Living in her own world -Part 2- (Republished)
“She is a our servant.” Aunt Emma said. God lord… what was a supposed to do? “Your room is in the basement.You are to clean up your room a bit. You have one hour. Supplies are in the kitchen cabinet. Well, go! Go you stupid child!”
“But… I want a room like Nessa has!” I was frozen. Aunt Emma picked up the broom in the corner and hit my back with the handle. “OW!”
“You stupid,stupid child! You should be grateful you’re here!” Aunt Emma’s face turned a dark shade of red. “NOW GO!”
I scrambled out of the room. I went into the basement and saw what I was going to live in for years to come. It was filthy. I got a mop. I mopped the floor and found a old blanket. I also found wooden boards. I decided I would rather get messy and light a fire and sleep with the blanket under me,than sleep on the floor. I took the boards and and stacked them together. That would be my bed. I found some logs and a bag of coal. I set them near the old fire place. It would be ok.
“Time’s up you stupid child!” Aunt Emma hollered.
“I’m coming,I’m coming!” I hollered back.When I got up the stairs she smacked me upside the head. “Ow…”
“That’s what you get for back talking your aunt.” She squinted her eyes at me.Then her eyes turned back to normal as she inhaled a sharp breath. “Go make us dinner. Well, finish it. Cut up the turkey and set the table. Put the food on the plates. Go now.”
I rushed to follow orders, so I would get beat again. Preparing dinner was the least of my worries at the time. I had two weeks worth of clothes. I was going to get beat at least once a day, and she might possibly starve me. I was scared.
“Well, well… a fine job.” She took a breath. “Now go to bed.”
“What about dinner?” I asked.
“Why should I? If you want food you can go beg on the streets for it. Not in my house. You stay here, you work. But you only get shelter. Not food. Now GO!”
I stood frozen.She was going to starve me. I knew what this meant. I could move out. But it was to cold outside. Either way I would die.
I raced down stairs. I did the only thing that would make this painless.
I planned to die. And in the middle of the night I crept upstairs. I found the knifes.
That was the end.
I regret it a tiny bit, but I know starving to death was worse than dying on the spot. Nessa went to heaven and she tells me how she wished she could help me. I tell her it’s not her fault. It isn’t. It was her mother’s fault. And Aunt Emma paid the price for it.
She went to hell. And she suffers everyday from not eating like I would have.