Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
The dirty laundry had been dumped on my bed—the single mattress that lay on the concrete floor. There were soiled towels, bloodstained panties from either my stepmother’s period or her daughter’s, along with other gross things that had spilled over onto the worn rug that only partially covered the concrete floor.
Taking a deep breath, I finally moved from the doorway and walked over to it so I could begin to sort them into the correct piles. My dad had always believed in having chores. He had said it taught you to respect your things and instilled a good work ethic. However, now that he was gone, I was the only one doing chores. I was the maid, the cook, their own personal Cinderella.
There had been other changes since my father’s death. My bedroom had been upstairs, looking out over the front yard. Sissy, the sister my father had surprised me with after our arrival to Ocala, had always complained that I had a bigger room. It was a very small difference, but she had pouted about it since she’d moved in after the wedding that I wished had never happened.
Dad had hoped that my having an older sister would help heal the pain of all I’d lost. At least, that was what he’d told me when he explained that she was my actual sister.
Before my parents had met, he had gotten a girl pregnant in college. She told him after a bad breakup, and then she said she aborted the baby.
Six months after my mom’s death, he received a message on Facebook from Abilene, the girlfriend from college, telling him he had a daughter. She had never gone through with the abortion, but he’d moved on by the time she was ready to admit to him she was keeping the baby. So, she had chosen not to tell him, but their daughter had been asking about him a lot lately. That was why he sold our home, packed us up, and moved us to this awful place.
Sissy came for visits at first. She’d stay the weekend. Dad then began inviting her mother.
It had gone from that to an engagement and now this. Me living in a home where I wasn’t wanted.
I heard the footsteps overhead as the doorbell rang. There would be a lot of that this afternoon. It was Sissy’s sixteenth birthday, and all her friends were coming over to get dressed with her. Abilene had rented out a popular restaurant in town for the party. I’d heard them talking about it for weeks. Not once had they mentioned my going. I didn’t want to anyway.
I enjoyed the evenings when they left me here alone. It was the only time I felt any peace in this place.
The door to my bedroom swung open, and I turned to see Sissy walking in, her eyes locked on the laundry I hadn’t washed yet.
“Please tell me you washed my pink Victoria’s Secret bra with the little hearts on it,” she whined.
“I just got home. I’m sorting things now,” I replied.
“God, Lib, can you not be so slow? It’s my birthday—not that you care. You’ve not told me happy birthday or given me anything.”
I wanted to laugh. What was I supposed to give her? She’d taken my bedroom, along with the white furniture that my mother and I had picked out on my sixth birthday together. It was the last birthday that I’d had with my mom. She had taken the television that my dad had bought me when we moved into this house. I had nothing left to give her.
“Happy birthday,” I told her, realizing I hadn’t spoken to her today.
She was my sister. It wasn’t her fault that her mother hated my existence. Sissy didn’t hate me—at least I didn’t think she did. She just wasn’t nice.
She beamed a bright smile at me. Sissy was beautiful. Her blonde hair was the same color as Dad’s, but the rest of her looked like Abilene. I was envious of her blue eyes and tall, willowy frame.
“Thank you, Lib. Now, if you could hurry with that laundry. Get mine done first, would ya?” she said.
The doorbell rang again.
“That’s Hilly,” she said, turning to hurry back out the door and up the stairs.
A loud scream startled me, and the clothes I had picked up fell to the floor. I took off running for the stairs.
What had happened? Was everything okay? My mind raced with terrible scenarios.
Then, I heard my sister’s squeal. “OH MY GOD!!! MOM! You got me a car!”
I stopped and stared up the dark stairwell. She’d gotten a car for her birthday. If Abilene couldn’t afford to buy me new uniforms for school, how could she afford a car for Sissy’s birthday?
Sighing, I closed the door and turned to go back to get Sissy’s underthings. There was no point in caring. I needed to be happy that Abilene had kept me after my father’s death. Like she had told me many times, I could be in a foster home.