CHAPTER 3

LISA`S POV

The Middleton family is the epitome of evil.

When you hear evil the first thing on your mind should be the Middleton family. They are the people who would be content to forcefully take away the small possession you have and make it their own with no remorse whatsoever. Even if they have to take away your own life, they would be willing to do it without a bat of an eye. They have never cared about other people`s welfare. Power and wealth to them is their right and they are the only people that deserve it.

And that was with no exception to us.

They took what was ours—my mom`s custom rings. Her sweat and blood. Her life.

I wipe the snot running down my nose and inhale gulps of air. Looking in the mirror I am met with red-shot eyes. Memories of the past continue to seep through my mind. The past brings a surge of pain in my already wounded and battered heart.

8 YEARS AGO

I watch as the sleek Mercedes Benz rolls into our compound.

Mother is sitting in her chair crafting a ring. She is humming to a tune I'm not quite familiar with, the sound of her machine coming into tune with her hums. Today is one of those days I did not go to school because I was sent away because of a pile of unpaid tuition fees. Watching my mother do her work is something I enjoy doing and once in a while, I help her with carrying some of the heavy metals that she uses.

“Mrs. Middleton is here, oh God.” She says her voice tense. “Good gracious… ouch.”

I look over behind me from the window where I am standing. Mother clutches her right thumb delicately, wincing as blood oozes from it. She hurriedly fumbles with a rug cloth which she tears a thin strand of the rug and ties on her bleeding finger.

I walk over and unplug the machine, blood stains present on the blade.

“What is wrong, mother?” I ask and she turns to face me, her eyes filled with horror. “It`s just Rachel.”

“Don`t you dare call her by her first name again.” She says, smoothening her dress.

“But you always call her Rachel…”

“Lisa.” She sighs walking back and forth in the small space of her workshop, casually taking glances through the window at Rachel who is parking her car. “You know what, just go to your room and let me talk to Mrs. Middleton. Okay?”

“But why?”

“Please just…”

“Okay.” I open the door of the workshop and walk out, inhaling the fresh breeze from the morning wind. I stroll into the house to my room and fall on my bed. The past few days have been so hard for us, that at night I fail to even get an hour of sleep. Sleeping on an empty stomach is never for the weak. Well, we did go to Rachel`s place yesterday and she gave us some leftovers but they were not enough for us. That is after Milly and I spent twelve hours cleaning and re-cleaning her mansion. Milly however for the most part would hide in a corner and read some of the story books she stole from Rachel`s son's bedroom. For the most part, I was the one cleaning and when Rachel would pass around she would haul insults at us on how we are poor because we are lazy beggars.

Well, I never cared about her piercing tongue because I had already stolen her weekly magazine and hidden it in the brown leather bag that I always have with me. Yesterday I also took her VOGUE magazine that had just been delivered in her mail earlier during the day. That is my reward for tolerating her regular downgrading insults. And I have no remorse.

Wait…

She is probably coming to confront my mother about us stealing books and magazines from her house. Mother always enjoys reading the books, and after reading she would ask us to return them to Rachel`s house but we never did that. Never. Is that the reason why my mother was tensed when she saw her packing her car today in our front yard?

We are caught. If she knows that we have been stealing from her she will never allow us back in her house. And that means—sleeping on empty stomachs again.

No. No.

I hurriedly get off the bed and walk to the hallway leading up to the living room where I stand and listen to their muffled conversations. I cannot catch a word of what they are saying. I peep through the ajar door of the living room.

Mother is sitting on one of the couches in the living room, facing down on the floor, her face with a look I cannot quite put a hand on. Rachel is pacing the space in front of my mother, her mouth running at a faster pace.

She is fuming. Breathing fire.

This is not a good sign.

Before I can make out what is happening, I watch as my mother follows Rachel who is walking toward the door. Rachel continues strutting out of the door and through the glass doors I can see her heading to the workshop. Mother is following her.

I quickly rush to the living room and stand by the window that faces the workshop. My heart is beating hard in my chest. Being on bad terms with Rachel means that our lives are going to be in more shambles than we already are in. Rachel is the reason why we already are alive. She is the one who has been paying Milly`s high school fees for two years right now.

We cannot afford to be on bad terms with her. We will die without her help.

I feel my eyes sting but I am determined to tightly hold on to the last ounce of hope I have. I cannot afford to give up right now. Not now, when my mother is almost making a breakthrough in her ring-making business. Not when she is about to sign a contract with a fashion brand to supply the custom handmade rings that she makes. This is our only hope. Our only light at the end of the tunnel.

They stay in the workshop for a few minutes then I see them come out. Rachel is talking on the phone to someone. And mother…

Oh God.

She is sobbing. Kneeling in front of Rachel and talking to her. Rachel shrugs and walks off to her car.

That evening a pick-up truck was loaded with my mother`s rings and all her ring-making machines. Everything. Everything we ever had. My mother`s life, joy, and hope were all loaded on that truck.

 My mother was never the same.

I apply lip gloss on my lips, attempting to smile for the mirror, lest I scare the people outside of the bathroom. My eyes are still red but I can deal with that. A group of girls swarm inside the bathroom, shouting and talking loudly. And that is my cue to get out of the confined walls of this smelly bathroom and face the world. Head high. Like the big girl that I am.

Milly is sat at the bench in front of the bathroom and without saying anything we take the stairs to the floor where my father has been admitted.

In the hallway to my father`s ward, Rachel is standing at his door, scrolling on her phone. Before I can grab Milly and divert to a nearby cleaning supply room, she lifts her head and sees us. Confused about what to do we remain standing.

She walks toward us, eying us piercingly, wrinkles present on her eye corners.

“If I ever catch you talking to any lawyer or think of suing me then you better think again.” She narrows her eyes, particularly on me, her voice low. “Do not dare try it if you want to live.”

We turn and see her strut away.