Revenge of the Discarded Daughter

The sound of a shrill voice wakes me. “Ruby, wake your ass up!” her mother shrieks like a banshee. And just like a banshee her screaming is a bad omen “Ruby, out of bed, NOW!” I jump out of my bed, knowing better than to keep her waiting. I follow her voice to the grand living room. She stands in the middle of the room with her arms crossed and huffs with impatience. “Yes ma'am?” I say trying to keep anything negative from entering my tone. “You know better than to sleep in on a Sunday, we are expecting guests for dinner tonight and the house is still a mess. You should be ashamed of yourself”.

Sleeping in? According to my mother, not waking at the crack of dawn is me sleeping in. Miracle and Joshua can sleep till 11:30 on the weekends but me? I have to be up at 5:30, earlier than the servants in the house. “Miracle even put away dishes last night. Just because she felt bad for you” her mother said it as though Miracle was Jesus Christ himself being crucified for her sins.

Reality? Miracle unloaded the dishwasher and put the dishes away half haphazardly, which led to me having to put them away properly after being chewed out by my mother and father for doing it incorrectly. And further berated when it was found out that I “let” their precious daughter do an ounce of “labor”. Not to mention the beating she got when the dishwasher flooded soap on the kitchen floor. Because their princess put liquid dish soap instead of dishwasher pods in a poorly filled dishwasher. Apparently it was her fault their princess failed to mention that she also attempted to reload the dishwasher.

The bruises from last night still ached across my body. “You need to clean the floors, the bathrooms, and the kitchen” my mother demanded. “Yes ma'am” I replied, there was no use arguing that we have servants for a reason. “MOTHER!” an excited voice shouts down the stairs as light footsteps descend down. Miracle. The epitome of a golden child. Beautiful, spoiled, arrogance dressed up as confidence. She’d have anyone outside this household believe she was a kind and caring individual. But the truth? Miracles a vindictive bully.

She tormented me as soon as she could walk and talk. But I have been tormented because of her since she was born. No. Since my mother found out she was pregnant. And that the baby was a girl. My mother, Shelia Rowan, had always wanted a girl. When she got pregnant the first time, she was disappointed to find out it was a boy. That boy was my older brother Joushua. Since then she tried to get pregnant again with a daughter. But each time she got pregnant she would have a miscarriage. It was an endless cycle of tragedy.

For six happy and love filled months I was their princess. But then Sheila got pregnant again. And this time the baby was here to stay. When it announced I was ecstatic. I told my preschool friends and my teachers, hell, I even told random people that I was going to be a big sister. I wore my new label of big sister like a badge of honor. I never even considered that things would change. I overheard my mom call my sister her rainbow baby. I didn’t know until I was older what that meant. But basically my sister was a miracle child.

I remember her gender reveal. It was grand and expensive. You would have thought we were hosting royalty. When that balloon popped, pink exploded and my mother burst into happy tears. I was happy too, for her, for my father and for myself. But after the party, they slowly drifted away from me. Mother was cold. Father was agitated by my presence. My brother was smug. It was like I ceased existing in their eyes. And when they remembered me? It was only to do chores and to use me to vent their anger and frustration. It was only with their words. But to me it felt like knives stabbing into my heart.

After Miracle was born they decided she needed the bigger room. So I was moved to a much smaller one. It didn’t make sense to me. She couldn’t even walk yet, but I didn’t complain. I was a big sister now and I needed to put Miracle first. I remember Jousha telling me that mom wanted to see me. I went to her room and I opened the door. When I did I immediately heard crying. I went to baby Miracles crib and tried to comfort her. My mother rushed in and shoved me out of the way. And in a harsh voice she told me “You horrible girl, how dare you wake my daughter”. And then for the first but most certainly not the last time she hit me.