Echoes In The Blood

“Drusilla!” Barsia’s voice rang loudly through the small wooden house, shattering the quiet Sunday morning. Outside, the sun had just begun to rise, filling the sky with warm colors of gold and orange. It was the kind of morning that should have been peaceful and calm. But inside Barsia’s home, peace did not exist. “You really enjoy irritating me, don’t you?” Barsia continued angrily. “You are nothing but a burden! If you’re going to stay here, at least do your job properly. Sometimes I regret ever having you.” Drusilla stood silently near the doorway. She held a sack of pig feed in her hands, her head lowered. She had already learned that answering back would only make things worse. Without saying another word, she quietly walked outside toward the pigsty. The cool morning air greeted her, a small comfort after hearing her mother’s harsh words. The pigs gathered eagerly as she poured their feed into the trough. “Here you go,” Drusilla said softly, forcing a small smile. “Eat well, okay? Please grow big and healthy so Mother won’t get angry at me so often.” The pigs oinked loudly as they began eating. “At least you listen,” she whispered sadly. “Hearing those words from her every day hurts… but you never shout at me.” For a brief moment, the pigsty felt like the only peaceful place she had. Suddenly, a voice came from behind her. “I see you’re getting along well with your friends.” Drusilla turned and saw her stepfather, Drake, leaning against the wooden fence with a mocking smile. “Oh… yes, Father,” she replied politely. Drake crossed his arms. “Are you offended by what I just said?” “No,” Drusilla answered calmly. “Actually, you’re right.” He raised an eyebrow. “Right about what?” “That they are my friends.” Drake chuckled softly. “Oh? Did I say that?” “Yes, Father.” “Well then,” he said with a smirk, “I suppose I did.” Before Drusilla could say anything more, Barsia’s voice cut through the yard once again. “Drusilla!” Her mother was walking toward them, clearly irritated. “What is this supposed to mean?” Barsia demanded. Drusilla looked confused. “What do you mean, Mother?” “You haven’t cooked food for your father and me!” Barsia snapped. “I’m starving. Can’t you see that? Go cook something now!” Drusilla glanced at the pigs still eating. “Yes, Mother,” she said quietly. “I’ll cook as soon as they finish eating.” Barsia suddenly turned to Drake, her tone softening. “Honey, are you hungry?” “Very,” Drake replied. Barsia lightly tapped his stomach and smiled. “Then wait here for a moment. Drusilla already has too many things to do.” Drusilla said nothing. She simply continued feeding the pigs. A few minutes later, she returned to the house and began preparing food in the kitchen. Barsia sat nearby, clearly impatient. “Hurry up, Drusilla,” she said sharply. “I’m starving.” Drusilla carefully chopped vegetables on the wooden table. “Please be patient, Mother,” she said calmly. “Good food takes time.” Barsia scoffed. “What? Are you mocking me?” “No, Mother,” Drusilla replied gently. “I just don’t want to rush. I might hurt myself with the knife.” “Stupid girl!” Barsia snapped. “I could cook something better in half the time.” “I’m sorry, Mother,” Drusilla said softly. “But cooking requires patience.” Barsia slammed her hand against the table. “You’re just making excuses for your laziness!” “Mother, please,” Drusilla said quietly. “Just let me finish.” Barsia suddenly grabbed Drusilla by the hair and yanked her backward. Drusilla winced but remained calm. “Mother… please let go,” she said. “You dare talk back to me?” Barsia shouted. “I’ve had enough of your disrespect!” Tears began forming in Drusilla’s eyes. “Mother… is this how you treat your own daughter?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Sometimes I wonder if you really are my—” “How dare you!” Barsia interrupted furiously. “I brought you into this world!” Drusilla’s voice broke. “Did you bring me into this world just to treat me like this?” “You’re ungrateful!” Barsia spat. “I feed you and give you a place to live, and this is how you repay me?” “I’m thankful for that, Mother,” Drusilla said through tears. “But can’t you show me kindness… even just once?” Barsia laughed bitterly. “Kindness? Look at you. You can barely cook a simple meal.” “It’s not about the meal,” Drusilla cried. “It’s about how you treat me.” “You should be grateful I even bother with you at all!” Barsia snapped. Drusilla wiped her tears. “Aren’t you tired of saying hurtful things?” she asked quietly. “You’re my mother. I respect you… but sometimes you make me feel like I don’t deserve to exist.” Barsia’s eyes narrowed. “Like what?” she demanded. “Like a burden? Maybe you are.” Drusilla froze. “I never thought my own mother would say that to me,” she whispered. “Well, it’s time you face the truth,” Barsia said coldly. “You’re not the daughter I hoped for.” Drusilla turned away, sobbing quietly. Just then, Drake entered the house. “Honey,” he said dramatically, “the pigs are done eating. And honestly, that pigsty is disgusting. Their dirt is everywhere.” “Then clean it,” Barsia replied bluntly. Drake stared at her. “Are you out of your mind?” “Just clean it.” “I’m not cleaning that,” Drake said irritably. “Then who will?” Barsia snapped. “Me?” “Where’s Drusilla?” “She’s busy being emotional about something I said.” Drake frowned slightly. “What did you say to her?” Barsia waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, why did I even bother talking to you? You’re nonsense too.” Drake clenched his jaw. “Then clean that damn mess yourself!” he shouted before storming outside. Barsia rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m surrounded by idiots.” Later, while Drusilla was crying quietly in her small room, Drake approached her. For a moment, she thought he had come to comfort her. Instead, he said coldly, “Drusilla, go clean the pigsty. Your mother is furious again.” Drusilla said nothing. She simply wiped her tears and obeyed. After cleaning, she returned to the house only to hear her mother shouting once again. “I can’t believe these laundries are still piling up!” Drusilla wiped her eyes quickly. “Are you crying?” Barsia asked suspiciously. “No, Mother.” Suddenly, Barsia slapped her. “Don’t show me your dramatic face,” she snapped. “It makes me even angrier.” Drake saw the slap as he walked past. “Stop that,” he said. “You’re being too harsh with your daughter.” Barsia glared at him. “Oh, so now you’re showing sympathy?” “No matter what,” Drake replied, “she’s still your daughter.” Barsia crossed her arms. “Then why are you interfering? I’m her mother. It’s my responsibility to teach her a lesson.” Drake looked away, holding back his anger. Barsia then pointed at Drusilla. “And you! I needed that blouse today, but you didn’t wash it. Instead, you spent the entire morning crying!” Drusilla’s voice trembled. “But Mother… I just f inished cleaning the pigsty.” Barsia scoffed. “Get out of my sight.” Drusilla lowered her head and quietly walked away.