Stop it! uncle

Chapter 1

CRYSTAL
     
I washed the floor for the fifth time upon my step mother's request—my arms already sore from rubbing too much, my fingers were red.

I finally finished the section I was cleaning and with a bright smile on my face, I ran to my stepmother hoping to please her this time with the work I had done. I found her on the chair painting her nails— stopping every minute to admire the work she was doing.
   
“Are you done already?”. she asked, sensing my presence. “Yes ma'am” I replied, secretly hoping I would be given food this time.

I hadn't eaten since last night and it was dinner time already and the worms in my stomach were protesting for something to eat. I didn't mind the type of food as long as it was food.

My mouth watered at the thought of having warm food coat my tongue again.
    
My step mum stood up and walked towards the direction I had cleaned. I followed her closely and happily as I knew I had done a great job this time.

All of a sudden she stopped, making me bump into her. She turned around and like a flash of lightning, I felt a heavy slap on my face. I fell to the cold floor, my lips bleeding from the impact, staining the floor I spent hours cleaning.

'I'd have to clean that again' I thought. My eyes brimmed with tears but I refused to cry. I clutched the locket my mother left me before she died, biting my already injured bottom lip to stop myself from crying.
   
“You brat” she screeched “how many times have I told you that the floor must be sparkling white, your stupid ears are probably not working well and those……” I zoned out from the rest of the curse words she spilled out, my ears still ringing from the impact.
      
“Moooom” my step sister, Chloe whined from above the stairs as she began to descend down “what has the fool done again? she woke me up from my beauty sleep” she whined with a pout on her face.

She looked ugly from the excessive makeup on her face especially from someone who claimed to be sleeping.

She was just thirteen, two years younger than I was, forgive me for hating my step sister. She walked to her mother's side, glanced at the floor and screamed, the sound hurting my already tender ears.
    
“Ewww, mom this fool stained the floor with her blood you know I hate the sight of blood, I'm going to puke now” she said, making gagging sounds.

“I can't deal with…..” I zoned out on her too and her mother who hadn't stopped cursing at me. I mentally counted from one to ten hoping they would end before I reached ten. I was at nine when….

“Stella” my step mum yelled drawing me back to reality. “Take this brat to the servant quarters and give her a lesson, she seems to have forgotten the lessons you give her”.
    
The cruel maid Stella who was in her early thirties came to drag me away as she had an hobby of inflicting injuries on me. I struggled from her grip.

“No, let me go” I shouted. Just then my father walked into the scene, he looked at me and his expression changed to one of disgust. “What is she doing here? ” he asked “isn't she supposed to be in the servant quarters?”.
   
“Yes honey” my step mother said in a coy voice that gave me goosebumps. “Stella was just taking her”.she glanced at me still smiling, daring me to say otherwise.

I accepted the challenge, my father never knew I was always being abused whenever he wasn't home or maybe he knew and just ignored it.

He must have definitely seen the purple bruises on my neck. “No, daddy don't let them take me. They're going to hurt me, I promise I cleaned the floor properly” I begged.
        
He just looked at me with disgust still etched on his face. “You don't deserve to speak you brat after killing your own mother”.

“Oh honey, don't be so harsh on her, you know how rebellious kids are at this age” she cooed giving the impression that she was on my side but we both knew how much she despised me. I had no idea why I expected my dad to defend me.
       
He had always been so cold to me, constantly reminding me I was the reason for my own mother's death.

She died when I was two years old from a prolonged illness which I was told was a complication from her pregnancy which the doctors told her not to have but she went ahead, falling deaf ears to the several warnings.

Since the incident, my father avoided me like a plague probably because I reminded him of her or he just plain hated me.

The tears I refused to let fall came rushing down as I looked around the house I spent my childhood in. No one loved me here, not my father or my stepmother and sister.
        
There was no dinner for me tonight or even tomorrow and it was my birthday today and no one remembered. What was i doing here anyway?. This life was toture, constantly hoping for but not getting anything.

I was always blamed for everything, always the guilty one. There was no place for me here I finally realised. Stella was going to take me to the servant quarters to add more bruises to the ones I was nurturing.

I was suddenly filled with determination to escape this life or hell I was in. With the last strength in me I pushed Stella away and ran outside the house. The guards at the gate tried to stop me but I was faster.

I ran through the street and somehow found my way to the highway. Realization dawned on me on what I had just done but I refused to back down now. It was death for me either way.

I looked down at my bare feet and pale white dress that was a size small, now stained with my blood. I looked back and saw the guards catching up to me. It was now or never. I ran in front of the first car I saw.