Sweet revenge

Many gifts

"This is a reoccuring dream of mine" I said as I was reminiscing to Cindy "but I wouldn't call it a nightmare. This stain, the daughter of a perceived whore is more capable than any of her wretched siblings". A chuckle escapes my lips even though I tried to suppress it earning me a concerned look from my gift. Special gift.
"Now, now Cindy darling don't look at me with such eyes it breaks my heart". I tease.
Remembering her position triggered her training and disgust transformed into a smile.
The fun was over after she regained her composure, so I left in such rapidity that my next appointment was never confirmed. But it doesn't matter because the visits never end. She is well paid after all; being a gift from my grandmother. "From me to you", she said. That damn foggy doesn't know when to die. The thought of her burns my throat like consecutive shots of warm gin. I breathe in the air that surrounds me enjoying  the usual scent of pollution and the riveting pleasure of cold air as it castrates the inner lining of my throat. I let go the air I was holding and release its polluted content in a polluted society. The epitome known as Great Britain, the beginning of pollution some say.
The clouds that surrounded me disappeared only to appear again after each breathe. I keep walking and at each accidental bump an apology escapes my lips. Some give me irritated stares while others wag their hands in acceptance. Of course none of this is sincere. They say it to be correct. In english they call it "manners" something I understand to an extent. My feet begin to ache and the cold begins to freeze the blood in my toes making it numb. The door is right up ahead, color amidst grey and I keep walking . The mile long walk is taxing but then I'm there, before that red door.
When I enter, the atmosphere lacks the presence of a human being, better yet humanity. I make my way to my lodging down the stairs in the basement where I share a room with a colony of rats. It's a place for dogs really or bastards in this case but as I descend the stairs I run into my hero. He flinches away, and his face distorts. So I slipped into my proper breeding and became so mannerable that I even scared myself. The muscles in my face distorted, as his own, and rose up in such an unnatural fashion. The smile was beautiful on its own but the words that followed were simply a lie. "Good Morning, father"
"Go to bed child, or get out of the way. You block traffic".
I could smell the drunkard on his breathe. His slur was funny and his movement erratic. So I moved and watched the drunk clear the invisible traffic with royal authority.
As I touched the comfort of my mattress I fall into a deep sleep and dreamt of beautiful things. As if the dream were real I could hear the church bell ring of coins as it flooded my pool.
I awoke at a sudden downpour of cold liquid and hail. I see the face of the helps whose only job was to devise cruel ways to make my hell a worse one, a job she achieves with ice. Irony is yet again the death of all schemes and each day she bombards me with mediocrity often found on kindergarten playgrounds. The poor woman-child tries so hard I can only oblige and at thirty with such behavior one can only guess a case of Benjamin Button. To lower oneself to such incredulous actions to feed one's child is simply admirable. In fact, It brings me to tears.
"Get up ya'lazy ingrate! The madam request that ya' clean the toilets".
"She is of that age I suppose? When cleaning herself is virtually impossible ". I respond with a smirk that sends her into an amusing fit of rage and slowly make my way upstairs. The time is always early morning. Five o'clock. It's become such a routine that I can get up on my own but pity bids me to keep them shut. I do what I'm told and I clean the toilets. I finish in an hour and wake the siblings, the ones I like. These are the ones I have raised since there birth and have continued to raise. The milk they drank was from my breast so to speak.
I walk towards the room of my younger half brothers and the heirs to the fortune of this family. With a slight knock I enter the room to find my two brothers Julianne and Tobias. Although they are not the same age they have been inseparable for as long as I can remember and insisted on sharing the same room. I watch as they stir in their sleep and mumble. It still surprises me how they can sleep so peaceful knowing that I am the one who will wake them. A devilish smile spreads across my face as my two hands connect with both of their faces. The sound reminds me of fireworks. They both jump out of their sleeps with saddled and confused looks that are etched in pain.
"Mel, why must you wake us this way every morning", says the the oldest Tobias who is now sixteen years old as he caresses the hurt on his left cheek.
    "Exactly, your cruelty never fails to surprise me" echoes the younger Julianne of two years.
"Your constant whining is what surprises me".
"Five more minute" they both whine simultaneously
I walked over to the two again and place kisses on each their cheeks, they both smile at me.
"Come on, I'll make waffles, and eggs for breakfast."
I exit the room and start for the youngest room. I enter her room and nudge her slightly until she wakes. Drool drips from her lips and her long blonde hair is wet with her saliva. She peeks open one eye and when she sees it's me she throws her arms around me with her tiny legs.
"Good morning Melly", She says.
"Good morning Nelly, now come on and go brush those teeth or my eyes will continue to water".
She laughs a joyful laugh and rushes to the bathroom.
I headed downstairs to prepare breakfast which is finished by 7:00 am. By eight they are all dressed and ready for breakfast. The rest make their way down at this time: Serena the oldest, then Mary, dear grandmother, my hero, and step mother. In this specific order every morning; like clockwork. First Serena complains:
"This food is not fit for the standard this family upholds, well not like I expected anything better from a bastard child". I make no comment.
Then Mary whines "This is going to make me fat, now he will never notice me. You did this on purpose, didn't you? Are you trying to take him away from me? Huh! Keep dreaming, he would never go for low class meat". No comment
Dear grandmother degrades "How foolish! Don't worry Mary darling, the daughter of a low brand whore can never reach success. Like mother like daughter, rodents to society". She throws a fit and her wrinkles jerk. Yet I remain the same. No comment. The whining continues and I have no choice but to purposely tune out the stupidity.
Hero remains silent and prefers not to waste his precious words of wisdom for the disappointment and step-mother simply eats. No derision just indifference. I get up so that the chair grates the floor, kiss my children on the cheek and get ready for another day of consistency.