Are we really going to do this again?
I get it, you’re sixteen years old and you think you know everything, and you think your old man is out of touch and lame. Fine. You can sulk and whine and never look up from your phone when you’re at the dinner table all you want. But I’ll tell you this: There are some things that are non-negotiable in this house, and I don’t care if you don’t believe in the Dark Arts, you are under MY roof and you will live by MY Necronomicon, young lady.
You know this time of year is very important to us. But, you? You’ve sat up in your room Skyping and texting and Snapbooking with Baphomet-knows-who every night this week while your mother, sister and I are paying homage to our Dark Lord. Do you know how ashamed I felt when I had to lie to the High Priest last week when he asked why you weren’t at Black Mass? You put your mother and I in a very difficult position, Lilith, and we do not appreciate it.
What happened to my little girl? What happened to the sweet little laughing imp that would roll around in the goat’s blood I poured on the basement floor every year? What happened to the vengeful demon child who used to beg me to put curses on her teachers? What happened to the pale little servant of Satan who would bounce around in her car seat and beg me to play her favorite Gorgoroth album?
I know these years are tough for a girl your age. You’re transforming from a sweet little Witch’s apprentice into a Dark Mistress of the night. But I’ll tell you this, your attitude isn’t going to make this time in your life any easier. In a few years, you’ll go off to Transylvania to continue your studies and once you’ve graduated, you can live your life however you like.
Yes, Lilith. You’re going to the Transylvania University of Brasov. We’ve been over this. It was good enough for your mother and I and it’s good enough for you. I don’t want to hear another word about NYU.
I want you to know, I’m not mad. Just disappointed.
I’ll be downstairs with your sister, preparing the Pentagram. I hope you join us.
