The Fallen Queen (Winner of the Write Way Award 2013) #Wattys2015 #MyWattysChoice #Featured

Chapter 13: Cinderella

Let me know if you can read this chapter. There seems to be a problem with Wattpad and people can't see the chapters after Chapter 10.

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 "Your daughter is very attentive in class. She seems to be really interested in the Lord's words," several Sunday school teachers told my parents, referring to me.

"Oh...that's good," answered my mother in a very weary tone.

My father just kept silent. He never knew what to say.

I preferred my dad's silence because that way I could force myself to believe he was proud of me.

My mother, au contraire, clearly lacked enthusiasm. I thought she did not care if we believed in God or not, or if we were good students.

Yet ever since she accepted Jesus as her Savior, she became a perfect mother. She cooked dinner every day, she cleaned the house, she smiled more often, and she educated us within the pre-established religious framework.

Still, it seemed as if she was not a mother for us, but for herself. She did not do it out of love; she did it to be perfect like the other women in the church. She was already resentful towards herself for not wanting another child since the other women bore a child practically every year. The pastor said it was better to have a large family so that there were more people to believe in the All Mighty.

"Have faith in God, Sister Angie," said the reprimanding pastor. "The Scriptures say: 'The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.' If you put your faith in God, He will see that you will not miss anything. You will always have money for your family to live on."

"We are already living poorly," said my mother. "If we have another mouth to feed, I don't know how we will do it."

"There are families with eight or nine children in the church. Some of them are even living on welfare and they manage to live well—they have faith in God."

If there was one thing my mother hated it was to be compared to other families. She wanted to be equal on any level, or better.

"Do you know what you will be when you are a grown up?" my Mother asked Audrey one night during dinner.

"I'm going to help the disabled," answered my little sister solemnly.

"Me too!" I exclaimed. "But I'm gonna be a painter first. Then I'll buy a house for people with disabilities. Me and Audrey will make sure they're happy. There will be an indoor and an outdoor pool, and a forest with lots of trees with fruits they'll eat, and a theme park and—"

"No!" yelled my mother. "God does not want women to have jobs. You'll just be a wife to a nice gentleman in the church. You will have children and be housewives."

"But—" I started to say.

"There's no 'but.' You do what the church tells you to do. You don't wanna be bad girls now, do you?"

Audrey and I shook our heads.

"So, I'll teach you how to be good wives. From now on, you'll both clean up after each meal and Saturday will be a day we, as women, will spend cleaning the house," decided my mother.

Audrey and I were not against the idea of learning to be good mothers if that was what was expected of us, if that was what was needed to be good girls. We both wanted to go to heaven.

Thus, we completed each chore with zeal although we suspected the real reason behind it was not to make us good wives but rather to have the house totally clean for Sunday, the day of fraternity. She wanted to show off her own perfection and needed our help to make the house sparkling clean. She could not do everything herself.