Nanowrimo 2020 Day 8 - Word Count and Favorite Bit (Patreon)

Today I added 2228 words to Match.God, making my current total word count 17,446! 

“I want out.”

Silence fell on the party, all eyes suddenly very firmly on Hannah. She snatched her hand back from Love, pressing her clenched fist into her chest so hard it almost hurt. She set her eyes very firmly on the hardwood flooring between her shoes and Death’s.

“Hannah,” Love said with a quiet voice. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I’m not here because I want to be!” Hannah snapped, whirling on Love. “I’m here because my bitch of a grandmother forced me to be! I tried to tell you this yesterday but you blew me off. I’ve met my match and I don’t want him, so let me leave!”

Love’s face fell, though Hannah couldn’t be sure if she was disappointed in herself or in Hannah. “I’m sorry, my dear. It doesn’t work that way.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t work that way?” Hannah demanded, taking a step back from Love. She could feel the panic rising in her chest as her stomach roiled. Her shaking hands felt cold.

“I was already aware of the situation between you and your grandmother,” Love said, her voice kind in a way that only made Hannah angrier. “Giotto kept me well informed of the goings-on in my domain. However, a divine contract cannot be broken, only fulfilled. I promised to find you a match, and I did. Now, you must spend the ascribed trial period with him. Should I have gotten it wrong, and I highly doubt I did, I am allowed two more attempts to match you. Each will have the same six-month trial period. I am sorry.”

Hannah felt like screaming, but her voice caught in her throat. She could only stare in horror as she backed away from Love. Somehow, even after all the torment she’d experienced, she never expected Grandmother to pull something like this. She’d signed Hannah’s life away for a full year and a half. Maybe more, if one of these apparent gods decided he didn’t want to let her go. She was trapped, unable to do anything.

She bumped into the coffee table in the middle of the room, almost falling over it. She glanced back, catching the sight of Grandmother, who had pushed her way to the front of the observing crowd. Hannah’s blood burned in her veins as the shock subsided only to be replaced by rage.

She whirled about, snatching a whiskey glass off the table. Gathering up all the strength she could muster, spurred on by all the fear and rage and resentment she’d bottled up for so long, she hurled the half-filled glass in Grandmother’s direction with a pained scream.

Grandmother’s eyes went wide, and she jumped back as the glass shattered at her feet.

“Hannah!” her father shouted, shock evident on his suddenly pale face.

“This is all your fault, you absolute bitch!” Hannah roared, taking one step, then another, towards her grandmother. Lindiwe and Clara shot up to hold her back, lest she do something worse. “You couldn’t just let me live! You just can’t stand it when you don’t get your way, can you? So you lashed out like a child, throwing a temper tantrum and selling off your granddaughter without a second thought!”

“Hannah, that’s enough,” her father scolded, pulling Grandmother back farther from the broken glass.

Hannah’s eyes snapped towards him, her fury finding a new target. “And you! You’ve been enabling her for years! And now look what she’s done! And yet you still defend her. I’m your daughter! Show some goddamned backbone and protect me like a father should for once in your pathetic life!”

“You have no right to talk to me like that,” her father hissed. But Hannah could see it: even as he pulled Grandmother away from the glass and her rage, her father cowered behind Grandmother. It made Hannah sick.

Hannah’s vision blurred as tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. What had she done to deserve this? What sin could she possibly have committed to be treated in such a way?

“I don’t understand,” she sobbed. “Why do you hate me so much?”