When will it stop?

Ch.1

I am alone, my real father is dead. He died trying to save my ungrateful country, I tried to stop him but, he wouldn't stop. Now I have no one, no home, and no family to care and no love to spare. My life is ruined by a Mother who cheats and my sisters who hates. I live in fear of their wrath. They should care about the last sister who could die at any moment shouldn't they. Father always said" A proper Lady is one that cares and is docile to the male, although some men do like the feisty ones too." They don't listen, I try to reason, even though my conditions are horrible but, I can never get through. They are thick to the brain no respect or love what so ever for a sister who cares. My supposed birth "mother" is another, issue she loves my older siblings no matter the consequence, and blames their faults on me the only one who actually cares about her. My sisters, Ersela and Cruella want nothing more than a maid and now I am one, when they want a punching bag, there I am. When they need anything automatically, I am the substitute for all their needs. No one cares about me and no one see the harm done, they all turn the cold eye and shut their mouths gossiping about all the lies the family has spread to tarnish my name.

My mother is the really cheater who remarried a rich gentlemen, Michael, who already has a daughter right, better yet she did it right after father's death. Mother showers this other women's daughter in adoration, as do my sister; as they treat the real youngest one, with malice and hatred. My mother, Carol would rather shine the new girl in Jewels and praise instead of giving me even a smudge of her attention.

When I first met the man, she was to marry, she said I was a maid or better yet in her words her family slave who ran away from home and came to her doorsteps. She told him how I begged for some lodging and how her former husband, my Father took pity on me and brought me in. She said I had a debt to pay her back for the gift she gave me and how I promised to repay the family. It bothered me, I didn't know what she was saying, nor what maid or slave meant back then, but I thought she was talking about how I was her princess, as a 6 year old it was my dream; to live in a castle, like Cinderella, Aurora, Rapunzel and Snow White, I wished for a day, a prince charming would show up to save the day.

Over the years, I have learned and grown up a lot, I know a slave is a servant, and that my sisters, know I am not a maid, but they play along with the facade and call me their nicknames like, f***erella, sl*t and sh*t, to make me know my place. Even though, they use to be the kindest people in the world, as children I remember we'd play with dolls, create cakes, make designs, play house, play video games, watch movies and be the best of friends. But, I bet now, they were faking it until dad died, because once he was gone all of them turned on me. I would scream and cry every time they hit me, it pained me every time they called me nicknames, it stabbed my little heart daily. I was only 5, I thought they were mad and grew apart to comfort the grief. I thought, I was the problem and shut myself up to help repair the damage my father left behind.

That was when, it got worse, Carol found out about their reliever sessions, and my bruises as well as scars. Carol soon joined in, making me do chores all the time, after one of their beatings; it didn't matter if I was sick, broke a bone or 2, or even fractured any of my body parts, she just didn't care.  When Carol married a new man and joined this household, the man's daughter, Lucinda, took a liking to me and not my sisters, which only made it worse. My mom started cutting me and I had to stitch myself up to keep it hidden. I would always be forced to keep working even if the cut was life threatening or even broken open gushing blood on the ground. Their tactics just became more gruesome, they knew people would find out if it was on my face, so they started doing it around my body. Sometime even stripping my clothes off and putting me on a table to cut, like they did in rituals. They started playing with the idea to bring me to the brink of death, but not enough to kill me. daily, every second of the day, I would spend wishing to die or waiting to be 18.

No one noticed or none of the maids cared but, Lucinda knew she probably stood idly by, for my sake of living. She always inspired hope in me to keep living and keep moving on. She said she would help once I got there, once I was 18 and, could escape. Which is why, I hope turning 18 will change things for the better because if it doesn't and Carol still has custody over me, who knows what will happen. I hope it stops or at this rate I might just try suicide.