Under their hands.
"You stupid girl! Get up and clean my bathroom"
Isolde woke with a sharp jerk. Her head throbbed. Light burned her eyes. Ana stood in the doorway, hands on her waist.
“I already did,” Isolde said. Her voice was weak.
She rubbed her forehead.
Pain burst behind her eyes.
Paracetamol.
She had forgotten to take it.
Ana stormed towards her bed, fuming with anger.
"b-but I already washed the.."
Ana grabbed her hair.
Isolde cried out as she was yanked forward. Fire shot through her scalp. Her feet slipped off the bed. Her knees shook.
Ana twisted Isolde’s hair around her wrist.
Tighter.
Ana dragged her into her own room, pulling her into her bathroom.
Isolde fell to the ground, Ana's hand's still tangled in her hair.
Her bones felt stiff.
Her skin felt like it was being pricked.
Isolde’s hands felt slow and numb as she tried to pull free.Hot tears streamed down her face.Her head rang like it was filled with bells.
Ana mopped the floor with Isolde's hair.
“Please,” Isolde whispered.
Ana jerked her hands away from Isolde's hair.
"Ew! Your disgusting hair strand is on my bathroom floor. Clean it!"
Isolde coughed.
Ana slapped her.
The sound cracked through the room.
The floor rushed up.
Darkness crept over Isolde's whole head.
Ana scanned her from head to toe.
She pushed Isolde, shaking her back and forth.
Then, ran to the living room.
"Mom!”
Maria looked up from her wine glass.
“What now?”
Ana stood there, breathing hard. “It’s Isolde. She fell. She’s not waking up.”
June frowned. “Is she dead?”
Maria rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic.”
“She’s not moving,” Ana said again, quieter now.
Maria sighed and waved her hand. “She’s pretending.”
“What if she isn’t?” Ana asked.
June leaned back. “Did you try waking her?”
“No…”
Maria thought for a moment, then said, “Slap her.”
Ana swallowed. “I already did.”
June laughed. “Then do it harder.”
Maria’s eyes flicked toward the hallway. “Use the mop. Dip it in the toilet first.”
Ana’s stomach twisted.
“Go,” Maria said. “If she’s acting, she’ll wake.”
Ana went back to the bathroom.
She dipped the mop into the toilet water.
Her hands shook as she lifted it.
She slapped Isolde’s face with it.
Cold water splashed across Isolde’s skin.
She gasped.
Her eyes flew open. She coughed and turned her head, breathing fast, confused, terrified.
Ana stepped back, relief and anger mixing on her face.
“Get up,” she said. “And clean.”
Isolde didn’t speak.
She pushed herself up slowly. Her body felt heavy. Her head spun.
She took the mop.
She cleaned.
The floor.
The toilet.
The sink.
Her arms burned. Her hands shook. Water soaked her dress. Her hair clung to her neck.
“Missed a spot,” Ana said.
Isolde scrubbed harder.
When it was done, Ana left.
Isolde stayed on the floor for a long time before she moved.
That night, the pain came back.
Isolde lay curled on her bed. Her head throbbed with each breath. She reached into her bag and pulled out the paracetamol.
No food.
No water.
She swallowed it dry.
Her stomach twisted hard.
Pain spread through her belly. She pressed her hand there. Her teeth clenched. Her stomach growled angrily.
She slid off the bed and crawled to the door.
The kitchen light came on.
The fridge was full.
Too full.
Bowls. Plates. Wrapped food. Bottles. Sweet smells. Heavy smells. Her mouth filled with spit. Her hands shook.
They’ll notice.
Her head felt light. Her knees wobbled.
Then she saw it.
Bread.
Cheese.
They won’t notice if I take just only the bread.
She pinched small pieces. Scooped from the sides. Put everything back just right.
She ran to her room.
She ate fast. Too fast. Crumbs stuck to her lips.
Her stomach still growled.
She went back.
Morning came loud.
Hands dragged her up. Voices shouted. She was pulled into the bathroom.
“You thought we wouldn't notice,” Maria said.
Isolde shook her head.
"And I really wanted to eat that bread for breakfast. It's my favorite chocolate bread, mummy" June whined.
Hands held her jaw. Pressure on her back. Her throat burned. Tears fell as her body emptied.
When it was over, she lay on the floor.
No one helped her.
Later, Isolde sat on her bed with her journal and pen.
Her hands still shook.
She opened it.
And her pen began to move.
I want noise.
She paused.
I want noise.
Music so loud I disappear.
Her pen pressed harder.
I don’t want to feel my body.
She turned the page.
There is a place above the city.
Everything looks small.
Her chest felt tight.
If I drink enough, I won’t be scared.
I won’t feel anything.
She closed the journal.
Her black dress lay on the bed.
She touched it.
Suddenly, the door creaked.
June stepped in.
Isolde’s eyes widened. She grabbed her journal and ripped the page she’d just written, crumpling it in her hands. She pressed herself against the floor, hiding it beneath her feet.
June laughed, stepping closer. “What are you hiding?”
Before Isolde could move, June snatched the journal from her hands.
She flipped pages quickly. Words spilled out—thoughts about the bread and cheese, the hunger that ate her, the unfairness, the whispering doubt that she wasn’t even really their sister.
June’s laughter rose, cruel and sharp. She slapped Isolde hard across the face, flinging the hardcover journal back into her.
It hit with a thud, bruising her cheek slightly.
Isolde hissed in pain.
"Pathetic" June said and walked out of her room.
Isolde fell to the ground, lying down, sobbing very hard trying to catch her breath.
Let the darkness come quicker, please.
It all ends tonight.
