The Sterling Brothers’ Lost Sister

I suddenly woke up when a cold splash hit my face. For a moment I was unable to breathe. Then my mother’s voice pierced the haze in my mind like a knife.

“Get up and go make breakfast now!”

Water trickled through my hair wetting my pillow. My heart pounded painfully. I made myself sit up. By now I had grown accustomed to it, accustomed to my mother’s rage, her resentment, her animosity that had intensified ever since Lila was born.

From that moment I somehow turned into the burden.

She frequently told me that she discovered me in an alley. Yet the tone she used this time suggesting I was rubbish, she wished she hadn’t taken me in made it difficult to trust that she had ever cared for me. At that time she had no children, was desperate, and claimed I was a miracle. However, miracles don’t appear to endure in households.

Flashback

I recall the tale distinctly. She shared it with me back when I was young. She still acted as if I were important.

Mrs. Marian, my mom, was heading home from her job when two men attempted to grab her purse. They struggled and upon noticing they had knives in their grasp, her instincts kicked in. She fled.

She dashed along a lane, her heart racing, and slipped into a deserted alley to conceal herself. She leaned against the wall struggling to breathe murmuring prayers quietly, anything to stay alive.

At that moment she caught the sound.

The soft fragile cry of a baby.

Initially, she believed fear was causing her to imagine things. The noise returned soft, urgent. She tracked it down. Discovered a small cradle hidden behind an aged metal container. She moved carefully bewildered.

What could an infant be doing alone in a back street after dark?

Upon seeing me, small and swaddled in a cloth gazing up with large eyes, she began crying. She had been without children for years and then she thought I was the miracle she had been hoping for. Without pause she lifted me. Held me close, to her heart.

“I will look after you " she murmured at that moment.

The flashback concludes.

The door to my room groaned as it swung open. Lila marched in flaunting the silly grin she wore as if it were a crown, her flawless brown curls. The scent of her pricey perfume drifted through the air bought with my parents’ money, the very money I was always forbidden from using.

I softly inquired, "What would you like for breakfast?”

She avoided my gaze. ". Potatoes."

“Go do that!" Mom’s voice thundered more from the sitting room.

I held my anger inside. Left my small confined room. My legs were trembling, so I forced myself to move toward the kitchen. When I walked by Lila she bent down. Murmured:

“Slave girl.”

My chest constricted, and I acted as if I didn’t notice. Feigning had turned into my way of coping.

Upon entering the kitchen I saw my dad seated at the table browsing on his phone. He glanced up. Offered me a slight nod, his way of showing care. He wasn’t unkind to me. He never stood up for me either. His quietness was more painful than anything my mother said.

I began making breakfast, swiftly slicing potatoes disregarding the pain in my tender fingers. My thoughts wandered, returning to the insults my mother had hurled at me throughout the years. Her voice reverberated in my mind like a mantra.

“You are a good-for-nothing kid.”

“You aren’t worthy of anything ”

“I wish I hadn’t taken you from that alley.”

“You ought to have been abandoned to perish.”

My hands trembled. Without noticing the plate fell from my grip hitting the floor with a noise and breaking into fragments.

That was sufficient to make her lose it.

She burst into the kitchen, her eyes burning with fury. Instantly she struck me once then once more. Forcefully. The impact jerked my head sideways. A sharp pain pierced my cheeks. My hands bled from the fragments yet she was indifferent.

Tears streamed down before I had a chance to hold them back. I just dashed to my room, shut the door hard, and collapsed onto the floor.

My chest ached. My throat constricted. I felt tiny, unwanted, and agonizingly isolated. I could only squeeze the tiny jade pendant on my neck that reminded me of my real family. I've had it since birth.

The door creaked open after minutes and I didn’t have to glance up to recognize who it was.

“You’re aware that Mother despises you " Lila remarked, her tone filled with glee. "She really dislikes you. Why pretend to be the perfect daughter? You don’t belong here. You’re merely a nuisance.”

She moved nearer, softening her tone.

“Why don’t you simply. Get out of our lives?”

My lips parted, No sound emerged. I was aware they disliked me. Hearing it stated so plainly, so icily shattered something within me.

Lila strode away leaving the trace of her fragrance and harshness, in her wake.

I dabbed away my tears. Remained seated, on the floor until my breathing calmed down. I never attended an institution after finishing high school. Despite being the valedictorian they denied me assistance to continue my studies. At twenty-two I had low education, no backing, and no independence.

All I possessed were my books. I aspire to become a neurosurgeon. An ambition that shone like a beacon, in a world shrouded in darkness.

That night I heard a tapping.

“Zara? It’s Maya." Her voice floated softly from behind the door.

I unlocked the door. She came inside carrying a small meal packet. "You resemble a ghost " she murmured gently. "Why are your eyes so bloodshot? Was it your mother or that wicked sister?”

“What do you think?" I answered faintly.

She encircled me with her arms then extended the food. "You haven’t eaten, right? I suspected much.”

I exhaled. "Thanks. I can handle it.”

“Well," she exclaimed abruptly, her eyes gleaming "I have something that could brighten your mood. There’s a party happening tonight at Crimson Lounge. I know it’ll be your first party but why not try to relax for a change?”

“Maya, if I get caught they will kill me " I admitted sincerely.

“Relax. Our parents know each other well. I’ll simply say you have to assist me with something around the house. I even packed a dress that highlights your incredible curves.”

Despite everything a slight grin curled on my lips. Maya had been my closest friend since the age of five. She consistently managed to bring a smile to my face even when my life was unraveling.

My eyes fixed on the dress she reached into her bag for: brief, snug, stunning.

I was twenty-two years old. My existence felt like a prison.. For once… perhaps I earned a single night of liberty.

“Okay,” I whispered. “I’ll go.”