Pleasure in Retaliation

Skeletons in Her Closet

“HEY Lynn! If you want to have some food to be left for you, you should get your ass moving and stop cocooning in your bed like a fricking bug!”

This is what would always wake me up in the morning—shouts and banters with a couple of loud banging on the door. Even if it’s still so early in the morning, the house would almost turn upside down because of how loud my mother would wake me up. 

Fortunately, our house was a bit far away from our neighbors—because if not, otherwise our neighbors would have complained us to the higher authorities a long, long time ago already.

All I did was heave a sigh and hurriedly prepared for a new day. After about fifteen minutes in the shower, I immediately put on some house clothes. I went to my small nightstand and combed my hair as I looked towards my reflection from the mirror.

I heaved another sigh and patted my cheeks to help ease the redness on it. The redness that I saw on my cheeks was a sign of my on-going fever, but I quickly shrugged the thought of rest and the feeling of dizziness for I need to do the household chores, and walked out of my bedroom and went to the kitchen.

But I could not hide my disappointment when I saw no one else sitting on the dining table except for the food with some plates on top of it so that it would not be covered with dust. There was nothing that I could do except smiling bitterly as I sat down to one of the chairs and ate the food that my family left for me.

I tried to remember the last time that me, my father, my mother and my sister were all gathered here in our kitchen and ate a meal together, with small talks and just fun and love looming all around us—but my brain registered no memory of it.

Maybe it was too long ago since that happened, since all I could remember was the feeling of being left out and being shooed away by my own family—as if they were ashamed that they have me as a daughter and a sibling.

I was no longer aware of the rich pour of tears from my eyes as I remembered how much I was being treated by mother, of how my father was just ignorant about how my mother treated me, of how my sister would just laugh whenever I was reprimanded by our mother.

Even if we have a maid who is assigned to tend the household chores, they would still force me to do the dishes, throw piles after piles of garbage, clean the house’s every nook and cranny, and wash their dirty laundry.

I no longer feel like a daughter, nor a family member. What I seemed to be was someone they need to straighten the creases in their lives, and my pay was the food and lodging that they gave me.

I felt like a rag, that they can easily throw away with a snap of their fingers when I become useless.

My mother reasoned that it was a good way for me to get used to the housework, and I could probably use it when the day comes that I will have to live alone. But I never felt that it was the only reason behind their foul treatment towards me.

If these daily loads of household chores were to train me for the many years to come, then why haven’t I seen my older sister even lift a finger or even touch the broom and motioned to do the chores?

It's not that I'm hesitant to do what my parents told me to do but I can't help but feel jealous of  how they show their utter appreciation towards my older sister, Elaiza, and all they did for me was nod their heads or shout at my face.

I could not help but let the pang of jealousy bite my insides.

When I disembarked on my first steps as an adolescent, never have I experienced being invited by my parents whenever they go to the mall or even take me for some walks along the subdivision—all the little things that families would do when they gather together. Even when they go to church on Sundays, they would just leave me and tell me to clean their rooms.

But even with all those foul treatments that they have inflicted upon me, I still do not know how to be angry at them. All the pain and hurt was still overpowered by my love for my parents and my sister. I still love them with all my heart—because they’re my family.

Heaving a heavy sigh, I chose to shrug the feeling of dread off and started to get up from my seat. I felt a bit dizzy because of the fever that I was having, and I propped my hand to the table for support.

Even in the verge of bursting into tears, I willed all of my strength to keep me still and with a few deep breaths while closing my eyes shut, I prayed to God that all things would be better soon for all of us.

I heaved another deep sigh before putting away the plates and went to the sink to wash them. Yet no matter how hard I tried not to cry… the silent tears fell on their own as the pain flooded inside my chest.

When I finally finished doing the dishes, I immediately dried my hands using a towel and went upstairs to pick up their dirty clothes. It’s a Saturday, and my mother told me that every Saturday would be a day of laundry, so I need to finish doing the chore early before I work on my homework.

“All of the colored clothes should be washed using the washing machine, Ma’am Lynn. Madame only likes the whites to be—” Aunt Pacing, our maid, reminds me as I arrive at our laundry area with baskets full of my family’s dirty laundry, in which I politely cut her off because I already know the rest to her reminder.

“I already know it, Aunt Pacing,” I said to her with a faint smile as I started to separate the whites from the colored clothes. “The colored ones should be run on the washing machine and the whites should be washed by hand.”

I was a bit confused when I did not hear her say anything, even when I still could feel her presence around me. After separating the clothes, I looked up to meet Aunt Pacing’s eyes which were full of concern. “Yes, Aunt Pacing? Did I forget something to do before I start doing the laundry?”

I saw her heave a sigh and looked at me with a weary expression on her face before she spoke to me with utter gentleness. “Are you certain, Ma’ am Lynn, that you could do the chores? You have a fever, and I can see that you very far from being—”

“Aunt Pacing, I’m fine,” I said in a slightly muffled voice because of the colds that I have. “I can do this, Aunt Pacing. You don’t have to worry about me,” I told the old lady in front of me with a tone of reassurance.

She did not look too convinced with my answer but accepted it, nonetheless. Aunt Pacing then proceeded to do the rest of the household chores and left me in the laundry area alone. I immediately sat down on the small chair and then started handwashing the white clothes while making glances at the washing machine from time to time as it whirrs softly, while it does its wonders with the dirty clothes inside of it.

After two hours of being drenched in sweat and cold water, I was just about to finish hanging the rest of the clothes in hangers when I heard the familiar honking of a car coming from outside. With the sudden urge to see my parents and Elaiza form wherever they might have been, I plastered a wide smile on my face as I wiped the sweat away with the hem of my shirt.

I walked in a fast pace towards the living room to meet them, when I heard some shouting coming from the area. Out of deep concern that something might have happened to anyone of them, I hurriedly went  to the living room—but when I saw my mother's angry eyes as she was stabbing my father with her finger, I quickly hid behind the big cabinet and opted to listen to whatever they were quarreling about.

I could not really hear what Mom was telling my father about at first, and I really wanted to just take some steps closer in order to hear their conversation. But when I was about to do so, I saw that Dad was about to just walk away to end their conversation, but Mom stopped him from walking. I immediately leaned my back to the cabinet with the fear that they would see me gossiping about their fight.

I was just about to go and let my parents be, but my feet became glued to the ground when I heard the words that my mother spat to my father’s face. My hands flew to my mouth and clenched hard to conceal my sobs, as the abundant tears started to fall down from my eyes.

I don’t even know the truth anymore.

I don’t even know who I am anymore.

I don’t even know if the life I am living was really mine after all.

I don’t even know if I am really a part of this family.

When I felt that my legs could no longer hold my weight, I let myself slip silently to the floor as Mom's words kept ringing and ringing inside my head like a broken record. Finally, I let out all of the tears that I was suppressing through all the years that I’ve lived—for now I know why they were treating me this way.

Why they treated me like an outcast.

Why I felt like an ugly duckling—someone who was never a part of their circle.

Before I let the darkness to consume me, Mom’s words came back ringing inside my head, every letter began to be imprinted in my brain, the sharp pang of truth stabbing me right at the gut.

“How long would you want to keep the truth to your child, huh?! Don’t you think that at the age of fifteen she would not understand that Lynn was the fruit of your infidelity?!

Hector, I only accepted to raise that b***h because you said that our names in the business world might be compromised! But that bastarda is already starting to grow up and I could already see the f*****g face of your mistress in her, and I f*****g hate it!”