Chapter 1
The scene before me reminded me of the old black and white photos one would find in a trunk in someone’s attic: pale skin, dreary black clothes, fake tears smearing their cheeks, and large black umbrellas protecting them from misty rain; I stood about thirty feet away from those supposed grievers, gazing at the two caskets that seemed to wait impatiently to finally be lowered into their respective graves. I considered sitting on the mangy green chairs the funeral home provided for the family, but these people were not my family, yet by blood, but in no other way. The tight black shoes my aunt had forced me to wear were pinching my toes and the short black dress was drenched by the sky’s tears and clung distastefully to my skin. I considered faking my own few tears for my dead parents’ sake, but why waste perfectly good tears over people I hated so much in life and now hated even in death?
Chapter 1
Today in science class I learned every cell in our body is replaced every seven years. How lovely it is to know one day I will have a body you will have never touched.
-L. M
May Loise Stow was a monster -not the silly monsters in cartoons who munched on cookies- no, she was the monster featured in those most frightful nightmares - the ones that cause you to wake up drenched in sweat with a scream that burned your throat. She was the one in mine. With each creak of the floorboard beneath her shiny stilettos, the more dread filled my body. By the sound of her hurried, heavy steps, I could tell she was ticked. My mind raced and sorted through everything I had done that day: every chore, the supper I had fixed for the kids - everything was spic and span. I faced the door with as much resolve as I could muster, I prepared an argument in my head, but the flimsy door flung open revealing the angry, hate filled eyes of the woman I had once been proud to have called my aunt. The slap to my face came before I had a chance to react. I let out a startled cry as I flew backwards against the hard bedframe.
“You have one job! One job!” she screeched as she grabbed me and pushed me to the ground. For a moment, she pressed her sharp heel deep into my side. “I came home expecting a nice, warm supper only to find that you have not, in fact, even started on it!” The urge to scream gurgled in my throat as I tried to protect my midsection as much as I could. “To make you obey I suppose I’ll have to start penalizing you since you just can’t seem to remember anything I tell you! Would you like that, Adaline? Huh?”
“Y-you said not to wor- worry about it because you were going…” I was cut off by her foot on my vocal cords, slowly adding pressure until all that came out of my mouth was a muffled croak. She quickly stepped off, but I wanted to cry and scream as she kicked me again and again with her other foot. My arms wrapped desperately around my shaking body trying to protect my cracking ribs, but her kicks just pushed my arms away. My hand, still cramping from scrubbing the floors, finally grasped the leg of my bed. I tried pulling myself up, but her bright red heel came down on my hand. I cried out with tears stinging my eyes which only seemed to infuriate her more.
“You are a disgrace to this family! I should’ve turned you out on the streets as soon as your parents were cold in their grave - can’t even do one thing right, you good for nothing animal!” Her voice was loud, but I could hardly hear her over the ringing in my ears. She leaned down, supporting herself on her knees, as she stared with hatred at my tear-stained face. Aunt May ran a long-manicured fingernail down my cheek and past my jaw till she had reached my throat. She smiled softly as she wrapped each of her fingers around my neck. I could feel each of her nails sinking into my skin drawing that unwelcome acquaintance - blood. She squeezed slowly as if enjoying the slow progression of my face turning purple. I tried to speak, to beg her for mercy, but all I gave up was a choked gasp. I latched onto the sheets of my mattress as I weakly tried to pull myself up and away from my aunt. She laughed with a tilt of her head.
“You really are one ugly little beast,” Aunt May bitterly stated as she released my neck. “If my food isn’t ready in ten minutes your Uncle Jeff will have his way with you.” Her demeanor changed as her lips pulled into a sweet smile and gave my head a gentle pat. “I really do wish you would listen, Addy, I don’t like having to discipline you. Everything I do is out of love.”
While the soup warmed on the stove, I sat at the bar and inspected my abdomen. Bruises had begun to form along my stomach and ribcage and replaced those that had begun to fade. I wanted so desperately to hate my body, but it wasn’t her fault, so I did my best to love her and take care of her. Sometimes you are all you have. I heard the kitchen door open behind me, so I quickly dropped my shirt. Mary Ann, the absolute, most useless maid met my eyes as she sauntered in. She smiled sadly, most likely having just gotten an ear full of Aunt May complaining about what a terrible person her niece was. The only reason she was here was so that Aunt May could brag to her friends that she had a maid. Other than that, she didn’t do anything and was getting paid bookoos to sit around watching TV with the occasional yell at my twin cousins. I couldn’t help but like her though. She was the only one who had been there for me, the one who cooed over my scrapes, and bandaged my wounds. I couldn’t hate her for saying nothing about my aunt, and I wouldn’t want her too anyway. I suppose being here was better than being with a foster family who I don’t know or being out in the streets. She smiled faintly at me as she handed me an unopened salad bag from the fridge. “Salad always goes with soup.” Her smile was sympathetic. I wish I could slap it off her face.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~“Are you alright, ma’am?” The hunched old man scanning my groceries asked.
“Of course, I am,” I replied with a forced smile that I didn’t feel, “How are you?”
“Not too shabby,” he said with a close look at my bruised cheek, “another tumble down the stairs?” I flushed as he handed me the paper sack with my groceries.
“I’m very clumsy,” I finally said. It was clear that he didn’t believe me; he never did. Though I had never known his name, and I doubted he knew mine, for the last five years that I’d been going to his grocery store, he had always made sure that I was ok. I appreciated that, of course, but I’d rather not be asked. Curiosity killed the cat.
“You have a wonderful day, ma’am. And don’t go falling down those stairs again, you hear?”
“Yes sir, you have a good day too.” I forced a smile as I walked away. Rain was coming down in torrents. The idea of having to walk home in this downpour made me scowl. Too bad my life isn’t like the movies. I imagined a hot guy would pull over and ask if I wanted a ride, and then we’d fall in love, and all that cheesy stuff I practically lived for. But this is not a movie. This is real life, and not only is it real life this is my life; a life of living hell where nothing goes right. A car sped by as I began the trek down the cracked sidewalk, drenching my clothes with its muddy spray. Thanks, a lot! I really appreciate it.
Water dripped steadily off my black floppy hat into the gathering puddles below. I like rain, it smells like the old attic where I used to watch my mother paint. I also love the thunder because it is something that I can understand. The anger that builds up within its chest until it can’t hold it anymore, and so finally like a caged beast, it releases its built-up anger with screams and tears. Thunder knows.
Another car zoomed by in a hurry to get wherever they might go and drenched me with sludge. Geeze, no wonder I hate people. My groceries were soaked. The paper bag started to tear, and the contents waited to spill out into the ankle-deep puddles. I moved my hands under the bag for support and prayed it wouldn’t completely rip; however, to give it credit, it was doing a rather good job of holding itself together. Better than I was anyway.
My aunt’s house looked like a ghastly haunted house from the stories. The plants she was so proud of in the summer were now dead, the siding that is usually a pearly white was now weathered and stained from the grey, damp air and a naked tree stood in the front looking like it had those gnarly arms from the fairytale Snow White. I’d always loved that tree. It had been my only friend for the past seven years but even she seemed ready to choke me with her thin boughs. Everything in life is a traitor once you break down all the pieces.
I opened the large mahogany door that squeaked unnecessarily loud; my ears pricked at the sound of a movie playing in the living room. Hopefully Aunt May will be so absorbed in her Korean dramas that she will forget about me and not see the bag of soaked food. Mary Ann met me in the kitchen with a distressed expression on her face. What could be wrong now? She said nothing to my questioning gaze, but instead began helping me put the groceries away as quickly and quietly as possible. Her eyes continued to glance over her shoulder towards the door with a deep frown. She looked older; the wrinkles around the corners of her eyes and mouth stood out drastically.
“Where are the twins?” I asked. Normally by this time my twelve-year-old cousins would be jumping around the kitchen begging for a snack. Children are always hungry.
“I have them occupied with a show in their bedroom, but I would hurry and get snacks together because that was a while ago,” Mary Ann replied softly. I pursed my lips as I examined the food stocked in the massive pantry trying to decide what to give the picky twins. Apples and peanut butter would be easy. Maybe I could bake some cookies after school tomorrow. I began spooning the peanut butter into a bowl. The kitchen door swung open. Mary Ann almost dropped the glass bowl in her hands as she stared at Aunt May like a deer caught in headlights. Aunt May looked around with an observant expression etched on her face as if looking for an excuse to beat me.
“Do you have the twin’s snacks?” she demanded crossing her arms with a small smile. I held up the bowl of peanut butter and an apple that I had begun to cut.
“Yes ma’am.” I murmured as I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
“Speak up, Child!” she yelled with a scowl and slapped my face, “you have no respect for me whatsoever, you are such an ungrateful brat!” She slapped me again without an ounce of remorse. The place on my cheek where her hand touched, tingled renewing the pain from the bruise I had just received only two or so hours ago. When was enough, enough? Would it ever be enough for her? I doubted it as it seemed she enjoyed the pain her hands brought me. But all monsters come to an end - even the most terrifying. Right?
