The Stolen Life

"Stop trying to deny it, Eleanor. I know exactly what you're thinking. You must be jealous of Rhianne. I never thought you'd become so cunning! You say everything's fine, but your actions clearly show you wish nothing but harm upon her. I feel ashamed to have ever called you my sister."

After Jeffrey spat out those nasty words, he raised a hand over his mouth. A hint of unease flashed across his face. He knew his words would hurt me, knew I wouldn't be able to handle them. Yet, he said them anyway.

"Jeff, don't say that about her. It's all my fault. It's been a long time since I've done any chores—I must have just forgotten."

Rhianne tried to smooth things over, but Ivor only glanced at me with dissatisfaction.

"Rhianne, you're too kind. That's why this woman keeps bullying you over and over again. Look at your hand! It's so red. Come on, let's get some ointment on it."

Though Jeffrey didn't criticize me further, his expression made it clear he blamed me too.

"Clean up the kitchen."

Before he walked out the door, Ivor tossed me a glance.

This time, I had no expectations and, therefore, no disappointment. Still, the pain was unbearable. It felt like my knees were about to give out.

"Miss, do you need any help?"

The enormous kitchen was in a state of chaos. The passing household staff only whispered among themselves, unwilling to lend a hand. Only one young girl stood behind me, cautiously offering her support.

"It's okay. I'll manage."

I gritted my teeth, enduring the pain in my calf. The girl blinked apologetically and pointed at the blisters forming on my skin.

"I think you should do something about those burns, miss. Scars won't look good on a girl."

Her voice was soft, and her hands were quick. Within minutes, the kitchen was spotless.

"Thank you."

I hadn't realized until just now how much I was hurting. If it weren't for the girl, I might have collapsed unnoticed.

"You don't need to thank me, miss. Don't feel bad; I believe in you. You have such a kind heart, and that's why others bully you. Let me help you get some ointment."

For the first time since returning to this house, I felt a shred of kindness.

It was a strange sensation, like my years of effort had finally yielded a small reward.

Later that evening, I lay in bed researching after tending to my wounds. My thoughts were interrupted by laughter that came from outside the door.

They were about to head out. Following Rhianne's minor burn earlier that day, they had planned a trip abroad to cheer her up.

"Are we not inviting El?"

Before they left, I overheard Rhianne's concerned question.

Ivor, in his typical dismissive tone, paid her a few compliments and casually replied, "There's no need. She's old enough. Besides, she's traveled to so many places since she was a kid. It's not like she needs to fight you for one reward. Let's just go ourselves. She'd probably just cause you trouble if she did come."

His tone carried the same arrogant confidence it always had. Whenever I got bullied when I was younger, he would pull me close and tell others, "She's mine. No one gets to mess with her."

As the light from my laptop faded and reignited, the darkness hid my tears.

As it turned out, love could never disappear—it just found someone else to hold onto.