Unconditional Love Under Editing

(2) ANASTASIA

Still with a hope I find a ray,
Landing on the roads of the unknown,
Keeping my head high,
And the spirits low,
For a better life,
I already paid all alone.

_________________________________________

I woke up at five, turning off my alarm. My body ached from yesterday's beating. I got up from bed but stumbled and let out a small cry of pain when I saw the bruise on my body.

"Anastasia, be strong," I whispered to myself. I steadied myself and took a step forward, heading to the bathroom. I turned on the tap, closing my eyes, hoping the hot water would wash away the pain.

After a soothing hot bath, I quickly changed into my old clothes. Layla's friends had given them to me, knowing I couldn't afford fashionable attire. They teased and taunted me, but I bore it all in silence. Their words couldn't overpower my quiet strength, and I took pride in that.

I went downstairs to start my morning chores. I couldn't leave for class until the whole house was cleaned and tidied. My aunt couldn't afford to hire another servant.

My room was on the first floor, while my aunt's and Layla's rooms were on the ground floor. My parents' room had become my aunt's, and Layla had taken over mine. I had fought, cried, and begged for a month to keep my parents' room, but in the end, I lost. The last thing that connected me to them was taken away.

"Well, it seems like you had a good night, Anastasia," Layla sneered. She sat, checking her too-short dress that barely covered her.

"Do you like it, Anastasia?" She asked, showing me her freshly painted nails.
"I do," I replied.

"Too bad, Miss Low-class can't afford them," she chuckled.

"By the way, dear, did you make my lunch?" My aunt emerged from her room, taking a seat.

"I have to leave for my shop," my aunt emphasized the "my." She knew it was my mom's shop, but she liked to think of herself as the owner.

"Yes, Aunt," I brought her breakfast and stood aside.

"Ana, some important guests are coming today, so be on your best behaviour and pick out something nice from Layla," she said. It was the first time she tried to portray herself as a good aunt, not the one who bullied her niece.

"I don't want people thinking I'm a cruel aunt who can't provide for her orphaned niece," she ordered, her tone softer than usual.

"And prepare dinner accordingly. You know I have that stick from yesterday, just in case," she smirked, finishing her breakfast.

She washed her hands and left. The marks from the beating were still visible on my back. It wasn't the first time she had hurt me; it had become a daily occurrence. Bruises covered my body, hidden from the world. I didn't have the strength to complain, knowing she'd find new ways to hurt me.

Her punishments were the worst. I still remembered one time when she locked me in a dark room for two days without food or water, just because I was late with her dinner.

I was always respectful to her, but she only saw me as a servant. Some days were harder than others. I struggled to accept that my family was gone. I used to hurt myself, but reading my mom's diary gave me the strength to fight. She always wanted me to be strong, so I put on a brave face for others, but inside, I felt terribly alone without them.