Chapter 2

"Get your ass over here right now, Amelia!" Mrs. Andrews, Amelia's stepmother, yelled. Amelia, who was diligently washing dishes in the small wooden kitchen, hurried as fast as her legs could carry her to the living room.

Mrs Andrews was seated on the sofa, clutching a glass of orange juice and a plate of snacks while engrossed in the television. Her daughter, Leah, sat beside her, rolling her eyes disdainfully at Amelia's approaching figure.

"Will you walk faster? Just take a look at how sluggish and slow she is," Leah rolled her eyes as she stared disgustingly at Amelia who was walking faster to the sitting room.

Amelia had been orphaned when her mother passed away, an unforgettable event that would forever linger in her memory—her eighth birthday.

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FLASHBACK

The Andrews' residence was adorned with vibrant flowers and colourful lights. The living room exuded a festive ambience. The table showcased a beautifully decorated vanilla cake, proudly written, 

“Amelia is eight today.”

Little Amelia had just finished getting ready for her birthday celebration, her heart yearning for her favourite treat, ice cream. She dashed toward her mother, who was busy preparing food for the occasion in the kitchen.

"Mom," Amelia called out confidently, capturing her mother's attention as she turned around to admire her daughter's beauty.

"Oh, wow! Aunty Eunice did an amazing job making you look so pretty," her mother exclaimed, crouching down to Amelia's level.

"Mom?" Amelia called, seeking her mother's undivided attention.

“Yes, my lovely angel," her mother responded.

"I need strawberry ice cream. Can you get it for me?" Amelia pouted, and her mother lovingly cupped her cheeks.

"I will get it for you, but the rain doesn't seem to be stopping anytime soon. As soon as it clears up, I'll bring you several cones of ice cream," her mother explained, hoping to satisfy Amelia's craving. However, Amelia shook her head adamantly.

"I want it now, Mom. Please, get me strawberry ice cream," Amelia insisted, causing her mother to sigh. If she didn't agree, Amelia would persist until she got her way.

"Okay, fine. I'll go get it for you," her mother relented, turning off the gas and removing her apron before heading out of the kitchen with Amelia. She retrieved her purse and umbrella from her room.

From then till the present, Amelia never met her mother again. Oh! How she wished she hadn't pushed her mother to get her ice cream. Maybe, just maybe, her mother would still be alive today.

 END OF FLASHBACK

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Amelia entered the sitting room and lowered her head. 

"You called me, Mom," she said softly. Mrs Andrew stood up abruptly and delivered a deafening slap across Amelia's cheek. The pain was so intense that tears welled up in her eyes instantly.

"Who the hell do you think you are calling me 'mom'? You killed your mother, remember?" Mrs. Andrew never missed an opportunity to remind Amelia of her alleged role in her mother's death. For the past fourteen years, Amelia had carried the burden of guilt, blaming herself for the tragic incident.

Every year on her birthday, Amelia was reminded of the terrible consequences that followed her innocent craving for ice cream.

She whispered, 

"I'm sorry, ma," as her voice trembled. Her stepmother and stepsister had never treated her with kindness. But then again, Amelia couldn't expect much from a household where her father consistently sided with her stepmother, holding Amelia responsible for her mother's untimely death.

Amelia's body was covered in a patchwork of bruises, both fresh and old wounds. She yearned to escape the torment of her home, yet she had nowhere to run to even if she tried. The guilt she carried, the guilt that consumed her, stemmed from the belief that she caused her mother's death. Her father and stepmother only intensified her anguish.

"I want spaghetti and meatballs. Prepare it for me," Mrs Andrew commanded before settling back into her seat. Leah, her stepsister, turned her attention to Amelia with a devilish smile and added, 

“I want broccoli and salad. You have fifteen minutes, or there will be consequences. You will be as good as dead," Leah said and shifted her focus to the television, treating Amelia as if she were a mere robot.

Amelia had been ten years old when her father married her stepmother. Based on their age difference, Leah must now be around nineteen. The surge of anger that engulfed Amelia was immeasurable. She felt utterly helpless, unable to fight back. But what could she do? The answer was nothing.

Preparing two meals simultaneously seemed an impossible task. Amelia was not superhuman with the ability to multitask. After all, she was just a girl with two hands.

Amelia slowly made her way back to the kitchen, knowing that she needed to prepare the food quickly before she became a punching bag, as usual. With determination, she managed to prepare the meal within the given time range. A surge of excitement washed over her because, for once, she wouldn't face punishment for taking too long.

Carefully, Amelia served the meals on the dining table. She was aware that Leah despised any form of dirt; she had a reputation for being a clean freak. Mother and daughter took their respective seats and began to eat. Just as Leah was about to take a bite, she noticed a single drop of spaghetti on the table. 

Instantly, her expression changed, and anger boiled within her.

Most people wouldn't get angry at the sight of a small food spill, but Leah was different. Even a single grain of rice could turn the house into a fiery furnace. Amelia's legs trembled where she stood, peeping. She knew she was at the mercy of her wicked stepmother and stepsister.

"Amelia!" Leah screamed, and in response, Amelia dashed to the dining room as fast as her legs could carry her.

"What the hell is this?" Leah shouted, her hard gaze piercing into Amelia, who stood speechless. Amelia's lips trembled, desperately searching for the right words to say, but nothing came out.

Suddenly, a voice rang out, a voice Amelia had never wished to hear in her entire life. 

"What is going on here?"