“Come on (y/n), hurry up! I need you to clean my room next!” You scoffed at the words of your step sister.
When you mother had died due to a horrible sickness, you and your father had been filled with a great sadness. Only 2 years ago he had come home to you, smiling proudly and pleading you to take a seat.
“What happened?”, you had asked excited, seeing your father smile for the first time after your mother had passed away.
“I met a woman”, he had stated and your heart had tightened in an instant. “She is beautiful and funny and she has two lovely daughters”, he had continued.
“I am really happy for you father”, you had hugged him. You didn’t feel good about the situation, but your father was happy. How could you not grant it to him?
“I will marry her on sunday” Hearing those words, you had let go of him. Was he serious? A glance at his face had told you that he was and you had sighed. “Isn’t that a little early? How long do you know each other now? For a few days?”
A frown had found its way on your fathers face. “We actually met 2 months ago”, he had replied biting his lip. You had only stared at him. He had been seeing a woman for months and only bothered to tell you because of the upcoming wedding?
You couldn’t deny you had been hurt, but at that moment you had managed to cover it up. “Congrats”, you had mumbled and put on a fake smile. Your father had grinned proudly, not realizing your sudden change of mood. “Thank you, darling! You will meet them tomorrow. I am sure you will love your stepsisters!”, he had bursted out thrilled. “You will share a room and-” You hadn’t listened anymore. The thought of getting stepsisters freightened you, but made you ecstatic at the same time.
The next day you had met your new family and you had to admit they seemed sweet. You had figured you would get along well and after all your mother wouldn’t have wanted your father to stay alone forever.
The wedding day had been over soon and on the next day they had moved in with you. But only a week after the wedding they had started to show their real faces. You had to give up your room and had to move in the attic. The politeness you showed for them by doing the dishes and washing their clothes soon got replaced by more and more tasks that were thrown at you.
After a month you couldn’t recognize yourself. Your light blue dress was stained with dirt and ashes and your face was black from the cinder. You spend your days serving your stepmother and her daughters, working hard to make them satisfied. If you refused they would punish you.
Once your stepmother had locked you in the basement with the rats, not giving you food or water for 2 whole days.
The other time your stepsisters had ripped all your clothes. Since then you only wore the same dirty dress over and over again.
You had tried to speak to your father, but he denied the truth. He had closed his eyes before the reality a long time ago, thinking he lived the perfect life he had imagined with his wife a long time ago. Even if that meant to mistake his own daughter for a maid.
“I am nearly done”, you yelled back and finished scrubbing the floor. “Oh you are?”, your other stepsister murmured. You gave her a questioning look. “Yes, I just fin-”, you stopped speaking when she took a bucket filled with sludge, pouring it at the spick and span floor.
You watched in pure horror. “I think you need to do that again”, she giggled and turned around. “What is wrong with you?”,you yelled after her, but her only respone was another laugh.
When the sun set you had polished her room again. “I am waiting”, your stepsister reminded you impatiently and you started to clean her room as well.
When you had finished the moon was already sparkling down at you. But instead of going to bed, like the others did, you snuck out.
You made your way to the grave of your mother, only stumbling once in the dark. Sitting down in the cold grass you began to cry. The tears burned down your cheeks and you silently sobbed at the pain. A year ago you had played outside in the sun, had helped on the market and read book after book. How good you have had it back then. Now you were a slave, working your butt off and getting insulted by your stepmother on daily basis.
Every word she said, every order she barked at you, slowly made you believe that she was right. This was your fault. You didn’t know what you did wrong, but when even your own father let them treat you this way there had to be a reason for that you deserved it.
You returned to the house, climbing up the stairs to the attic. You laid down, looking out of the skylight. The stars shining down at you calmed you and you found into a much needed sleep.