself, sitting back on the bed. As she leaned back, her shirt came up to reveal a less than half inch wide sliver of pale skin. Madison thought about fixing it, but realized there was no way she’d be able to avoid catching hell since she wasn’t at dinner. Might as well deserve it a little, she mumbled.

Sure enough, the sound of several angry stomps filled the air. Madison would have worried, but she preferred things when Shirley was being an overt and obvious bitch. At least then she knew what she was up against. When her stepmother started sneaking around, that's when things became difficult. A few seconds later Madison heard Shirley's hands fumble with the lock before succeeding and throwing the door open. It bounced softly off of a pillow that had placed up against the wall in the event of such an occurrence. The lack of noise and damage done by her entrance seemed to piss Shirley off even more.

Several strands of her wavy brown hair fell in front of her face, giving her a shrouded and demonic look. Why aren't you downstairs? she hissed.

Madison fought the urge to roll her eyes, an easy feat because Shirley's temper often left her petrified. T-the door was locked, I couldn't get out, Madison offered weakly.

In a quick motion that made Madison jump, Shirley stood up straight and began fixing her hair. When she was angry, there was no telling what she would do, and any sudden movement was a cause for alarm. Too slow a reaction and Madison could find herself the unwilling recipient of an open palm.

Why are you so jumpy? Shirley asked in a voice too calm to seem humanly possible given her appearance a few short seconds previous. Come down to dinner, she said, turning and exiting the room.

Madison followed with noiseless steps, nervously wondering why everyone was so intent on seeing her at the dinner table. Usually if she didn't come downstairs, they were all perfectly willing to eat without her. Depending on her level of hunger, Madison chose this course of action as often as she could. Jaq was smart enough to occasionally snatch her leftovers from the fridge in the middle of the night. The cat never looked as proud as he did when he was padding onto the roof with a large zip-lock bag of food dangling from his mouth.

Madison settled quietly into her seat as her step-sisters eyed her with malicious grins. It didn't seem possible that she could be ostracized at such a small round table, but with the two girls seemingly pinned to either side of their mother, that's exactly what happened. For the first time, Madison noticed that she was missing her plate.

I'm not eating tonight? Madison asked more as a confirmation than a question.

Oh you're eating dear, Shirley answered smiling sweetly and pointing over Madison's shoulder. Tucked into the corner, a few feet off the welcome mat was Madison's tiny plate, filled with a meager helping of chicken and stuffing. And know that if you don't eat tonight, you're not eating tomorrow. Now get in your place while the rest of us say our prayers.

Madison stared at Shirley in disbelief. It shouldn't have been such a shock considering some of the other things Shirley had done. And better for Shirley, eating off the floor wouldn't leave a mark, not a physical one anyways. After a short pause, Madison walked glumly over to the corner. She resisted turning to face the table and crossing her arms, a confrontational stance that no doubt would have raised the ire of Shirley even further.

I don't see how you're going to eat while standing, her step-mother called. Hiding a sigh, Madison dropped to the floor, half sitting, half kneeling.

Much better, came the reply and Madison could hear the three of them whispering prayers together. You may start, Shirley said after a few moments. Madison could feel the three sets of eyes on her as she began to pick at her food. They hadn't done her the favor of giving her any silverware so she was forced to eat with her hands. As she slid the first small piece of chicken into her mouth, tears began to fall. She kept her back to the table, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

Madison looked up at the front door, a scant few feet away and for a moment contemplated throwing herself through it. She had nowhere to go, however, and even in the spring-turning-summer, Kansas weather could be moody. Madison resigned herself to cleaning her plate, annoyed with the fact that in spite of things, it felt good to get some food in her stomach. Having been locked in her room since morning, it had been over a day since she’d had any food.

Madison cleared her plate as fast as she could stopping short of licking it clean. Her stomach wanted her to, but her pride wouldn’t have it. She needed to hold onto some dignity. Can I go now? she asked, swallowing hard and trying to press some measure of confidence into her voice.

Are you done with dinner? Shirley badgered. Show me your plate.

Without turning around, Madison held up the empty dish.

Good, now rinse it off and leave until you're called back down to clear the table.

Madison sighed and turned towards the sink. It was one of the few times she wished her hair was longer so that it would obscure her ugly tear streaked face. She kept her eyes on the floor as she walked across the room, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. Still, she knew the three of them were grinning at her misery.

Skankarella, Grace whispered as she passed.

Fag, Rebekah added.

Madison turned on the sink, wishing that the rushing water would do more to obscure the muted conversation behind her. The old farmhouse did have one modern appliance, a dishwasher that Madison had never been allowed to use. She was always forced to clean her lone plate by hand so that her mother’s and stepsisters’ things remained uncontaminated. The one good thing about being forced to do it on her own was that she could settle for clean enough, instead of suffering towards Shirley’s unrealistic definition of clean. Madison rushed through the task, setting her things in the cupboard and rushing towards her room, ignoring more insults lobbed her way by her step-sisters.

About a dozen of the fourteen steps to the attic creaked when anything larger than a small dog walked upon them. Madison took pleasure in stepping heavily on each one, hoping that every time she walked across them, the warning they made when a member of her step-family traversed them grew a little louder.

She pushed her way through the thick wooden door into the dark abyss that was her tiny attic home. The peaked roof made the room seem even smaller than it actually was. There was just enough space for a small twin bed