Manipulate

Chapter Twelve

"You missed a spot," Donatella snarls.

I glance up and look up at the tall and cruel woman in front of me.

"I-I- I'll get it," I stutter.

"Good. We're having company over tonight and I want the house to be spotless. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," I whisper.

Donatella kicks over the bucket of floor cleaner. "Clean it up! Now!" Donatella yells.

My body trembles as I attempt to grab the bucket. Then, I feel pain shoot through my hand all the way up through my arm.

Donatella stepped on my hand with her heel. I bite back a scream as I grab my left hand.

"Get up and clean up the mess!" Donatella orders.

I scamper to grab the bucket and towels. I glance at my hand. Blood. Blood. She stepped on my hand hard enough to cause it to bleed.

The mess is cleaned up and now I'm standing in the bathroom with a piece of gauze pressed against my skin. I flinch as the medicine makes contact with my wound. Aj doesn't know about this injury. He should've never known anything about it.

The water turned pink when I was washing the wound. Thankfully Aj or dad didn't see this happen.

"Go to your room and stay there until I send Linda or Lillie up to tell you that you can come down stairs," Donatella says as she stands in the doorway.

"Yes ma'am," I whisper.

I trudge up the stairs toward my room. I close the door quietly and sit on my bed. I pull up my sleeves. The scars from the teapot accident are still there. They healed, but they're still visible. I grab my pillow and yell into it until my lungs can't take until my throat is hoarse.

I hear Donatella welcome her guests and lead them through the foyer. This is the stuff I hate doing. Her voice sounds so fake. It's sick.

"Don't go up there. It's too dirty up there," Donatella says to someone.

I roll over onto my side on my bed. I flinch when I smash my hand into the mattress.

I hear the conversations through the walls and floor.

I get up off of my bed and start pacing my room. I feel something speed up. What did I do? I think.

I glance at the clock. It's seven thirty. But when I last looked it was six thirty.

I feel panic rise in my chest. My heart starts racing. "Oh my God. Oh my God," I whisper. I run my hands through my hair. Don't worry. It'll be okay, I contradict.

The panic fades and I feel better. My hands are still shaking though. I turn and look at the long rectangle mirror on my wall. I lift my shirt up and look over my shoulder. I see all the healed but visible scars on my back. The scars are the paint and my back is the canvas.

Donatella, Linda and Lillie throw open my door as I let go of my shirt. Donatella has one of my dad's belts in her right hand. "Both of you grab one of her wrists," Donatella commands.

I try to fold myself in a corner. But Linda and Lillie each grab a wrist.

"Hold still!" Donatella snarls.

The belt comes down on my back. Once. Twice. Three times. She keeps doing it until my skin is raw and blistered. My screams come out in agony. "Quit crying. Shut your mouth now," Donatella orders.