12!Standing in my own power

Sylvia 

I stood outside the house, staring up at it. My father's house.

My house.

Everything looked the same, the tall gates, the wide driveway, the big windows that always made the house feel open but cold. I had some wonderful memories in this. But now, it feels different. Not because the house had changed, but because the people inside it had.

Maryann and Emily.

They lived here now, like queens ruling over something they didn’t build. Such shameless women.

Earlier today, Maryann had tried to stop me from moving in.

“Make sure you move back in by tomorrow,” she said. “We won’t be around today.”

I looked her dead in the eye. “I don’t need you guys to be around before I move back into the house my father built.”

Her lips tightened. “Sylvia, move in tomorrow. I won’t say this again.”

“Even if you say it a hundred times,” I snapped, “I couldn’t listen to you.”

That ended the conversation. Or so I thought. I am so sure they don't have anywhere to be, but just to prove a point they asked me to move back in tomorrow.

I rolled my suitcase to the front door and let myself in with my key.

The house was quiet, almost too quiet. The faint scent of expensive candles lingered in the air, and I could already hear the soft footsteps of maids going about their duties. One passed by me carrying fresh linens. She gave me a polite nod, her face unreadable. Another walked up to me, nodded politely and collected my bags from me. These were new staff, it seems the old ones were changed. Most of the decor had changed.

I made my way to the staircase. My shoes echoed on the polished floor as I climbed. I could feel the coldness of the air, not from the weather, but from the tension that still lingered between these walls.

As I entered the room I used to stay in, I saw that it had been stripped of almost everything. My books were gone. The photos I had left on the shelf? Vanished. The sheets had been replaced with something cold and plain. Almost like someone wanted to erase me from the house altogether.

I didn’t need a sign to know who had done it. Most times I wish she could display her evil more discreetly.

I opened my suitcase, placed it on the bed, and started unpacking. I had barely finished folding my clothes into the drawers when I heard the front door open downstairs.

Voices followed.

Laughter.

Maryann. Emily.

They weren’t supposed to be here.

I froze, listening.

"Get the bags, Emily!" Maryann shouted.

"I’m not carrying all that, I told you!" Emily’s voice was annoyed. “We have plenty of maids to do that. You get those bags in the car and have the driver move the car to the garage,” she said, pointing to a maid.

Moments later, two uniformed maids entered behind them, each carrying designer bags and shopping totes from high-end stores. Emily barely glanced at them as they passed.

“Why did you clear out my stuff?” I yelled down the stairs, stepping out into the hallway.

They both looked up at me like they had seen a ghost.

“Well, look who didn’t listen,” Maryann said, fake-smiling. “Couldn’t even wait a day.”

“I told you,” I replied calmly, “this house belongs to my father. You don’t get to decide when I move in.”

“You’re really testing me, Sylvia,” she said, walking up the stairs without breaking eye contact. A maid followed closely behind her, holding her purse and a fur coat. “You think showing up early makes you strong?”

“No. But standing up to you does.”

Emily snorted. A maid handed her a glass of fresh juice before she spoke. “You’re so dramatic. It’s just a house. Some people have extremely more than this.”

I turned to her. “No, it’s not just a house. It’s the house my father built. The house he paid for. The house you’re pretending belongs to you. If you admire those people you could as well go live with them, isn't that what you folks like?”

Maryann walked past me, brushing my shoulder on purpose. “Well, we live here now, sweetheart. And we’re not going anywhere. So you’d better get comfortable, or better yet, uncomfortable.”

“I asked a question earlier, why did you clear my stuff?”

“Because I felt like this house needed a little retouch.” Her smile was devilish.

“This isn't your house!” I yelled.

“You see honey, that's the difference, you keep saying this isn't my house, but I have total control of it.”

“That's what you call power and authority,” Emily chipped in.

“Well you can have power and authority over this house but in the document you would never have it.”

“Ha ha ha, time will tell honey, this is only the beginning.”

I scoffed. “Really?”

“Yes sweetie, really. I will take everything little by little, but by but, crumbs by crumbs until there is nothing left for you. Do you know what the most funny thing is?”

“What,” I asked, looking at her speechlessly, wondering how a human being can be this evil.

“I would take everything right under your nose, you would watch me, but you won't be able to do anything.” She smiled as she opened the door to the master bedroom, my father’s room.

My stomach turned, unable to say anything.

She had moved into his room.

“Don’t touch his things,” I warned.

Maryann turned slowly. “What things? This room was cleaned out months ago. You should’ve come back sooner if you were so concerned.” She snapped her fingers, and a maid walked in, immediately placing her new shoes in the wardrobe.

I walked away before I said something I’d regret.

Down the hallway, I heard Emily’s voice calling after me.

“Oh, and Sylvia?” she said, leaning against the wall, a maid fluffing her hair behind her. “If you leave your food in the fridge, don’t expect it to be there in the morning. We’re not running a hotel.”

I stopped. Took a breath. Then turned to face them both.

“You want me to leave? Not going to happen. You want to scare me off? Try harder.”

Maryann raised an eyebrow. “We don’t have to try hard. You’ll break eventually. You don’t belong here.”

I smiled, calm, sharp. “Then stop talking so much and wait for it.”

And with that, I closed my door.

But inside, I could feel the fire rising in my chest. I had walked into their trap, and I knew it. They never meant to be gone. They wanted me to move in while they were here so they could push, twist, and press until I cracked. 

The only reason I moved back into this house was because of Dad and now I'm starting to doubt if this is what he truly wanted. He knew what Maryanne and Emily were like and still wanted me to move in with them. This must be a setup

They wanted to make me crack but they had no real power. Just noise.

But I had something they didn’t.

My father’s name.

My father’s blood.

And this house, no matter what they tried, would always be mine.

Let them try to make it a living hell.

I’d show them what it means to survive in fire.