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While Stella went to meet up with Jeff, I had an evening planned with Denise. I wasn’t looking forward to the outing that she had planned for us, especially after hearing the horror stories of the women and how they treated Stella.
I was going into the situation with hatred already sitting in my chest.
She chose an overpriced restaurant and showed up in a gown as if she were going to the Oscars. Everything about her posture showed the fact that she thought she was better than everyone surrounding her.
You could tell a lot about a person by how they treated strangers. Even more based on how they treated waitstaff—people who were there to help.
Denise was a menace to society.
“I asked for the butter to be softened, and this is rock solid,” Denise scolded the poor server who couldn’t have been over nineteen years old.
The girl, Josie, was almost shaking from Denise’s tone. “I’m so sorry about that, ma’am, let me run that back to get you—"
“I truly cannot believe how incompetent some humans are to this day. It was an easy request, and still, you managed to screw it up,” Denise scolded.
Josie apologized again, I told her not to worry about it, and she hurried away.
“It blows your mind, doesn’t it?” Denise said, pursing her lips together in disapproval. “How the mediocre are so good at making the simplest mistakes.”
“You’re a fucking demon,” I muttered under my breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
Please don’t be my mother.
“You know who the server reminds me of?” Denise asked after the overly apologetic server brought her a plate with the softened butter. She hurried away quickly, too.
“Who’s that?”
“Stella,” she breathed out. “That woman couldn’t have a backbone if she paid for it. Plus, she messed up on the easiest of tasks and—hey! Where are you going?!” Denise remarked as I stood from the table.
Far, far away from here.
21
Stella
Twelve Years Old
* * *
“I thought I asked you to take out the trash, Stella,” Denise remarked as she stood in the kitchen. The trash bin was wide open, and she stared at me as if I were the worst thing to ever happen to her.
I swore I took that out earlier.
I mean, I think I did?
Sometimes Denise would ask me to clean things up, and before I knew it, more chores would magically show up.
I shook my head, confused. “I already did that?”
“Is that a question or a statement?” she asked, snapping her fingers at me.
“A st-statement,” I muttered, my voice shaky. Kevin was off at work, and I hated when he went to work because then I’d be left alone with Denise. She was good at acting nice when Kevin was around, but whenever he’d leave, it was as if she’d take off her nice face and be really mean to me. Even though I never did anything mean to her.
“Then speak clearly, Stella, and stop with the mumbling. Good heavens, I am shocked Kevin even allows you to act the way you do. Now, get this trash out now,” she told me.
I grabbed the trash bag quickly and scurried away. I ran outside and tossed it into the trash bin. I turned to go back inside, but my heart was racing fast. Instead, I bent down next to the trash bins and wrapped my arm around my legs as I rocked back and forth.
“Do better, Stella, just do better,” I said to myself, feeling my stomach hurt as I realized it was because of me that Denise was upset. I did something wrong, and now she was mad at me. I didn’t want her to be mad at me because maybe she’d tell Kevin, and I didn’t want him to be mad either.
Be better.
Not only did my stomach hurt, but my chest did, too. I started breathing heavily, rocking faster and faster as I rubbed my hands up and down my arms. My nails scratched into my skin as things became blurry.
It felt like my heart was going to burst out of my chest as tears fell down my cheeks. What was wrong with me? Why did I feel like this?
Do better. Be normal. Be what Denise wants.
My hands became sweaty, and I rubbed them against my pants legs. My hands were shaky, but I shot up to my feet when I heard my name.
“Stella!” Denise screamed from inside the house.
My chest still hurt, my stomach still felt gross, but I ran as fast as I could to get back inside the house. I had to be fast. Otherwise, Denise would yell at me for being slow. The moment I made it into the kitchen, she was staring at me with stern eyes. In front of her was her smoothie lying in a mess across the floor.
“Look what you made me do, Stella!” Denise remarked.
“I…I…I…” I stuttered, feeling shaky.
