I keep my arms crossed.
“Get out of the fucking car,” my mother snaps. “You’re embarrassing me.”
I can barely keep the tears at bay, even though I haven’t stopped crying. “Take me back. Please.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snarls. “Get out of the damn car now, or I will press fucking charges against them, Anastasia.”
Slowly, I untangle my arms.
And I get out of the car. A man stands there, tall and thin with a hooked nose. He doesn’t smile. And neither does his daughter.
She’s beautiful. Tall, like her father, with flowing blonde hair and lovely deep blue eyes in her blue floral dress. But her plump lips are pursed in clear displeasure, her gaze icy as it rakes across me.
“I thought you said she was pretty?”
It takes a minute for her words to filter through the pain inside my head. Inside my heart.
I blink, as my mother laughs, a tinkling sound. The girl’s father says nothing.
“Oh, Ella,” my mother says finally. “I don’t remember saying that!”
And I turn to look at her.
That’s it?
Ella sniffs, turning her back on me as she walks into the house. The man – Martin, as my mother introduces him – gives me a cool nod.
“I hope you behave yourself in my house,” he says quietly. “I won’t have any trouble. This is Ella’s home.”
My nod is slow.
I miss William.
I miss them.
***
I can’t hear anything over the screaming.
My mother sobs, the back of her hand pressed against her mouth as she lays back on the couch. “How will we live? He’s ruined us! Selfish, selfish man.”
The two officers glance at each other. A radio crackles. “We’re very sorry for your loss, ma’am.”
***
Ella won’t stop screaming. I shake her shoulders. “Ella!”
She doesn’t respond. So I take a breath, and I slap her.
She silences immediately.
“I’m sorry,” I rush out, the guilt filling me. “I’m so sorry. They say to do that – I read it somewhere. Can I get you anything, Ella?”
She sniffs. “Coffee.”
I try to smile. “Okay. Whatever you need.”
***
“Where the hell is it?”
My mother rounds on me. I’m on my knees, cleaning the kitchen floor. “What?”
“Don’t you fucking lie to me, you little thief,” my mother snarls. “The ring! What have you done with it?”
My heart pounds, but I keep my eyes steady on hers. “I haven’t seen it.”
“Liar,” she hisses. “We need that damn ring, Anastasia. We have no money left!”
Ella sits at the table, sipping from the cup of coffee I’ve just made her. “She’s a little liar, Angelica. I’d beat it out of her, personally.”
“Don’t tempt me.” My mother throws herself into a chair. “When you’ve finished with that, Anastasia, my bathroom needs to be cleaned.”
“Mine too,” Ella cuts in, her lips curling up. “We all need to play our part without the staff here, after all.”
I open my mouth, and then close it again.
“Fine.”
And when I leave the room, I slide my hand down to check.
It’s there.
Safe from them.
And soon, I’ll be away from them. My college application was posted yesterday. I’ll apply for every grant under the sun, but I’m going.
***
“Mother?”
I say the words softly. But Angelica cries out, her body painfully thin as she writhes on the bed. My heart in my throat, I wipe her down again before I pull the blankets over her, trying to shield her from the cold.
Ella leans against the door.
“We need more painkillers,” I say to her over the sound of my mother’s cries. “Can you go and get some? Please?”
“I’m busy.” She stares at my mother, her lip curling in distaste. “I have a date.”
Good. If she’s eating, that means more food for mother. I can’t stretch our money anymore, the bare minimum left barely enough for one person to survive, let alone three.
And I really thought that I could go to college.
“Fine. I’ll go.”
“Before you do, I need you to fix my dress.”
When I stare at her, she shrugs. “It’s either that, or I can’t go.”
I grit my teeth. “Fine.”
***
I stare at Ella. “What do you mean, you sold my bed? What the fuck, Ella?”
I just want to sleep. I’m so fucking tired.
And my mother is so weak. The doctor told me she needs to be in hospice care.
But we can’t afford that.
Ella sniffs, waving the notes in the air. “It means we get to survive another week. They came to collect it earlier. I can’t fucking live like this for much longer. It smells like death in here.”
I flinch. “Shut up.”
She only rolls her eyes. “You’ll be more comfortable in the kitchen anyway. It’s warmer in there. And then when Angelica goes, you can have her bed. So don’t be so dramatic about it.”
I should be used to it by now. But the sheer coldness of her words still manage to shock me. “Do you have any empathy at all?”
Her lip curls. “Not for you.”
No. She keeps it all for herself.
***
“Give it to me!”
The belt bites into my back again as I cry out. “I don’t have it!”
“You’re a liar,” Ella snarls. “I saw you with it. I always knew you’d taken it, you thief. Now hand it over, Anastasia, or I swear I will make your life a fucking misery.”
You can’t possibly make it any worse.
I keep my mouth closed. I don’t say a word as the belt whips against my skin, burning lines of pain.
“I need it,” she screams. “It’s important, Anastasia. It could change everything for us!”
I curl into myself, bracing for the next blow. My hand over the corner of my bra, where the ring is safe.
You’re not having it. It doesn’t belong to you.
***
I stand in front of the casket. Alone.
It’s the cheapest one I could get.
The priest offers me a small, sympathetic smile. “Just you today?”
I twist around. But there’s nobody else.
“Just me. Please start.”
My feet are heavy on the long walk home.
My mother is dead.
I am an orphan.
But… I’m also free.
Free to leave Ella behind. And start again, somewhere new.
There’s a small amount of money. Not enough for anything much beyond a bus ticket. But enough to escape.
My key sticks in the lock. Frowning, I twist it again.
“Anastasia Cooper?” I turn as the shadows detach from the wall. “Sister to Ella Cooper?”
“She’s not my sister.” The words are instinctive, and the officers look at each other grimly.
“Is… is she alright?” Sudden worry hits me. “Is she hurt?”
“Can you come with us, please?”
She is not hurt.
Quite the opposite. Ella is thriving, tucked away under the protection of the Crown Prince.
What a story she has woven.
And they don’t listen to me, when I tell them they have it wrong.
They don’t listen to me at all.
