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In my small closet, I throw on a pair of jeans and an old T-shirt. I pull my hair up into a ponytail and head downstairs to the hall bathroom to finish getting ready. Then I make my way to my step-sisters’ wing, ready to face whatever they throw at me.
Neither of them address me when I walk into their room, they just start giving out orders. I can tell today is not going to be easy, but it doesn’t matter. I can take it. I’m used to it.
“Ella, I need you to launder these items before tonight,” Mia barks.
As she shoves a few dresses at my chest, she continues talking and pointing her finger at me. “And you need to grab my jewelry that was cleaned last week.”
Before she even finishes, Leah jumps in, throwing her own clothes on top of the pile, softly asking, “Ella, can you sew the strap back on this dress and launder it? When you get back from Mia’s errand, I would love it if you could do my hair and makeup, too.”
I’ve learned over the years not to argue, it's pointless. When I argue things get worse. Honestly doing their laundry and running errands is nothing. This is easy stuff compared to some of their other demands. I throw the items that need to be cleaned in the washer, grab my sewing kit, and start on Leah’s dress.
I straighten out the dress on the bed assessing the best way to fix it. Thankfully, it will only take a few stitches. Super easy. In a couple minutes, I’ve reattached the strap without it being a noticeable fix and without causing any bunching of the surrounding material. I learned the hard way that Leah will freak out if she doesn’t think everything looks perfect. Feeling satisfied, I hang the dress back up.
Before I can move onto the next item, my step-mother walks in and gives me the next demand. “Ella, where is breakfast?”
My step-mother’s words make me flinch. Shit, I forgot to prepare breakfast before getting caught up in what Leah and Mia needed. I set all my items down and respond in a monotone voice, “I will do that now.”
Jogging toward the kitchen, I hurry to make everyone their signature egg white omelets with a side of fruit. Thankfully, when it comes to food they’re easy and predictable. They never eat more than what they consider the “right” amount of calories. My step-mother instilled the need to look perfect at all times into the girls. Going so far as to take food away from them, criticize them, and even tell them they weren’t pretty enough. Perfect enough. Thin enough.
She tells me this too, but I just never listen. I work hard to remember my mom calling me beautiful. My dad always taking me for ice cream and calling me his perfect little girl.
I plate the food. Leave it on the counter and get ready to run the errand for Mia. I smile inwardly knowing I’m going to grab myself a coffee while I’m out. A coffee that is definitely not on the allowed to eat list and full of chocolate and whipped cream. What they don’t know, won’t hurt them.
And what could be bad about a little sweetness in life…right?
***
My sugar high doesn’t last long. When I get back, I’m met with a stern looking step-mother sitting in an armchair in the shadows of the living room. It’s obvious she has been waiting for me, probably trying to catch me doing something I’m not supposed to, so she can punish me.
“Where have you been, Ella?”
Her icy voice washes over me, turning my insides cold, but I stay steady. I pull the bag from the jeweler from behind my back and hold it up for her to see. “I went to grab the jewelry that Mia requested.”
My step-mother's eyes flash quickly with anger, never leaving my face. I can tell she’s pissed that I was out for Mia and not doing something nefarious, but I don’t give her any sass. I don’t move, nor do I flinch. I just stand there letting the silence envelop the room until she finally breaks.
She rises from the chair, and steps closer to me, not allowing me any room to move. “Fine. Finish getting the girls ready. We need to leave. And no messing around, Ella. You need to do as I say. We wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to your father.”
With those words, she turns to leave. My eyes close and my lungs fully inflate with air as I’m left standing there…wishing that I didn’t have to deal with any of this anymore.
Climbing up the stairs, my mind drifts to my plans. Plans to go to the ball, sneak around, and hopefully find some information that makes them pay and set me free. For now, I have to stay the course so they won’t see me coming. But mark my words, I will be coming for them.
“Ella, get in here and help zip me up.” Mia’s words break through my thoughts. I look up at both girls dressed in matching slip dresses that mold to every curve of their body. Mia has a red dress on that compliments her dark, ebony hair while Leah is wearing a green dress that sets off the red highlights in her light brown hair. A wave of jealousy starts deep in my stomach. Shit, I don’t want to be jealous of them, but these girls have always been gorgeous and it’s even more glaring now that I clearly don’t measure up.
The little girl in me wishes that things could be different, that I could be in a dress right now that matches them, like real sisters. That my mom and dad would be taking us to the ball. Proud. Ready to show us to the world.
I walk up behind both of them zipping up their dresses. I finish up with their makeup and hair. Giving them another glance, I can’t help but let the honesty escape my mouth. “You girls look so pretty.”
The soft smirk on Leah's face gives me hope that maybe we still have time to have a real relationship, but when I turn to Mia, all of those thoughts disappear as I come face to face with her wicked smile.
She looks me up and down and then flips her hair at me. With another smirk, I know I’m not going to like the next words out of her mouth.
“Yes, Ella. We do look good, don’t we? We will miss you at the party, but then again no one would even know you were there, right? I know I wouldn’t.” The ugly step-sister. No parents. No pretty clothes. Nothing to offer anymore.
I can feel the tears start to well up in the back of my eyes. I try to blink them away before one slips. Unfortunately, I’m not fast enough, and one slides down my cheek. Using my sleeve, I try to covertly wipe it away, but Leah sees it. Her face softens a tiny bit, for just a second.
“Thank you, Ella,” she whispers as she leaves me behind.
four
