The Old Hag

I was wrong. Sister Rene was not boiling, she was scorching.

     The morning next day, A pint of freezing water woke me up of my sleep slumber. I did not need to open my eyes to know who was the culprit for I expected her retribution.

     She was standing over me with the same overly ironed habit that was a slur on her blanched skin and a bit oversized for her wildly slender body. It was unbecoming for her. As she stared down on me, the patches of freckles across her face highlighted her narrow slate-grey eyes, and it bore through me. She perfectly resembled the image of her I created before. A malnourished old hag.

     “Wake up,” She threw a piece of aged parchment on my soaked morning face, “Start your chores, and do not bother coming to breakfast. You need all the spare time you can get.”

     My hands were fast enough to save the paper from being immerse, but the moment I saw what was written on it, I regretted it. Not only my usual task had been double, but she also listed errands that were both needless and unsanitary.

     “Make sure to finish all of those today.” She noted, and she put a strong emphasis to today.

     She sure knew how to make someone’s morning, a bad one. I was sorely tempted to retaliate, to throw the dry paper on her face, and pull her hair out of their roots, or punch her pale face to render it with color, but instead, I just bit my lips to avoid another squabble with her. Or else, this long list would be even longer, “Good morning to you.” 

     The old hag did not even dare to greet me back as she fled my quarter with a satisfied smirk. She won this time alright. Sometimes, I wondered if my tricks were that harsh to make her hate me more than I hated her. Or she just hated everyone. 

     I was half sitted, still on my bed, and my hands were grasping the roots of my watery hair. The only part of me that were not bathe by Sister Rene were my thighs and below. I waited a few moments, to made sure that Sister Rene was nowhere the hall, before I groan out of frustration.

     And it seemed that the girls also expected her fiddling revenge, for the moment I released my exasperation, even though it was not loud enough to reach the opposite end of the sleeping quarter, they were instantly beside me. All of them still on their sleeping dress.

     Edith was still half asleep as she straightly went towards me, she knelt barefoot on my bed, in front of me. And then she started using a weaved cloth made out of yarn that she was bringing to parch my crown of hair.

     Hana then seized the list on my hand, and she too, was surprised as she saw my absurd new tasks, “This is ridiculous, she can’t do this to you. You can even finish your normal task and now you she doubled it.”

     I looked at her with awe, “Thank you, Hana, for the honesty.”

     “I am just kidding, silly. Don’t worry, me and the girls will help you. Right guys?”

     “Yes.” All of the girls chorused.

     I thanked them with a smiled. But knowing Sister Rene, she would not allow anyone to give me a hand to finish her petty vengeance. And besides, I would never drag them with my own problems, especially now that I was facing filthy chores.

     “Its fine guys, I will do it myself, and you have your own chores to finish, so don’t mind me.”

     Fatma then sat on the dry edge of the bed, facing me, she was holding both of my shoulder, “No, we insist. We can do ours faster then we will help you as soon as we finish. Right, Agnes?”

     All of our gaze turned to Agnes, who was crookedly standing at the rim of door as if she slept in a stubby box last night. She was fiddling her fingers and her face was dressed in remorse. I knew what was this about.

     She unhurriedly walked towards me, about to reduce to tears, “I am sorry, it was all my fault, if I lowered my voice last night none of this would have happened.”

     “Shut yourself.” I laughed, “Did you seriously think that I will blame you for this? I disrespected her and, yeah, I got what I deserve. This is not your fault you hear me.”

     She continued crying, “No, it was my fault...”

     I would not let her carry the blame for what I did, but instead of hugging to console her, being a fake hard hearted sister, I extended my arms, away from Edith, and swatted her crying face.

     “Ouch!” She groaned. She was startled, but she did stop her whimpering.

     Hana caressed her head, “Why did you do that?”

     “I said it was not your fault, if you keep insisting that it was, I will gladly hit you again.”

     She just nodded defeatedly, while everyone of us laughed, not Edith though, who was very busy braiding my hair while fighting her yawns.

     “Stop being a baby, and wipe your face please!” Without asking for it, Edith handed me the woven cloth she had used, and I threw it at Agnes. But she just tossed it back, “You used that one already. Give me a new one.”

     Before I could open the drawer of my bed side table to fetch a new fabric, the always thoughtful Hana was already wiping Agnes’ face with her laundered sleeve.

     And then I noticed that there were only five bodies crowding in my room, “Where is Abigail?” I asked them.

     All of them turned to me with a matching expression, and then I realized that I knew the answer myself. I imagined her cuddling her stuffed pillows while sinking on her poor battered bed, dreaming about a long table buffet.