BENEATH THEIR MASKS

The first time Eliana realized that being a child did not mean you would be loved, she was only seven years old. She remembered that day clearly, even years later. Not because anything extraordinary had happened, but because it was the day she learned that sometimes, the people who were supposed to protect you could be the very people who made you feel unwanted. It was a Sunday morning. Their small house was already filled with noise. Her younger siblings were arguing over the last piece of bread, her baby brother was crying, and her mother was shouting from the kitchen for somebody to bring her the spoon she had been looking for since morning. Their father sat on an old wooden chair near the window, staring at his phone as though the problems in his house did not concern him. "Eliana!" She jumped at the sound of her mother's voice. "Have you finished washing those plates?" "Not yet, Mama." "What do you mean, not yet? What have you been doing since you woke up?" Eliana looked at the pile of plates beside her. She had barely finished washing the first half when her mother sent her to fetch water. After that, she had been asked to sweep the sitting room and help dress the youngest children. But she said none of that. "I'm sorry, Mama. I'll finish them now." "Better." Her mother turned away, carrying the crying baby on her back. Eliana picked up the sponge again. She had learned that explaining herself only made things worse. By the time she finished washing the plates, the others were already getting ready for church. Her older sister stood in front of the small mirror they shared, adjusting the ribbon in her hair while Eliana hurried to find a clean dress. "Have you seen my blue sandals?" Eliana asked. Her sister glanced at her. "How will I know? Go and look for them yourself." "But I left them here yesterday." "And?" Eliana said nothing. She eventually found the sandals beneath her younger brother's bed. One strap was almost torn, but she slipped them on anyway. When she entered the sitting room, her mother looked her over. "Why are you still looking like that? Do you want us to be late because of you?" "I'm ready, Mama." "Then move." That was how most of Eliana's mornings went. She was always being told to hurry, to help, to keep quiet, to understand. Nobody ever asked if she was tired. Nobody ever wondered what it felt like to be seven years old and already feel as though you were taking up too much space in the world. Their family was large. Eight children, two parents, and a house that seemed to grow smaller every year. There was never enough money for everything. Sometimes, there was barely enough food. School fees became arguments. Electricity bills went unpaid. Whenever their father returned home without money, the atmosphere changed, and everyone learned to be quiet. Eliana understood that life was difficult. What she did not understand was why the difficulty always seemed to find its way to her. If her younger brother broke a cup, Eliana should have been watching him. If her sister misplaced her schoolbook, Eliana must have touched it. If there was not enough food, Eliana was old enough to manage. She was old enough to understand. Old enough to sacrifice. Old enough to stop asking. But somehow, she was never old enough to be listened to. That Sunday, after church, the family returned home to find their father's elder sister waiting for them. Aunty Grace sat on the sofa with her handbag beside her. She was a well-dressed woman who always smelled of expensive perfume. Whenever she visited, Eliana's mother became unusually polite, and her father seemed to remember how to smile. "Ah, my brother!" she exclaimed when he entered. "You people have finally returned." Her father laughed. "My sister, you should have told us you were coming." "And miss the opportunity to see my favourite brother? Never." She turned to Eliana's mother. "My dear, you look tired." Eliana's mother sighed immediately. "You don't even know. This house is becoming too much for me. Eight children, no money, and a husband who believes everything will somehow work itself out." Her father frowned. "Must you start this in front of everybody?" "I'm only telling the truth." Aunty Grace raised a hand. "Please, both of you. There is no need to argue." She said it gently, but something about the way her parents immediately fell silent made Eliana look at her twice. Aunty Grace had always been good at making people listen to her. She could tell her mother that a particular decision was foolish, and her mother would defend it. She could convince her father to spend money they did not have, and he would somehow find a reason to agree. Eliana had noticed these things long before she understood them. That afternoon, while the adults talked, she sat on the floor with her youngest brother in her arms. He was sleepy and warm against her chest. "How old are you now, Eliana?" Aunty Grace suddenly asked. "Seven, ma." "And what class are you in?" "Primary three." "Very good." The woman smiled at her. For a brief moment, Eliana felt pleased. It was not often that an adult asked her a question and waited long enough for her to answer. Then Aunty Grace turned to her mother. "This girl is growing. You should start teaching her how to help properly around the house. A girl must learn these things early." Her mother nodded eagerly. "That is what I've been saying. At least somebody understands me." Eliana lowered her eyes. She had thought the questions meant Aunty Grace was interested in her. She had not realized that the conversation was about finding more things for her to do. Later that evening, after Aunty Grace had left, Eliana sat outside their house with her knees pulled against her chest. The sky was turning orange, and somewhere down the street, children were playing and laughing. She watched them for a while. Then she looked down at her sandals. The torn strap had finally given way. She wondered if her mother would buy her another pair. She wondered if her father would remember. She wondered if, just once, somebody would notice that she needed something without making her feel guilty for asking. "Eliana!" Her mother's voice came from inside. She closed her eyes briefly. "Coming, Mama!" She stood up, brushed the dust from her dress, and hurried indoors. There was always something else to do. There was always somebody who needed her. And there was always a reason why her own needs could wait. That night, after everyone had gone to bed, Eliana lay awake on the thin mattress she shared with two of her younger sisters. Her stomach was empty. Dinner had finished before she returned from helping their neighbour carry some things, and there had been nothing left for her. She turned towards the wall and pulled the old sheet over her shoulder. From the next room, she could hear her parents talking. Their voices were low at first, but the house was small, and the walls were thin. "Grace is right," her mother said. "We cannot continue like this." Her father sighed. "What do you want me to do? Am I not trying?" "Trying is not enough." Silence followed. Then her mother spoke again. "Sometimes I wonder if I made a mistake." Eliana opened her eyes. She did not know whether her mother was talking about their marriage, their children, or the life they had built together. She only knew that the words hurt. A few seconds later, her father replied. "We have children now. We cannot keep looking back." "I know." "Then what do you want from me?" "I want us to find a solution." Another silence. Then her mother said something that made Eliana stop breathing for a moment. "Perhaps one of the children should go and stay with someone who can actually take care of them. At least we would have one less mouth to feed." Her father did not answer immediately. Eliana stared into the darkness. She waited for him to object. She waited for him to say that none of their children was a burden. That they would find a way to manage. That no matter how difficult life became, they would not send one of their children away simply because things were hard. Instead, her father said, "We can discuss it." Eliana turned towards her sisters. They were sleeping peacefully, unaware that their parents were discussing the possibility of sending one of them away. She pulled the sheet closer to her face. For the first time that night, she wished she could disappear into the mattress and become so small that nobody would ever have a reason to notice her again. She did not cry loudly. She had learned how to cry without making a sound. And as she lay there in the darkness, listening to the voices of the two people who had brought her into the world, Eliana made a promise to herself. One day, she would become somebody. Somebody who would not have to beg to be considered. Somebody who would not have to earn the right to eat, to rest, or to feel loved. She did not know how it would happen. She did not know when. She was only seven years old, after all. But somewhere deep inside her, a small part of her still believed that life could be different. She held on to that belief as sleep finally came. She did not know that, before long, her parents would make a decision that would change her life forever. And she certainly did not know that the person who would eventually take her away from home would be someone she had every reason to trust. For now, she was just Eliana. A little girl who wanted to be loved. And a little girl who was slowly learning that being wanted and being loved were not always the same thing.