OWNED BY THE BAD BOY

The shrill cry of my alarm clock sliced through the darkness like a knife. I groaned softly, pressing my face deeper into the thin, flattened pillow, wishing—just for once—that I could stay in bed until the sun was fully awake. But wishes were useless here. Aunt Marissa hated when I wasn’t up before everyone else. I pushed myself upright, my muscles aching from yesterday’s double shift at the small diner. The floorboards were cold under my bare feet, and my tiny room felt more like a storage closet than a bedroom. A cracked dresser, a squeaky bed, and a single window with a broken latch—that was all I had. Still, I was grateful for it. Sleeping here was better than sleeping under a bridge. The house was already alive with muffled sounds of water running and drawers slamming shut. My cousins, Clarissa and Clara, were awake. Identical twins—both tall, beautiful, and spoiled. Sometimes I thought they had been born with crowns already on their heads. I slipped into my faded uniform skirt and blouse, then padded quietly down the hallway toward the kitchen. The scent of expensive perfume drifted from the twins’ room, and I sighed, already dreading the day ahead. In the kitchen, the list Aunt Marissa had scrawled on a notepad the night before was waiting for me. Toast. Eggs. Smoothies. Pack lunches. I tied my hair into a quick bun and got to work. By the time the eggs were sizzling in the pan, Aunt Marissa swept in. She looked flawless, as always, her silk robe tied perfectly at the waist, her hair in smooth waves that looked like they’d been styled by a professional. Her sharp eyes scanned the kitchen like a queen inspecting her servant. “You’re late,” she said flatly. “It’s only six,” I replied quietly, flipping the eggs. Her lips thinned. “Excuses already, Camila? If you want to keep living here, you’ll learn to move faster.” I lowered my head. “Yes, ma’am.” The twins strutted in moments later, their laughter echoing off the walls. Both wore the same uniform as me, but theirs looked crisp, tailored, like they’d just stepped out of a catalog. Clara dropped her phone onto the counter and wrinkled her nose at the sight of me. “Ugh, why is she still here?” she muttered to Clarissa. “Because Mom is too soft,” Clarissa replied loudly enough for me to hear. “Honestly, Camila, don’t you ever feel embarrassed? Living off scraps while we provide for you?” I bit my tongue and plated their breakfasts, sliding the toast and eggs in front of them without a word. “Don’t forget the smoothies,” Clara added, scrolling through her phone. “Strawberry for me, blueberry for her. And make it quick—we don’t want to be late.” I made the smoothies, packed their lunches, and poured Aunt Marissa’s coffee. By the time I sat down to nibble on a piece of dry toast for myself, the three of them were already chatting about their plans for the day—shopping, cheer practice, gossip about the latest parties. My world felt like a completely different planet. When breakfast was over, I cleaned the dishes as they left the table. Clara paused in the doorway, giving me a slow once-over. “You know, Camila, no matter how many times you wash that uniform, it still looks cheap,” she said sweetly. “I guess money can’t buy class… but then again, you wouldn’t know.” They laughed together as they left, and I forced a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. By the time the kitchen was spotless again, the bus was already due. I slung my worn backpack over my shoulder and slipped out the back door. The autumn air was brisk, biting against my cheeks. The twins would ride in their mother’s sleek black car, of course. I would walk the long stretch to the bus stop, trying not to think about how different our lives were even though we lived under the same roof. As I trudged down the road, I whispered a small prayer, like I always did. Just get through today, Camila. One day at a time.