Shades of Black

Chapter 1

Indira

Sitting on the edge of my makeshift bed, made of palettes my mother found on the side of the road years ago, I changed the bandaids on knees. There were several shades of yellow, purple, and black, and the cuts were still scabbing– leaving traces of blood on the previous bandages I had placed in the trash.

I was used to nursing myself back to health at this point, and the wounds oddly never seemed to last longer than a couple days. However, I was mentally hurting more than ever rather than physically. My mothers strikes to my body and hurtful words haven't stopped damaging me ever since I was old enough to speak.

Never did I understand why she hated me so much. I suppose it's because I resembled my father, or at least that's what I've been told. He passed before I was born, but his death has never eased off my mothers mind– not even after 15 years. She finds ways to harm me every day, whether it be a simple slap across the face or dragging me by the hair across the floorboards.

She's an evil wench that goes by the name Vivienne Parks. Father and her were never able to marry, and she found out she was pregnant with me soon after he died at the young age of 18. I never knew my father, but I'm not sure if I would have wanted to if he would have turned out to be anything like my mother. Though I sometimes ponder about what she was like before his death. Whatever they had must've had to have been amazing to leave her like this.

After placing my wrappers in the trash and smoothing out the bandages, I rummaged through my dresser for the longest skirt I owned. I didn't want her to see what she had done to me, it would only make her satisfied with her actions and mock my appearance even more than normal.

I slid on a black, cotton skirt that reached two inches below my knees, hopefully modest enough for dinner tonight as well.

Looking at the clock on my bedside table, it read "5:58 pm".

Frightened, I tucked in my silk blouse and ran down the stairs into our dining room. If I were to be even a second late for dinner, mother would be sure to find a new way to punish me.

I gulped as I realized that the table was already set up, and my jaw became tense when I noticed it was only for one. Then, mother rounded the corner looking oddly calm.

"Mother-," I choked out, "I'm sorry I wasn't down soon enough, I was freshening up in the bathroom." I looked down at my feet, not daring to look her in the eyes.

She sighed, "Why that's quite fine, dear. While it seemed you forgot the rules, I suppose I forgot to only make enough stew for one person." A disgusting smirk formed across her lips.

"What- what am I going to eat?" I regretted my words as soon as they left my pale, pink lips. A sharp pain whipped across my cheek, leaving a throbbing sensation behind.

"You don't deserve to eat after your behavior. Go back to your room and don't come up until sunrise. Maybe then, you'll learn your lesson and be prompt for breakfast," She yelled through her teeth.

Of course this is nothing less than expected, but that didn't mean it never left me angry. Usually I would oblige to her orders, but a wave of confidence ran through me. My feet began to walk past her spot at the table and swiftly make their way into the kitchen. However, before I could reach the doorway, a hand tugged on my shirt harshly making me fly back and hit my head off the chandelier placed above the dining table.