The True Daughter

A Sad Beginning.

Jennifer's P.O.V.

Up Till today, the surrounding mansions on St. Reuben's street still stands as an epitome of great mystery to me. I used to see it as one of my late father's properties, but since my uncle took over my father's wealth, I became lost in the realm of confusion.

It was all like a flash of light to me, as I watched everything that my father had worked for all his life, varnished into the thin air like a mist.

I never believed that my late parents would do me such grave harm by not including me as an heir to their wealth. It was highly delusional and, in fact, it still looked like a dream to me, looking at how I was sidelined by my uncle and his family, who finally took over what was rightfully mine.

As I was engrossed with many thoughts of all that had happened to me during this short period, I heard a voice calling to me.

"Jennifer". It was my uncle's wife, aunt Cynthia, whom I hated with passion.

Both of us don't cross the same path at all, since I was always getting scapegoated.

"Jennifer. I thought I told you to wash these clothes? Why am I still seeing stains around it? Is this how your late mother taught you how to wash clothes?" She asked, as she tried mocking my late mother.

" Aunty, I washed them. They are all clean and.......

"Shut up your stinky mouth"She interrupted, as she dashed me a handful of arrogant slap on my cheek.

Bubbles of stars littered around my face. I became angry at her, and wished that I could retaliate back immediately.

"Do you think I am as blind as you? Can't you see the dirt around these clothes? What's really wrong with you?" She yelled.

I wanted to speak, but she immediately raised her hand, signifying that I shouldn't talk at all.

"You daughter of a lousy creature. Look around here, and tell me if there is anyone like you. Absolutely, no one. You are not even happy and grateful that we accommodate you here in our mansion? Upon all we have been doing for you even after the death of your late worthless parents. The little things you can do to assist us in this home, aren't doing them at all. You just want to live a life of luxury. How do you think it would be possible?" Cynthia yelled arrogantly.

To me, she was even speaking out of the blue. She was just looking for an offense from me, to hold on to, so that she would finally accuse me of doing what I had no knowledge of.

Since today, I have been the one who has been cleaning the entire mansion, including their filthy clothes and undies. In fact, I am the one in charge of cleaning. No one in the mansion would ever think of helping me out. Not even Clara, her daughter. All of them behave like celebrities, and make me lick their shoes the way they want.

While we were still talking, Clara, her daughter, and John, her husband, who happened to be my wicked uncle, walked into my small little room.

Uncle John knew that his wife was with me again. He really is a big fool. He would always watch his wife beating me, and even applaud her whenever she insulted his late brother, my father.

Uncle John, on the other hand, has not been good to me. He always tried his best to avoid coming in contact with me. He doesn't ever want us to have conversations together because he feared that I would always ask him about my late father's wealth. He prefers sending words to me through Clara, his daughter, or Cynthia, his wife.

The moment he walked into my room and found his wife shouting at me, he looked me straight in the eyes, and went away without saying a word. Something is scaring him from having words with me. Soon, I shall have to confront him face to face, and air my view.

As for Clara, she stood close to her mother, and was seen squeezing her face at me. She is also one of my major problems in the mansion. She has no compassion at all, and I don't think she has any atoms of human feelings. The man always talks with me in the way she wants, forgetting that I am her senior. Her only savior is just her mother. Her father may not be a major obstacle for me if at all,I wished to deal with her.

"What's up Mum! Why are you stressing your voice and strength in this person with cognitive disabilities ? How many times have I told you never to put any effort into dealing with her? Just call me and give me the order. I know what to do, and absolutely, she knows what she would be expecting from me"Clara said.

"She is very stupid and so annoying. She is not giving us any positive contribution here. Just imagine, even the meal she prepared today was useless", Cynthia said to her daughter.

"Since she is not useful to us, we should take her to the rightful place where she belongs,"Clara suggested.

"And that's what I would do. I promise you," Cynthia agreed, as she looked at me angrily.

The next morning, I woke up, and found out that my mind was still thinking about my late parents. Their actions against me have not yet been accepted by me. I still find it hard that my father, of all people, would do something like this to me. Did he hate me?. Am I not his daughter? What on Earth could make him not want his estates? At least, when he was alive, he used to tell me that everything he had was all mine, and that I should be very careful with how I would be using the resources that he would be given to me. He was my best friend and sweet teacher. In fact, I was closer to him than my mother was.

Meanwhile, as I thought deeply about them and the acts they did against me, in regard to the inheritance of their assets, streams of tears flowed out from my eyes. What angered me the most, was when I remembered how they passed out. So pathetic.

I just kept dressing and preparing to leave for work. A job that displeases me. Seeing those whom I am supposed to control, now controlling me.

I have no power and I have no voice to speak for myself. I just hope that one day, a voice will come.

On the contrary, my uncle, whom I suspect to be an assassin, would do anything possible just to remain at the top of my late parents' estates. In fact, he is an assassin. I don't even know why he was still living with me alive. I just know that he is plotting something dangerous.