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Ever since I was born, it had always been the sequence of events; getting punished daily for the petty mistakes I made.
Margaret said I'm non-complaint and to make sure I stayed out of trouble she had to discipline me.
Juliet and I were never alike. She preferred to stay in the shadows of Margaret-since she claimed that I had no privilege to refer to her as a mom-while I do things my own way. So far, that had gotten me into more troubles than I can count.
I paused my movement on the broom, the tiled floor looking anew. I could hear footsteps approaching. I steadied myself getting ready for Margaret's wraths and if I were unlucky, a few strokes of cane.
Before I could make a run for the door, Margaret stomped in with two whips in hand and Juliet trailing behind her clenching the hem of her dress with a barbarous glare.
Margaret looked around, heaved a sigh and uttered with potency. "How many times have I told you not to defy my orders? I sheltered you, took care of you when you were young. Wiped away your tears when nobody else would. And what do I get in return-"
She looked at me with an expectant stare, and I knew I had to answer. She had reiterated the same phrase again and again whenever something wasn't done her way.
She was unforbearing by my lack of response. I couldn't admit to a felony I never committed. Still, my tender body was a reminder of the previous beatings and the upcoming ones.
"Dis-" I started only to be interrupted by Juliet. She linked Margaret's arms in hers, and like the pampered child she was-said in a soft voice. "Cheryl always makes you angry mother. I don't see why you don't punish her the way she deserved."
I had always wished for a little sister who I could play and have the time of the world with. Sadly, Juliet couldn't be that.
Margaret didn't scold her for intruding, instead she hugged her and prod her shoulders with such affections that I envied. "Go upstairs Sweetie, I will deal with this. Don't worry your pretty head about it, she will get the punishment she deserve. Trust me."
Juliet nodded her head, and tromped upstairs. Before she was gone, she sent a wink and a smirk my way.
"Rat," she growled at me. My gut churned in fear, I clutched at the broom for dear life.
Margaret yanked my arms so harshly I was sure a bruise had began to form. The broom fell with a thud.
"I have told you to cook lunch, haven't I?"
Normally, I would answer with a 'yes' but today I couldn't because I didn't remember a time when Margaret had instructed me to cook her precious daughter and her lunch.
"I don't think you did." I voiced out. It was a wrong move because Margaret reached out to the whip she had behind her, and trounced it on my lower back.
I couldn't help but moaned in pain. Years of getting beaten by her couldn't have made me immune to it.
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